When Antony Szmierek’s debut, ‘Service Station at the End of the Universe’, became one of last year’s most distinctive breakthrough albums, any follow-up was bound to arrive under an uncomfortable spotlight. His second record ‘Decoding Birdsong’ doesn’t shy away from that pressure; it turns it into its subject. Across its 13 tracks, Szmierek examines his own rise, then examines the instinct to examine it at all.

Opener ‘Chalk’ lays the philosophical groundwork. Over restless electro grooves and spoken-word urgency, he likens analysing success to chalking a snooker cue: a ritual that offers the illusion of control in a game largely dictated by chance. It’s a classic Szmierek opener, marrying dancefloor propulsion with existential inquiry. But the buoyant disco-house of ‘The Heron’ immediately challenges that mindset. Inspired by a heron repeatedly sighted nesting on the banks of the Mersey, the bird becomes a symbol of patience rather than prediction, urging us to experience the world before trying to interrogate it.

Therein lies the record’s central tension. Where Szmierek’s debut found magic in everyday places, ‘Decoding Birdsong’ asks what happens when the search for meaning becomes all-consuming. Coincidences become omens, luck becomes destiny, and every fleeting moment threatens to collapse beneath the weight of interpretation. It’s a remarkably self-aware record, one that recognises its own tendency to mythologise experience.

Its emotional turning point arrives with ‘Seminal’ and ‘Flight Simulator’. The former sinks into isolation and emotional paralysis, while the latter gradually transforms that anxiety into something quietly euphoric. Swelling melodic techno, and Imogen and the Knife’s ethereal presence, mirror a hard-won realisation: nobody is properly equipped for adulthood, and whether it’s luck, fate or practice carrying us through matters less than choosing to trust yourself anyway.

Thankfully, none of this comes at the expense of fun. Max Rad’s production constantly finds movement within introspection, marrying garage, house, breakbeats and shimmering alt-pop to Szmierek’s philosophy. ‘The First Five Minutes of Magnolia’ pairs grungy guitars with bright filter-house exuberance, while collaborators including Pretty Girl, Ellur and 1-800 GIRLS broaden his sonic palette without ever distracting from the album’s emotional throughline.

By the time the title track arrives, Szmierek reaches a quietly revelatory conclusion: some things lose their magic the harder we try to explain them. By the end, he realises that, like birdsong itself, beauty isn’t always there to be translated. Sometimes it’s enough simply to listen.