A considerable advance on their patchy self-titled debut, Cousteau's second album sees them take a giant leap to the forefront of the orchestral pop scene recently vacated by Tindersticks and the Divine Comedy. Rarely seen in anything other than their crumpled suits, this London five-piece are squarely in the tradition of intellectual crooners Scott Walker and Jacques Brel and while Cork-born singer Liam McKahey might not scale the heights of these two musical giants, his rich, distinctive baritone still does a fine job of conveying the stately gloom behind Cousteau's epic, magisterial ballads. Suave, classy and deliciously melancholic, Sirena may veer dangerously close to cabaret territory at times, but ultimately it retains just enough edginess to keep it on the right side of kitsch. If this doesn't bring them commercial success, then it's hard to see what will.