Tentatively calling out behind Shoegazes' synesthetic fuzz is No Joy, a band who - since their immersive 2010 debut Ghost Blonde - have been another name added to the continuous flow of so-called neo-Shoegaze bands by teetering with the swirling, soporific aesthetic of its past. But while No Joy are obviously indebted to bands like Sonic Youth and The Cocteau Twins with a debut that was all about intense layers of feedback and ethereal soundscapes hallmarked by their antecedents, they incorporated many of those elements and took them somewhere new. Like their forebears, it's instrumentally domineering; that relentless feedback – the use of guitars to create an ephemeral wall of sound – but it counteracts the saccharine vocals and melodious pop hooks, recalling something that often sounds more mid 80s C86 than My Bloody Valentine circa 1991.

Still, no matter how recycled this genre is, No Joy do what they do and they do it well. For a scene that petered out as quickly as it arrived, it's pretty difficult to keep up momentum let alone add a whole new dimension to that dense, senses-pummelling noise that only a handful of bands have managed to capture with varying success.

Wait To Pleasure is a tenuous progression from the hazy snapshot of Shoegazes' epoch that we got with Ghost Blonde. Nothing is explicitly new here, except they've refined their craft and created something a little more hospitable and clean. The tranquilly symphonic 'Lunar Phobia' is probably a foremost example of No Joy subtly departing from their previous sonic ventures. While Wait To Pleasure's predecessor was notable for its luxurious experiments, 'Lunar Phobia' keeps things relatively elemental and calm with more emphasis on reverb and delay without the excessive distortion. They've also explored more electronic techniques with layers of keyboards and drum programming coalescing with their habitually hazy guitars. Yet it's not a huge departure from their debut: those heavy electronic beats simply supplement No Joy's usual minimal percussion and Laura and Jasmine's doleful, half-whispering vocals still predominantly sail beneath celestial, instrumental currents.

Elsewhere No Joy's imperviously heavy and sweetly melodic heart still beats beneath the rich and warm exterior. 'E', for example, is a squalling profusion of feedback and droning guitar and bass that cascades toward a distorted wall of noise, eventually crashing in on itself and into 'Hare Tarot Lies' which follows suit but keeps things even more placid with its sleepy, mesmeric drone. Where Wait To Pleasure does lets itself down, however, is within the moments where it tries to be something it's not: 'Blue Neck Riviera' is perplexingly mismatched, with its peculiar and monotonous programmed hip-hop beat accompanied by some semi-rapped verses.

While not exactly innovative, No Joy at least affirm that they aren't merely copyists of a bygone era, though instead they pick apart the best of it and interpret it on their own terms. Tried and tested it may be, but Wait To Pleasure is both an authentic and singular take on a sound that remains gloriously disorientating no matter what era its heard in.