Roots rock (which is as good a label as any for this album) attracts musicians who like to put a line around their creativity. On Greenling Tenements are inventive, but within quite clearly defined boundaries. So while they are willing, as on the long tail of ‘Greenling’, the final track, to explore the textures of electronic manipulation, when there’s a ‘band plus singing’ texture it’s always of a relatively conventional type.

This isn’t to say that this is derivative, or unadventurous music. All music needs some point of reference, and many artists find it possible to express their unique creative vision through various well established stylistic languages: roots rock is a dialect in which formal conservatism predominates, but with plenty of room for lyrical and textural invention. There are other genres in which the positions are reversed: in jazz, texture is often a given, but there is an expectation of melodic novelty; while it is possible to innovate on all fronts simultaneously, it can leave the listener floundering. Greenling is informed by a generosity of spirit that seeks to make emotional connections rather than issue intellectual challenges, and so it gives us a sturdy, recognisable framework to hang onto. And with that context established, within those walls, they let rip creatively.

There’s not a track on this album that sounds as though Tenements just turned on their amps and played the song. Every tune is crafted, full of interesting touches, like the cut-off distorted acoustic guitar stabs at the start of ‘Hard Heartbeat’, the throaty trombone in ‘Biloxi 1988’, and the minimal strumming with lo-fi ambience in ‘Sisters Prayer’.

The lyrics on Greenling are often quite schematic, or riff-like: ‘Sisters Prayer’ and ‘Hard Heartbeat’ are the most extreme examples, but even the longest lyrics eschew the repeated chorus and several verses format common in music of this general type. Stories are not told and situations are not described; but images are juxtaposed with thoughts, and the poetry of the city is expounded, often with half-rhymes and assonances that would be invisible on the page. It’s oblique, and its literal denotation is often obscure, but these songs are collisions of sound and word that convey a sense of warmth. There is often sadness, even tragedy, but there’s a powerful sense of engagement and empathy that makes even those moments into positive ones.

This is an album of great sincerity and feeling, but it goes about its business without any chest-beating or screaming: Tenements are far too articulate to need to do any of that. With their unassuming yet sophisticated musicality, their sonic flexibility, and the pronounced self-awareness of their material, they map a landscape that it would be to anyone’s benefit to explore.