Halo Maud’s sophomore set, Celebrate, is a bright, bold, statement, but it’s hard to pigeon-hole or characterise. It might sound a bit out there, but plugged-in I was getting a kind of Tropicalia vibe, due to the cherrypicking, mixing and matching of cool colourful references. Snatches of stuff such as chanson, swinging `60s Parisian Yé-yé and a Rio / Bahian groove. Stereolab, and those following in The Lab’s footsteps, like Vanishing Twin, were comparisons that immediately sprung to mind. However, the arrangements here are unconventional, explosive, exuberant, unpredictable. Juxtaposing delicacy and bombast. Pulling apart the more traditional “rock” references at its roots. The title track, for example, jumps between free-jazz noise and fragile folk. Terres Infinies also balances quieter moments with big joie de vivre blasts. The latter is a cut of killer retro-not-retro that label mate David Holmes coulda sneaked onto the score for Killing Eve. My Desire Is Pure possesses opulent strings, dope distorted guitar, and a distressed drum break. When Halo hits the high notes she’s a little bit Bjork.

The Icelandic auteur echoes through a few of the tracks: Slowly Surely, which pits bossa nova picking and campfire strum against ringing synths, and Catch The Wave, which is perhaps the record’s centrepiece. Keys call back to the second summer of love, like a rose-tinted rave riff nostalgically, softly reprised, while appropriately aquatic electronics spin, swirl, bubble, and fizz. IDM-esque rolling loops flirting with a gentle funk. It’s Halo’s words and delivery, both eccentric, ecstatic, like extracts from a dream diary, that draw the parallels with Bjork. The emphasis on individuality, intimacy. The need to express, capture, something honest and true.

These lyrics switch, swap between English and French, and thematically the album seems to follow a loose narrative thread. Beginning in love with life and the new, rushing toward the future, bursting with positivity, refusing to be pushed from its chosen path. Then taking the plunge, risking it all in a romantic deep dive. This amour growing, evolving into obsession. Along the way, Halo covers Iceberg, a song by Genevieve Letarte, that appeared on a late `80s album (Nous Autres) from veteran improvisers Rene Lussier and Fred Frith. While more synthetic Halo’s is a pretty faithful, respectful reading. Her pronunciation like a syllable symphony, near accapella, save some sparse orchestration and flute. A Te Voir (To See You) sets a beautiful, breathless ballad to near Durutti Column dexterity and sedate marching snares. The penultimate Pesnopoika is a serious shuffling, syncopated play on Bulgarian weddings and folklore. There’s something of Brazil’s Os Mutantes about it, and it’s treated shredding. The last track finally asks “Entends-tu ma voix?” – Can you hear my song? Her gift – before confessing, coquettishly, “Je ne chante pour toi”. It was for you all along.

Halo Maud’s Celebrate is out now, care of Heavenly Recordings.