Album of the week: Green Language by Rustie

Green Language
Rustie
Warp

But soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It's Rustie, whose invigorating, brilliantly alive and sometime revelatory song Raptor broke windows and hearts upon its release in June. Raptor sounds like a frozen rainbow exploding. Or the orgasmic unfurling of a zipper. Or the robotisation of frogs at dusk.

The discrete building blocks of Rustie's music are all prosaic - marimba, sirens, electric guitar, ratatats, snares, and computerised bleeping - but he uses this common arsenal to such sublime effect that the sounds are born anew.

The cover of his sophomore LP, Green Language (a medieval term for birdsong), features two entwined flamingos: a Janus-faced bird, both goofy and precise, fabulous and absurd.

It's not a bad metaphor for Rustie. The Glasgow native blends the wonderfully impassioned with the intensely exact. He knows exactly when to hold back, allowing each bleep and drop to heighten suspense, and when to loosen, releasing a torrent of emotion.

Green Language is addled with cameos, from the likes of Danny Brown ( Attak), which only seem to muck up Rustie's flow and drag him down.