A substantial leap in Jacob's artistry; extraordinary multitudes of hurt and relief are journeyed in his writing, navigating the spaces between grief and elation, and the strange semblances between solitude and community.

Across its eleven tracks, his voice is a gossamer fabric delighting in the brightest language as he retraces every path walked in the harshest years of his life with a startling sincerity, looking each face of grief in the bloodshot eye. For the most part, he accepts it. Recorded with his live band over the course of two visits to Eastbourne's Echo Zoo Studios, a joy permeates each sonic corner of holy waters, the studio techniques more analogue and experimental than his previous work, but sounding fuller, richer, killing what ego was left in puma blue and paying their band-centric debts proudly.

Inspired still by luminaries from Jeff Buckley to Björk, more important to 'Holy Waters' was Portishead's inexplicable marriage of a live band and production, and the improvisational work of Can and Hendrix. This is an album that can be devoured late at night with headphones as much as it can be blasted on the open road.

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