Moses Sumney is a beautiful glitch in the system. Running with an acrobat’s dexterity, a philosopher's mindset, and a voice like no other soul. Dude has made plenty of heads swivel during his rise with an enviable affiliate list (Solange, James Blake, Sufjan Stevens, to casually name-drop on his behalf), and has been gearing up to enter the cusp of his come-up. Now, double-cheeked up for his double album (word to the cover art), he has brought us a reaffirmation of his unique prowess.

Like any new male R&B crooner since 2012, Sumney has been aggravatingly subject to comparison to Frank Ocean countless times. Truth is, he shares more in common with art-pop, relishing in presenting his work in very ornate ways for his inimitable voice to flourish. With the ability to reach lofty frequencies that could make the eyes squint in astoundment, experiencing this butterfly fragility is best suited to a full-length project, which the world first got to see in 2017. Aromanticism consolidated his many facets into something cohesive and spectacular, but at times suffered from an intangible quality radiating off its songs, that is was so delicate and weightless, it difficult to grab onto. græ does a splendid job of fixing this problem.

Disobedient to its title, Moses’ new material is so much more colourful than that before it. A certain feeling of expanse sweeps across every track, and its grandiosity can even be savoured in the most low-key cuts. Over 40 of the most recognisable sound-makers in music play a part, from Thundercat to Jill Scott, Oneohtrix Point Never to James Blake. Yet they make barely a whisper, as Sumney confidently uses them as light seasoning to garnish his incorrigible vision. Perhaps the most distinguished presence is FKJ’s warm keys on ‘Colouour’, on top of its opening horns that are a dead ringer for Bon Iver, but aside from this exception, Sumney’s songwriting rarely echoes his peers. He finds pockets in a song that few else could, and this can make for thrilling points of newfound feeling (‘Polly’) or would-be moments of directness that are turned on its head through performance alone (‘Colouour’, ‘Neither/Nor’). The linearity of these cuts means that once you’ve exited one place, it’s very unlikely for you to return to it, assuming you don’t cheat with a quick scroll back. When a hook returns, it is met with a different instrumental backing, such as on the final and largest climax of the album, ‘Bless Me’. As Sumney strains in his last goodbye, momentum stealthily gathers between the repeated chorus, as a thick ambience of guitar and plodding drums grows more powerful and ascends, before it is let go to send Sumney free-falling back to Earth. It makes one lyric more potent: “I grasp your coat, because maybe you’ll grant me wings if I cling”.

Stylistically, Sumney continues his mission to channel both R&B and folk into art-pop’s warped world. ‘In Bloom’ is one of the most lavish tracks here, with the gentle handling of baroque strings in the tone of prime neo-soul. All the while, splashes of folk moods and personalities are everywhere, like in the watery, limestone-tinted folk fantasia of ‘Neither/Nor’. These two sonic climates can co-exist on græ by way of careful sequencing, keeping the journey gripping by bouncing between something simple and something wildly unfamiliar. Exhibits include the pensive direction ‘Conveyor’ goes in, pulling from the sampling techniques from the art-pop world before him. Plus ‘Gagarin’, a trudging blues ballad named after the first cosmonaut to fly beyond our planet, manipulates Sumney’s vocals to give him space to piece together a thematically lonesome atmosphere. græ pulls from a vast amount of places, but its execution is focused enough to do a bang-up job.

Moses has always been an artist that uses his songwriting as a form of therapeutic catharsis. On his previous effort, he tended to hide deep introspection behind the alien qualities of his vocals, and once again a great bulk of the lyrics deliver a vulnerable self-analysis of character, though this time shrouded in clarity. First song proper, ‘Cut Me’, is a horn-backed salute to his unrelenting and even harmful determination to make art, plus the succeeding track is the first of many that touch on his struggle with unrequited love. Another example of this just so happens to be one of the best songs across the two parts. ‘Polly’ closes out disc one with a poetic standout, a sombre realisation that he is stretching himself, octopusing himself to breaking point, just to be noticed by his amore; “1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, am I just your Friday dick?”

Plainly, græ’s main subject is the man himself. Its central purpose is simply getting to know Moses, as intense as that may sometimes be. The lead single ‘Virile’ does carry a pretty awkward hook, but best shows the type of bold statements Sumney is making about himself here, much in the same vein as another art-pop record: Björk’s Post. The comparison runs further - songs like ‘Conveyor’ and ‘Colouour’ feature creative concepts in and of themselves that simultaneously flesh out the artist’s character. The former uses allegories of industrial labour and ant colonies to symbolise his natural subservience, while the latter beautifully injects colour palettes into an uplifting conversation. Both call to mind what ‘The Modern Things’ and ‘Headphones’ did back in the day on Björk’s intro-to-the-masses LP, and bringing such a classic album to mind is far from a bad thing.

There is something to be said of how the double album was released, splitting the record into two staggered release events months apart in a bid to stretch out the album’s relevance, which is a fine tactic in today’s streaming age. Regardless of the politics behind its output, the hard separation of these two parts is questionably lopsided, with one nearing 40 minutes and the other being an EP’s length. Moreover, one cannot function as a cohesive record without the other - ironic considering the line “I’ve never been a sucker for codependency” from ‘Keeps Me Alive’. Part one is a vibrant collection with a loose ending, however the second is a quieter, less sound-playful affair. Though a fine experience on its own, in the context of the dynamic main island, this icy little islet feels like a comedown with too many spare chunks.

Moses Sumney’s second album is a welcome release for those looking for their art-pop fix in 2020. A biophonous tapestry that comes hand-made with a bevvy of soul-quenching sights, but not without its creases. græ is a huge top-down improvement from the debut but - and this is said with a strong degree of optimism - he isn’t operating at maximum capacity yet.