Elephant Shoe

Arab Strap sexual politics is politics without spin doctors. No airbrush gets applied to Aidan Moffat's luridly graphic documentary on the decline and decay of yet another failed, frustrated relationship. As on the admirable but hardly adorable debut Philophobia, the feelings on show here are mostly ugly and small - petulance and spite figure prominently - and Moffat's commentary on the nasty things people do to one another in the name of love is as nigh-on comically weary as you would expect.

Though the preoccupations remain the same, this is not, quite, Philophobia part II. A few things have changed - happily, we're spared anything like Philophobia's front sleeve nude portrait of Moffat, so you can bring the record home on the bus without risking arrest, or nausea. And there's a flicker of life - even affection - on ,say, 'Autumnal', 'Leave The Day Free' and 'Tanned' that makes Elephant Shoe a record you can warm to rather than stand back and be a little scared by.

Your take on 'Autumnal' probably decides your take on the whole LP. Moffat, in the company of his lover, muses over the years to come and their move to grow old together in the country - "It's painting a kitchen that's keeping me going/And we've already named the seeds I'll be sowing/And when they've grown up/(That's hoping that I don't shoot blanks)/Could we move right up north, find a house near the shores and the banks?/With a big fuck-off telly, a brand new stereo system."

What's intriguing about 'Autumnal' is its ambivalence: Moffat recites these scenes with the same borderline malevolent tone as ever, so you're left wondering whether this is yet more bitter irony and is the song actually about the bankruptcy of pastoral and reproductive bliss. I choose for it not to be.

Elephant Shoe will still clear the room at any remotely fun party in the world, ever. There is, though, a colour in the music and a novel, winning semblance of hope. This is a difficult but very human and rewarding record. Just listen alone.