Finlay Shakespeare’s "Directions Out Of Town" feels like the soundtrack to an existential breakdown, set against the backdrop of abstract synth-pop with industrial grit. It’s a hypnotic exploration of disillusionment, loss, and the human struggle for clarity, delivered with a dense electronic pulse that’s as emotionally exhausting as it is intellectually engaging.

The album’s first track, "Away", immediately sets a contemplative mood, the relentless repetition of "Set the lights down low" placing you in a trance as the vocals spiral into lyrics that pull at both intimate memories and the blurred lines of identity. There's a resigned, almost spiritual quality in the way Shakespeare’s voice mixes with the synth textures, moving from soft reflection to existential crescendo, as he muses, "I could be alone, or I could be here". It's both an anthem of isolation and a surrender to the inevitable erosion of self in a decaying world.

“Get” and “Direction” push this further. Both tracks delve into personal dislocation, with glimmering synth melodies offsetting the bleakness of Shakespeare’s lyrical content. “Direction” in particular confronts the fallout of emotional exhaustion, with the lines “You peel back all the skin, just to only leave me standing within”, reflecting a disturbing level of vulnerability. Shakespeare’s ability to use minimal lyricism to convey complex emotional landscapes is striking. It’s not so much about storytelling as it is about mood sculpting - each word, and its placement within the musical landscape, is critical.

But it’s “I Go For A Walk” where the real emotional core of the album hits hardest. The track explores anger and helplessness through vivid, almost violent imagery: "Beat me around the back of my head so I can comply" leads into a disorienting rhythm, blurring the lines between self-destructive tendencies and numb resignation. Shakespeare’s synth work here is cold and metallic, yet full of life - a pulsating heartbeat in a body that's struggling to keep going.

As we move deeper into "Directions Out Of Town", tracks like “Face Value (Trio Mandala)” and “International” begin to reveal Shakespeare’s greater ambition - to create not just songs, but sonic worlds where every lyric is a building block in an emotional architecture. "International" stands out with its sharp social critique, packed in surreal, quasi-political imagery: "Here comes another red light green light buzzing in my head." The song wrestles with the disillusionment of modern life, but it’s not without hope - the longing for something pure (all the oranges in the world, a kingdom for a little orange tree) cuts through the noise of cultural decay. It’s like Shakespeare’s subtle way of reminding us that there’s beauty worth fighting for, even in the ruins.

The latter half of the album does not let up. “Go Back” returns to the theme of broken connections and lost potential, while the sprawling seven-minute closer “Poli” takes on an almost cinematic scale. The synths swell and retreat like ocean tides, carrying the listener through waves of introspection, capped by the haunting refrain, “It’s gone and it’s gone and it’s gone”, leaving you adrift in an echo chamber of melancholy.

What makes "Directions Out Of Town" truly brilliant is its layered complexity. At first listen, it could almost pass as a straightforward, albeit gloomy, synth-pop album. But the more time you spend with it, the more the intricacies reveal themselves. Shakespeare’s use of structural film as inspiration is clear - metaphor is stripped away, leaving the bare mechanisms of sound and emotion on full display. He’s not asking you to interpret, but rather to feel through the sonic textures, and to confront the discomfort that inevitably arises when there are no easy answers.

If there’s a comparison to be made, it’s to the experimental post-industrial pioneers of the 1980s and 90s - think a less chaotic Cabaret Voltaire or a more introspective Chris Carter. Shakespeare shares with them a willingness to push the boundaries of what electronic music can express emotionally. His blend of cold, machine-driven precision with the warmth of human vulnerability is utterly unique in today’s musical landscape.

In "Directions Out Of Town", Finlay Shakespeare has crafted a modern masterpiece of disillusionment. It’s an album for a world that feels like it’s collapsing in slow motion - beautiful, uncomfortable, and relentlessly honest. Whether this really is Shakespeare’s swan song, as hinted, remains to be seen. But if so, it’s a hell of a way to say goodbye.