Intricate orchestral arrangements. Winsome strings sequences. Delicate piano codas. Subtle chord changes. Chronicles of modern fairytales. And, er.. tales of follicly and phallically-challenged realtors. Welcome, friends, to the beautifully skewed world of Final Fantasy, aka Owen Pallett; violinist, string virtuoso and bona fide genius. He Poos Clouds, despite its quasi-ribald title, is Pallett's second album since he relinquished his string-arranging duties for the likes of fellow Canadians Arcade Fire and Hidden Cameras; and it's an altogether more accomplished and cohesive affair than last year's enjoyable, but disjointed debut Has A Good Home. This time, however, he's struck gold with ten enchanting violin-led tracks, some so eerie that they could soundtrack spooky 1920 surrealist film The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari; some so twee that they wouldn't be out of place on a Belle and Sebastian album, but all ten lovingly, meticulously crafted. Pallett's misanthropic choirboy vocals provide a discordant backdrop for his wry, world-weary lyrics; on the operatic Do You Love? he sings 'There are things I cannot do/I cannot turn a skinny little shit/Into a winsome Brit who spent his youth in honest pleasure'; the epic title track sees him explore love's tendency to become almost video-game surreal: 'All the boys I've ever loved have been digital..' and the blithe, string-drenched This Lamb Sells Condos tackles real-life Torontonian property developer Brad J. Lamb's rapacity for fortune. Where his true precocity lies, however, is in the incredibly engaging compositions that distinguish each track from its predecessor. From the tense, dreamlike reverie of If I Were A Carp, to the tribal a' cappella/primly classical epic Song Song Song to the dramatic ferociousness of Many Lives -> 49MP, there is simply not a dud track to be found here. It's by no means the perfect album; Pallett's voice, while charming, can sometimes become lost in the oft-elaborate instrumentation; but it's certainly the most unique you'll hear this year, and probably one of the best, too. Forget clouds; this man must poo gold.