Pennsylvania's Black Moth Super Rainbow are certainly an enigmatic collective. Joining main songwriter Tobacco are the following: The Seven Fields of Aphelion, Power Pill Fist, D.Kyler and Father Hummingbird. They'll fuck you up; your mum and dad.

The desire for anonymity and a hint of mystery courses through 'Eating Us'; ironically their most hi fi and ambitious release yet. Lyrical themes are obscure, and the constantly vocodered vocals give an other worldly feel to proceedings. Opening track and single, 'Born on a day the sun didn't rise' sounds no less like Money Mark producing Air's 'Sexy Boy'. If I am going to embrace my descent into journalistic stereotype wholeheartedly, I believe I should add a drug to the comparison too. Let's say one of those toads that you lick.

Of course it's lazy to make the Air reference, but it's not merely the vocals (after all, vocoders existed before Moon Safari). The epic string arrangements and warm basslines of 'Gold Splatter' certainly have a distinctly French feel. What distinguishes Black Moth Super Rainbow from simple copyists is the internal battle that Tobacco constantly seems to be waging between his psychedelic roots and his inner b boy (Tobacco has released solo albums featuring indie MCs of the calibre of Aesop Rock). The antique synth sounds prevalent throughout are constantly saved from nostalgia by rumbling, funky bass flourishes ('Tooth Decay') and chopped up, heavy beats. It's a perfect blend; Dave Friddman of MGMT and Flaming Lips fame juggling the two sounds so that one never overpowers the other, allowing the blissful melodies resplendent in moments like the acoustic guitar and strings of the instrumental 'Smile the Day After Today' to take centre stage.

Lyrically, Tobacco certainly lets his psychedelic side win out: "You and me, we're gonna melt away, like apples in the ground", he chants on the stuttery space funk of 'The Sticky'. It rarely says more than pretty, naturalistic metaphors, but the music is so awash with colour that the imagery serves a purpose.

Though 'Eating Us' suffers somewhat by its close due to the sheer repetitiveness of the vocal effects (we would like to hear more of Tobacco the man), the subtle but constant variations in sound (you're getting bored? Here, have a fucking banjo on 'American Face Dust') mean that they just about get away with it. This time. It's difficult to criticise a band so reliant on their ambiguity, but I'm going to anyway. Take the beats, technicolour orchestration and melodies, replace some (not all) of the obscurity with honesty and stripped vocals, and you'd have a rather marvellous album instead of a merely bloody good one.