On his much anticipated return, Hounds, Puma Blue draws the listener into his macabre musical macrocosm, once again illustrating an unparalleled ability to establish and uphold mood, tone and atmosphere.  

Wallowing in the caliginous crevices of bedroom pop, jazz, art rock and lo-fi, the genre-defiant Puma Blue is one of the most impressive artists you’ve never heard of. Combining the dark and dingy with the luscious and sensual, there is a constant duality, and vitality, to the sonic world of Puma. Subtle, melodically surprising and hauntingly beautiful, Puma sounds like King Krule’s gentler brother, Thom Yorke’s confounded son. Last year saw the release of the softly striking, emotionally rendering In Praise Of Shadows, a debut LP from the singer/songwriter, multi-instrumentalist and producer. The wait for fresh music has been a tedious one, as Puma embarked on tour dates and personal transitions, but now finally he has returned. 

Our first glimpse of the next chapter in Blue’s musical journey, Hounds suggests that we will be staring deeper into the darkness than ever before. Broody, brazen and bohemian, the new cut is gothically jazzy. The minimalist instrumental - consisting of erratic guitar and horn textures, a gravitational bass riff and staccato drums - rises and falls, seemingly representative of Puma’s muddled mind state. His Jeff Buckley-esque vocals are piercing and potent, erratic but eloquent, with the air of ambiguity never far from its clammy whispers. The accompanying Jak Payne-directed visual is a soaring success, with the stormy beach setting and impressive cinematography a suitable parallel to the moody timbre.