"I want to make it impossible to get stuck in a rut, wherein any one sound or image is expected by anyone from Moonface" was the eulogy, as a bolder was rolled in front of a tomb that read 'Wolf Parade, Sunset Rubdown, Grecian Heroes within Indie Culture: 2003-2011'. Without a night passing, Spencer Krug resurrected as Moonface, and set out on a journey of self-exploration. His pilgrimage has seen him scale the world over a few times - whether it is with Mike Bigelow, Siinai or alone - buried in Canada, risen in Helsinki, exchange Daft Punk-inspired organ for a microphone alone and write his finest lyrics with the help of a dewy-eyed frog. Moonface's only constant is the gospel of reformation. The latest incarnation breathes Julia With Blue Jeans On.

With each record that his prolific nature produces, Krug is venturing further into himself, pouring every ounce of what he learns into each nuance of his work. Whether it's the personal love letters he shares and the details of his Heartbreaking Bravery, his relationship with the stars, or his lonely nights on the balcony - we're regularly shown how time is morphing and caressing his being. Moonface depicts how Krug is on a similar trajectory to somebody like John Cale; he's journeyed so deep into his consciousness with his art that it has become him.

In a post-modernist fashion, he regurgitates his own references as if they're an understood part of the world. Whether it's the reprised questions between the psychologically-stained 'Barbarian' duo, or the cadences of Heartbreaking Bravery's "You are the kill" being echoed in its cousin 'Barbarian II' with "I am the lamb," Krug regularly threads motifs from years past (or later on the record) into songs like every piece he's ever written is part of one tapestry.

'Love The House You're In' may be the most pertinent and beautiful piece that Krug has ever conceived, and captures an epiphany.

Years ago, Krug sang about believing in "growing old with grace," and that's what has happened; he's at peace with himself. If Heartbreaking Bravery was a self-critical, 'coming of age' record, then this is an 'of age' record. 'Love The House You're In' surmises this perfectly. The opening line "I regretfully withdraw my offer to try to improve myself, I sincerely believe the results would be a disaster," and the refrain "you've got to love, the house you're in"; the songs themselves aren't comprised by knee-jerk emotional reactions like often in the past - 'Headed For The Door', 'Return To The Violence of the Ocean Floor'- but instead have a transcendental quality to them - 'November 2011', 'Everyone Is Noah, Everyone Is The Ark'. He acknowledges his flaws and his forlorn experiences of the "younger man's game", but accepts that they're part of him.

You'd expect that with such fundamental construction, the often misleading, free-form nature of Krug's songwriting would be easier to digest on this album. However, through a general lack of emphasis, it's just as perplexing and entrancing. Listening to his fingers run like Lubomyr Melnyk on the climactic 'Your Chariot Awaits', then juxtaposing it with the non-committal, right hand suggestions of tonality in 'First Violin' depicts the flourishing ambience captured on these live performances. This crude 'piano and vocal' guise throughout the album reflects both Krug's realised ambitions in himself and seeing the beauty in simplicity. In the title track, 'Julia With Blue Jeans On', he fascinatingly belittles the grandiose currents of spirituality that run through the centre of the record by suggesting that falling in love with the minimal nature of Julia has obliterated anything he's ever written down, and that singing her name serves more purpose than singing the name he's mentioned so frequently throughout the album: God.

Reinvention is an unnatural, exhausting endeavour - however, with this incarnation of Moonface, Krug has found solace in the simple beauty of Julia With Blue Jeans On. The record's defining sentiment is: 'you've got to love the house you're in', something which is just about the anti-thesis of Moonface's mantra of incessant development. Though this conflict is apparent, Krug's art is his master, it controls his journey and, after completing this latest oeuvre, there are probably no more revelations to be had at the piano plinth. We'll have to wait for the next manifestation of Moonface.