I'm just going to say it. A lot of this record sounds like Radiohead. I was listening to it earlier when my housemate asked, “Is that Thom Yorke?” If you've ever listened to post-Amnesiac Radiohead, it's unlikely you'll miss the likeness. More 'Sit Down. Stand Up.' than 'Myxomatosis'.

Seagull's debut record Goodbye Weather sometimes conjured sombre UK outfit Hood, its doubled vocals delivered with a languid, poignant pace alongside processed acoustic guitars. I suppose there's something quite impressive in the fact that on Council Tree, singer and chief Seagull songwriter Chris Bolton could be so easily mistaken for Generation X-Y's most revered voice. Without wishing to dwell on the comparison, it's one based on a handful of similar traits: the somewhat fragile voice, breaking at the edges a little. Lyrically: a blurred, highly allusive morass of bittersweet nothings, towing quietly epic themes of love and cosmic destitution.

Of course, Chris Bolton isn't quite Thom Yorke – his voice less elastic, commanding – and just occasionally, there's the far less fortunate invocation of Bernard Fanning. And while talented producer Nick Huggins would never presume to play longtime Radiohead producer Nigel Godrich, Council Tree sees the band entering more inventive, abstract territory. This is never truer than on the mashed mess of 'Bell', a five-minute sprawl of balmy, cassette-coloured atmospheric fuzz, out of which a song briefly threatens to emerge. It's a seeming nod to the 4-tracked burn of artists like Microphones or Dave Fischoff, or to the contemporary indie tape scene. Whichever, it's possessed of the comforting thickness of that brand of pure sound.

Considering the complement of Seagull's members – Bolton, brother Ed, Albert's Basement impresario Michael Zulicki and Kid Sam/Otouto drummer Kishore Ryan – it’s perhaps Ryan whose contributions are most keenly felt. Songs like 'Hum Hum' and 'New Arrival' fall into place amid his unorthodox beats, but it's his simpler work that ultimately wins out, such as in the beautifully spacious shuffle of 'Tea' or the clever restraint of 'Grey Cat'.

In the stop/start, late ’90s math-isms of 'Water', it's Bolton's fluid, clean guitar lines that take the stage. Behind the computer, Huggins does what he does best, giving the instruments a light, humble and spacious sound that works a broad stereo field. In fact, there's a politeness to Council Tree that would be at home on a Huggins solo record, offset only by the sometimes raggedy guitars that spill groaning, distorted pulls or roughly tremolo-picked lines across some songs, giving them a more ratty, ecstatic flavour.

There's plenty to this album, and at 41 minutes, it feels longer than it is. But in a good way. Though some songs have more immediate appeal than others, there's little here to discourage the casual listener. Meanwhile, the artful realisations of Bolton's songs are moody and inviting. Perhaps slightly too lateral to top the playlists of triple j (prove me wrong, please), Council Tree's imaginative arrangements will likely secure its place as one of 2010's cult favourites.

by Babette Gladney