plantoid’s second record FLARE begins by sounding like the whole record might spiral into chaos, with Parasite opening in a barrage of thrashing drums and frenetic guitar work. And then, just as quickly the track pulls the rug out by softening and revealing something far more delicate.

Rooted somewhere between progressive metal and jazz fusion, strange and unstable time signatures immediately disorient in a dazzling and overwhelming technical display that suggests you’re about to be dragged through a relentlessly complex, head-spinning experience, but what reveals itself are deep, affecting, and carefully constructed songs that happen to exist within a framework of shifting rhythms and unconventional chord progressions. The band consistently take left turns, but every change in direction is driven by emotion rather than technical indulgence.

Chloe Spence’s vocal performance acts as the album’s emotional anchor, with a clear resemblance to Kate Bush in the airy, high-register delivery and a softness that floats above the intricate instrumentation, but when she chooses to push and belt it lands with real force, giving the songs a dynamic range that mirrors the band’s own shifts between intensity and calm. The drums twitch and pivot in ways that rarely align with expectation as basslines roam freely and guitars oscillate between shimmering, treble-heavy prettiness and bursts of aggressive thrashing. Dozer is deceptively catchy despite its rhythmic complexity, with a groove that feels intuitive even if it’s anything but straightforward. Elsewhere The Weaver leans into sparseness, proving that the band’s strength lies just as much in what they hold back as what they unleash.

On paper this is music that should be difficult with odd time signatures, extended track lengths, and multiple sections within each piece, but it’s accessible rather than alienating, with grounded songwriting. Good For You is built on deliberately disorientating repetitions, but draws you in with a warmth and inviting friendliness to its melodies and vocal performance that counterbalances the technicality. By the time the album reaches its closing stretch, it’s clear that the initial sense of chaos was something of a misdirection.

Slow Moving introduces a deep and contemplative mood, while Daisy Chains brings everything together in a cinematic finale with layers building gradually. Instruments swell and intensify until the song reaches a point that recalls the emotional crescendo of Mogwai or Explosions In The Sky in a stunning closing statement. Rather than revelling in being obscure, FLARE uses its technical ability to deepen the impact, creating something that’s intricate and unpredictable, but also warm, beautiful, and affecting.

This is musician’s music that invites you to marvel at the level of skill on display and leaves you awestruck, but crucially never disappears into technical indulgence because the songs come first with an indie heart beating at the centre. High-level musicianship paired with genuine feeling that’s warm and thoughtful.