After a quick spin it’s fairly obvious that those in the aural vicinity are at risk of narcoleptic episodes with it being so laid back it needs turning to prevent bedsores. Folk’s chilled enough as it is, but this album is on a whole new level with its spidery vocal harmonies waltzing over a fuzzy, synthetic fog whose ever presence is the backbone of this both painfully simplistic yet undeniably charming opus.

It’s doubtful whether the words ‘dynamite’ and ‘backside’ are even in the Orienteers’ vocabulary, but that’s no biggie (except on the occasions when they look to be disappearing up the latter) because in an age where X Factor rules the roost these guys are sticking two fingers up at convention.

After repeated listens, and a lot of caffeine Orienteers’ ego-free work really starts to show its understated brilliance with subconscious salutes to their influences such as the cheerfully melodic ‘Walking Song’ - very Belle & Sebastian - to the dual harmonies of Ben Wilson and Brennan Pilkington whose silky, pretty as a petal delivery is in league with that of Simon & Garfunkel.

This album, with its’ hushed vocals and celestial soundscapes is truly unique and whilst it harks back to fellow countryman Neil Young’s early work and general 60’s lysergically inspired genius it is timeless with there always being a market for such a meditative, somnolently seductive serenade.

In short, the places outside your bedroom where you’d find this playing are few and far between but that doesn’t make either its’ contents any less touching or its’ composers any less talented. They’ve found a niche and smacked it out of the ground.

(‘Staying Place’ made them minor celebs in Canada with opening slots for the likes of The Flaming Lips)