So maybe Nick Thorburn just writes a lot of music. Sure, I’ll bite. In five years he’s penned two seasons of soundtracks for NPR show Serial, put out two albums for his band Islands, joined the supergroup Mister Heavenly, and dropped two solo albums under his moniker Nick Diamonds. But quantity doesn’t always point to quality. And in the case of this dual album release, Thorburn splits his calculated kookiness into two halves: rote indie synthpop vying for your Noughties nostalgia on Taste, and straightforward, more-of-the-same twee rock that also vies for your Noughties nostalgia on Should I Remain Here At Sea?. And props to the man for consistency on each – but without the cross-pollination in between, the two albums form the rigid boundaries to one flat comfort zone.

You see, only cosmetics distinguishes Taste from Should I Remain…. Meaty synthesisers might carry 'No Milk, No Sugar' (Taste) like a luxurious conveyor belt, and an acoustic guitar might strum in the carefully authentic and sensitive way on 'Hawaii' (Should I Remain), but they’re both examples of the blue-eyed ballads that Thorburn strives so hard to preserve his naivety with. The former, for instance, suggests that music scenes die because the collective imagination stagnates – which might be true, but blissfully tunes out socio-economic factors, like the gradual kudzu creep of 'luxury' apartments choking out affordable housing. 'Cool Intentions' (Taste) bounces on precious piano chords and “Stop Me Now” (Should I Remain) leans back on a lack-a-daisy stroke, but both evoke the same of Montreal-ish approach to pop, unnaturally fluorescent and fizzy like Orange Crush. Even with the latter’s unexpected tap-dancing interlude, though, neither tune can reach the same paisley highs as of Montreal or other Elephant 6 merry-makers – something about Islands stays chained to the earth.

Still, if a casual fan had to choose one album or the other (and, given the price of physical merch these days, Islands do force the listener with a budget to choose), Should I Remain… is the no-brainer. The blokes won’t ever earn the same huddled teen adoration as The Shins ('Fear'), or concoct the same instant canned fist-bump that The Strokes could pull out of thin air ('Fiction'), but they stab admirably into yr short-term memory, anyway. The main problem – just like on previous album, Ski Mask - is Thorburn himself, who at any given time could be swapped out for one of a thousand other indie frontmen from the Noughties and not be missed. The abrupt squeal on schmaltzy blues of 'Christmas Tree' disrupts, at least.

Better some semblance of existential rebellion than the stilted alternative of Taste. Imagine if Thorburn skimmed a few Depeche Mode albums, bolted down the untainted pop joy from Phoenix, and transmitted a mash of the two through a Coldplay-sized Bluetooth speaker, and you’d have a bite of the sugar-free candy that Islands peddle. 'Snowflake' comes closest to the memorable parts of Should I Remain… for its Vampire Weekend-ish melody and puppy-eyed lyrics - “You’re a snowflake / the only one they make” But, as is often the case on Taste, the song smacks of such déja vu that it’s impossible to appreciate on its own terms.

Did we mention that Thorburn’s songwriting on Taste sucks? Now drained of all the whimsy that marked Islands’ debut, he strings romantic clichés together without a hint of irony. On 'Pumpkin', he croons do what I say / oh I could change your ways with all the gravity of a bird-watching Chris Martin. 'Umbrellas' opens with a clever dig – “you think those umbrellas at the exit are there for the taking / yes, you’re right, you’re a star”, Thorburn says, and then describes the subject in question as a janitor of sorts. It’s sad that there aren’t any other little witticisms elsewhere on the album, to distinguish the otherwise mould-formed pop structures.