Where Unmap is concerned with abstract possibilities, Repave demonstrates Volcano Choir as a fully formed band driven by thrilling experimental vigor but with tighter, more traditionally structured songs.

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In the past, Volcano Choir may have been an expectations-minimizing, second-stage Justin Vernon act; with Repave, it comes tantalizingly close to becoming the main event.

A daring, self-assured statement by a band who have finally figured out just what a special thing they have created with Volcano Choir, but still aren’t aware of where it’s going to take them next.

Taken as a start-to-finish listening experience, there’s a sort of all-purpose affability to Repave that makes even the more unintelligible moments sound like high-concept pop music.

With Unmap, Volcano Choir clearly had the raw materials it needed to create something stunning—but those materials were left unarranged, scattered, and disparate. Repave is built from the same basic building blocks, but they've been die-cast into a definite mold—and the results are remarkable.

By melding the invaluable element that is Justin Vernon with a microphone to a chunk of surprisingly boisterous song ideas (twice as focused as those from their 2009 debut Unmap and a step more sonically advanced) Volcano Choir, too, find their voice on Repave.

While it deviates rather sharply from Unmap, there are occasional moments that recall the band in its infancy but it is clear that the four years since the debut arrived have resulted in the band’s evolution – and they are all the better for it.

If you're looking for an album to soundtrack you through times of change and uncertainty, yes, Repave is it.

The sextet have created a grandiose record with arena-rock ambitions and ostentatious beauty that is mostly inscrutable on a lyrical level.

While this certainly isn’t the second album that I expected Volcano Choir to create, it’s a strong showing from a group of talented musicians, and for the moment, I’m more than satisfied with enjoying it on those simple terms alone.

There’s a slippery nature to these ghostly tracks of sadness and loss and that makes them feel hard to get into the middle of, they never envelop, rather flicker at the sides.

Apart from the weirdly out-of-place vocoder moment on ‘Comrade’, it’s a layered, lush and lovely eight-track affair.

Repave is anything but showy. It's a pretty type of album that washes over you, made up of slow burners that melt like hot wax.

Despite intriguing intricacies, it's ultimately impossible to see Repave as anything other than a missed opportunity. It feels too safe, too concerned with sounding like a 'proper' band to really fulfil the promise of its members’ day jobs.