Much of The Possum... feels like an echo of earlier, better work.

As a whole the experience lacks the nuance and multiple textures required to make such guitar-centric endeavours a real delight.

A lingering suspicion remains that there’s little that’s new or groundbreaking to the bouncy vigour encountered on tracks such as Severed Estates or A Change in Course; even the blissed-out motorcade of highlight Fugue States fails to have all its sirens sounding.

Aimless and fussy, Heartworms sounds like the kind of album a person with slightly too much money, their own studio and a massive ego would make. Crushingly disappointing, this is, alas, no return to form.

d. If you’ve followed either Moore or Falkner, it’s certainly a curio. Everyone else--life is way too short.

Dead Magic, though, is utterly derivative of the very few albums in this genre ever to succeed, and lacks all of their spark and life. Above all else it is unbearably, irredeemably boring.

With Red Pill Blues Levine and co have managed to produce an album that is uninteresting and unexciting; at best this is background music, to be listened to on very, very low volume, or even better, not at all.