The first thing to know about Margins is that its members have variously been in groups like The Nation Blue, Ricaine and Blacklevel Embassy. The second thing to know is that Margins, the band's debut album, bears almost no similarity to those acts at all.

Margins opens with the appropriately titled ‘Dust’, which introduces the album’s sepia-toned landscape of scorched deserts and deserted highways. ‘Shot’ traverses a similarly barren terrain; all spidery guitars and subtle percussion until, about halfway through, a bright Tortoise-esque bassline carries the track somewhere else entirely.

There’s more minimal beauty to be found on ‘Cowboys’, before the subtle instrumental interplay of ‘Break’ pulls the album towards one of its many peaks. Just as it feels as though the song is about to explode in a traditionally cathartic post-rock crescendo, the band pull back – way back – and lay the song quietly to rest. It’s a genius moment, and one that sums up what’s so great about Margins. This isn’t, by any means, another paint-by-numbers exercise in aping Mogwai’s shtick. Rather, Margins are all about emptiness and space. ‘Through Mountains’ is a perfect example of this. No drums, just a fragile drone and a series of lone, hollow guitar notes ringing out into oblivion.

The multifaceted ‘And Manowaltz’ shows that even at their most dynamic, Margins leave plenty of room for nuance. Like ‘Dust’, ‘Hauntingly’ lives up to its name with the spookiness carrying through to ‘Down Desolate’, before ‘While the Sea’ shifts the album’s elemental focus towards stormier climates. The brightest moment, however, is saved for last. Standing in sharp contrast to the rest of the album, ‘Closes In’ is a 94-second shuffle of chiming guitar and what sounds like egg shakers.

Succinctly put, this is a brilliant record. All the more so when you consider the volume and intensity that these guys are normally associated with. That they’ve stepped so far out of their comfort zone and still come up with something as effective as this is remarkable.

Five stars, Margaret.

by Adam D Mills