The album is a little verbose in places as Okereke delights and demeans in equal measure past loves and lovers.

Stripped of harsh digital fuzz and angular guitars, Fatherland is an honest, satisfying window into the heart and mind of the man himself.

Instrumentally, the generous helpings of tenor sax, soft electric piano and clarinets give Fatherland a depth that warrants further listens once Kele’s rounded melodies and acoustic guitar structures have been dissected.

There are moments where the album shines, absolutely, but it doesn’t match up to the same level as Okereke’s previous work, both with Bloc Party and solo. However, it’s still a worthy piece in its own right, and a testament to the idea that a musician changing their sound is a gamble that can pay dividends.

Okereke’s shaky voice means that Fatherland is far slighter than it might have been. Only Versions of Us truly resonates, and that’s thanks in no small part to Corinne Bailey Rae, whose interplay with Okereke is a joy.

Kudos for another reinvention, but the best version of Kele probably sits nearer the middle of the spectrum.

It’s just a shame that what lies behind dozens of layers of metaphorical shrouds, isn’t a bit more poetic and interesting.