In 2007 Alex Ebert started a band. They were called Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros. The name came from a character in a book Ebert had written after a stint in rehab. In the book the character was a messianic figure, and Ebert adopted this persona to help get his life back in track. Over the next two years he jammed with old friends and local LA musicians until he was happy with the line up. In 2009 Up from Below, the debut Edward Sharpe album was released mixing indie, folk, rock, psych and gospel to positive reviews. Fast forward seven years and Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros are gearing up foralbum number four, Person A.

Lead single ‘Hot Coals’ opens the album. I always get worried when the big song kicks everything off. It makes me think “It this as good as it gets?” Luckily Ebert and co have plenty up their collective sleeves. ‘Uncomfortable’ opens with a sample that sounds like Shakira’s ‘Hips Don’t Lie’ looping and looping on itself after a tape has chewed it up. The song that follows bear little resemblance to this introduction. But like its name, as it winds and skews along it does create a feeling of unease and anxiety. ‘Somewhere’ brings to mind the Beatles' ‘Here Comes the Sun’. While it never reaches the highs of the actual George Harrison song, it is a tender and joyous three minutes.

‘Lullaby’, one of the standout tracks, is a gloriously simple sounding song that, if played at the right time, could soothe anyone to sleep. Ebert’s vocals take on a Paul McCartney vibe, while never sounding forced or smug. It’s a masterclass in less is more. The previous tracks have been filled with layered guitars, drums, loops and all things fun and psych. ‘Lullaby’ strips all that back and gives us just the song and not much else. The album closes with ‘The Ballad of Yaya’.

Overall Person A is a rewarding listen that gives up with each listen. The music is exquisitely played, impeccably arranged and the lyrics are thoughtful and esoteric. The only problem is that it's a bit of a grower. This is down to the contrast of delightfully laid back jaunty music and Ebert’s soaring falsetto vocals. At first they feel like two positive magnets put next to each other, they try and push each other as far apart as possible. But after a few more listens you realise that in the space between each magnetics, something marvellous is going on. It’s like Marmite and marmalade. At first it tastes weird, but after the first mouthful you realise it all works together strangely well.