Mind blank. Suave jazz side train leaves the station. Accidents happen in pairs. Armageddon slippers gone southwards. Backstabbing little punks. Which exit for the art gallery? Is there coffee available? I’m not sure I belong here.

Trip metal meets lounge music. That’s my summary of the new Wolf Eyes album and I’m sticking to it. With No Answer: Lower Floors having proved that this is a band still capable of surprises, it should be entirely expected that I Am a Problem: Mind in Pieces is something of a head-scratcher. At surface level much of the material here is a continuation of the stubbornly obtuse industrial noise of its predecessor, but it also picks up some of the vibes from the group’s shows in recent years. Let’s go moshing in the theme park. Oh, and also let’s start with a six-minute diversion into the world of smooth fm. I love it when a plan comes together.

The second track here, ‘Twister Nightfall’, is actually kinda funky. No, seriously. It’s like 20 Jazz Funk Greats went on holiday with Entertainment! and birthed some sort of mutant industrial-dance-punk hybrid. Wolf Eyes have always been physical, in a confrontational sort of way typically, but for a few minutes here they coax movement out in a way that’s startling conventional. A bit like being cornered by the reanimated corpse of David Icke (please note: to the best of my knowledge David Icke isn’t dead yet – I don’t want to start any Twitter rumours), who, armed with a stereo blasting disco hits of the Seventies, makes it perfectly clear that showing off your moves is the only way you’re going to get out of this living room alive.

That sounded worse than intended. I don’t want to give off the impression that I Am a Problem: Mind in Pieces is some sort of torture session. Gone are the days when Wolf Eyes were operating in territory where they were actually difficult to listen to. That’s not to say that they aren’t still fabulously noisy, they just sound like an actual band nowadays. Jim Bajo’s guitar sounds like a guitar most of the time. What more do you want? Acoustic breakdowns? A guest Ian Anderson flute solo? (Pretty sure that’s all coming on the next album).

It’s still scuzzy as anything too. ‘Enemy Ladder’ – garage punk for people who don’t own garages – is downright feral, although I think Nate Young sounds a bit like Andy Cairns towards the end (draw your own conclusions from this comparison). As a precursor to closer ‘Cynthia Vortex, AKA Trip Memory Illness’ it’s a masterstroke. Like playing Panzerfaust in a minibus on the way to see Dead Can Dance at the Royal Festival Hall.

Weird, wonderful and moderately imposing. Wolf Eyes remain a band to treasure. They are the sound of the avant-garde stripped of all pretension and put where it should be: in a sweaty room with a big speaker stack and some dubious looking light fittings. That sounded less pretentious in my head. Please don’t mention the flute solo to me again. Does Jack White really like this stuff? Why can’t he make music that sounds like he does?

My sense of adequate belonging is directly related to my ability to consume caffeine in publicly-funded spaces. Wonderful little punks. Armageddon went home yesterday. Accidents are forever occurring on Sundays. Suave jazz in lakeside lagoons. Mind in pieces.