In 2009 The Holy Roman Army released ‘How The Light Gets In’, an acclaimed debut centered around the nucleus of siblings Laura and Chris Coffey. Since then they have worked on a number of mini projects and an EP of cover versions that showcased the band’s inimitable style, a playful release to sustain interest before their sophomore album ‘One Atom That Was You’. Recorded almost entirely at home, the band’s live players have a hand in proceedings, adding depth and life to the wealth of programmed sounds contained within.

Self-produced, the record has a big, expansive sound and a flowing ambience that nods to New Order. Sounds are pitted against each other throughout; organic and synthetic elements vie for victory over one another, one momentarily prevailing only to be beaten back and the battle recommencing. There is a touch of Shellac in the hushed vocal and contrasting harsher tones of Estevez, the briefest of intros which sets the thematic template for the duration.

Make no mistake; this is as dark an album as you’ll hear this year. Bleak lyrics detail hostile streets, broken relationships and desolation. Alongside this, there is the recurring motif of water, of drowning – falling into the abyss – offset by the sweet birdsong that surfaces from time to time. A ghostly vocal starts The Nightfallers with its enigmatic murky narrative giving way to a pulsating coda “We did not know where we’d land/ Closed our eyes while we were fallingCapio Nightingale is a crisis of faith and place ”The faces closing in/ The streets cling to my skin” with a dark “Save me” plea. Lyrically it’s a downer but musically it’s all fuzzy shoegaze warmth.

Here lies the glory of ‘One Atom That Was You’ – atop these desperate themes is a stirring backdrop of sound, a fascinating dichotomy between the warm, organic playing and the detached programming. “The future is an ocean/ It swallows me” sings Laura Coffey on Whale as the song pulls back, then surges forward again, all the while coated in that honey vocal. With the dramatic horn and string punctuations of Fluttering the album suddenly takes on another dimension. Backward vocals, frantic drum samples and rainfall effects are offset by the more restrained but well-judged horn interjections. Then the drums take the reins, enforcing a masterful pacing as “On that awful rain stained evening/ she crossed the city like a ghost” Godspeed You! Black Emperor is evoked, here and on an atmospheric Crawling Slow, a slow-moving juggernaut again propelled by the drums.

Upward Only with its tumbling drum and bass lead in slowly and almost imperceptibly builds until the lofty horns come in, elevating the song alongside the insistent, almost military drumbeat. Yet still the darkness prevails, no matter how uplifting the music. “My faith is failing me” sings Coffey on Capio Nightingale; “Now we’re slipping deeper, deeper down into the gloom” on The Nightfallers; “I didn’t call you yesterday/ I thought that I’d said what I had to say/ This feels like leaving” on the crackling, bittersweet Leaving.

It is finally with After The Planes that the light fights through – the chimes; the hazed vocal; the briefest suggestion of Dylan. The song has an undeniable nocturnal feel to it, dark and forlorn “The weight of all those words unspoken/ The heaviness of silence”. Undeniably heavy and oppressive in its lyricism, the overarching warmth of the music wins out, an album highlight in one full of combating emotions. The comedown has never been so alluring.