Delorean - Apar

‘Apar’, the fourth studio album from Spaniards Delorean is like being superimposed on to a rippling sunset. It’s an exotic, green-screen-daydream of a record that oozes vibrancy - unsurprising, considering that prismatically colourful synths, floaty hooks and intense happiness have been the dance quartet’s stock-in-trade since their Millennium-year inception.

Much like ‘Subiza’, which made the noise that Animal Collective might have had they been forcibly instructed to score a particularly hedonistic series of ITV2’s ‘Magaluf Weekender’, ‘Apar’ is brilliantly consistent. ‘Spirit’ moves intently before daybreak-evoking synths, swelling choir samples and impeccably-produced electronic drums combine to create a giddy, blissful fusion. Although, even that can’t compete with ‘Destitute Time”s unfettered buoyancy - a track so unrelentingly optimistic it could be enough to make sunburnt, bellicose Brits lower their fists long enough to hug a beach resort doorman.

Although, what made their last so exceptional was its kaleidoscopic curveballs, off-kilter dreaminess, and spliced vocals – since-stylistic traits that have now determined South London siblings Disclosure as the biggest floor-crammers on Planet Earth. It’s a possible reason for an ironing out of their once-overt balearic tendencies here, but consequently there’s nothing that quite has ‘Real Love’ or ‘Endless Sunset”s wondrous quality and lasso-like lure. Sure, ‘Dominion’ is powerful nonetheless and ‘Your Face’ is as shimmery as anything on the recent Pure Bathing Culture record, but ultimately they sacrifice some of their wonky intrigue by looking so abruptly skywards.

It’s a minor gripe, of course, that has little impact on the overall effect; this is music that desires to be clutched to youthful hearts and fill sun-bleached fields or golden coastlines; a hunger to delight that is so insatiable it’s rather tough to question.