Full Circle is the third full-length outing for Jon Chambers' Sunray project. Originally labelled as a Spaceman 3-aping act with more than a dash of influence from Lou Reed and the spaced-out early '90s Madchester schtick, in all it's pills'n'gloom glory, Sunray have morphed into something different. Well, those elements are still there, but they've made their sound more their own – rather than, as The Guardian's Paul Lester put, quite unflatteringly, "translucent flashbacks [that] are staggeringly unoriginal and retro-fetishistic to the point of karaoke." We get more space-rock and krautrock and a lean towards legends like Neu!, things get all 'post-psych' with world instruments and female vox from Sophie Ray ensure that Full Circle is a insistent lean away from their last record, released in 2007.

Opening with 11-minute opus 'Here To Go', the LP instantly take a direct route back in time to the '70s, bypassing the drear of Northern raves. A churning motorik chugs along behind astral, tie-dyed axe riffs; you can almost feel the LSD kicking in. It's transcendent – it's more akin to aural hypnotism and a sort of manic white noise that lures you into a deep, higher consciousness. One thing is blatant, and that is that it's very long. Too long. After three or four minutes, you're well acquainted with the scenario, and unlike minimalism, there aren't really subtle changes. One can only imagine the cramps these musicians had during recording.

The comparatively bitesize nibbles such as 'Golden Dawn' are where the record really shines. A '60s folk number, with tense acoustic guitars, maudlin strings and sparkling funk percussion, the track provides a delicious timbre change. 'Tears At Sunrise' finds a zone amongst Indian raga and psychedelia, it's a stripped back, toned down version of 'Here To Go', and proves ably that you can do lucid nostaligirock and keep it under the three minute mark. 'Baby Honey' has a grit and a bottled-up emotion that is missing on some of the efforts; when Chambers unveils his feelings, the music comes alive instead of meandering around in circles.

'Thru The Night' is the record's highlight. A sort of lo-fi surf-pop á la Best Coast, Sophie Ray's honeyed tones juxtapose gorgeously against Chambers' wearier croon. The twee chimes and fuzzy guitars are tranquil and airy; the whole song is superbly relaxing, but in a different way to the trance-inducing psych that dominates much of Full Circle. It's a vastly different tone to what we're used to from Sunray, but this is the sort of evolution that keeps bands thriving through the years. Lots of the record is advanced from the last time we heard them, but it's here that Sunray demonstrate the most distance between the past and the present.

Full Circle is a record focused on altering states of mind. It's meditative for the majority of the time, and when gung-ho balls are showcased, it's only fleeting. The pace is reluctant to deviate from a lollop, and while there's some nice shoegaze-y morsels peeping through the hippy-fug, they too are transient. It's almost like a soundtrack for some cathartic yoga session. That's not inherently bad, but when there are moments of such promise dotted throughout, you begin to wish they'd draw those out rather than the album's length.