Scotland’s answer to Walter Becker and Donald Fagen return for their fourth studio record in five years, offering ten more tracks of ribald slack that clock in at an hour. By now, the comparisons to any U.S. indie bands that preceded them seem silly — at no point did Aidan Moffat‘s tales of infidelity, fidelity, paranoia, and other degrees of romantic unease remotely resemble the bands that they were endlessly linked to. What becomes most evident now is that the comparisons were attributed to slow tempos and little else. It’s not that Arab Strap have developed considerably since their first single. Their prolific output since then has been more about refinements than finding their own ground, because they’ve always been comfortable with their position.