For someone responsible for the indie anthems Alright, Caught By The Fuzz, Sun Hits The Sky and Grace, to the casual listener Supergrass seemed to epitomise sunny youthful optimism. To such a degree, in fact, that Stephen Spielberg once invited the band to become a 90s version of the interminably wacky The Monkees. But, dig a little deeper, you'll find that Coombes and Supergrass weren't always that insatiably upbeat. For instance, one of the biggest hits, Moving, articulates feelings of desperation and desolation. There was always a lot more to the band than which immediately met the eye…

Fast forward to 2015, and post-Supergrass, Coombes is unveiling his second solo album, a work that effortlessly showcases his superb skill as a songwriter. Matador is very removed from the heightened pop tones of the mid 90s. Instead there is a great maturity at work, befitting a man who is in his late 30s. Like Paul McCartney moved on from the teenage thrills of She Love You to the eloquent and sophisticated complexity of You Never Give Me Your Money, Coombes has developed as an artist, but always with a love of melody and cohesion at the heart, cohabiting with his increasing use of light and dark, and thoughts of love and loss throughout. This was obvious with his first solo album, Here Come The Bombs, while the startling desolation of the limited edition stand-alone single One of These Days, released in 2013, clearly demonstrated a man both at the top of his creative game, but also one who is suffering, but at least, not in silence. Classic artist's angst? You bet. And in Matador, Coombes has delivered. Fusing many disparate sounds and styles – Radiohead, Germanic krautrock, folktronica, John Lennon, gospel-rock and plain old pop – Coombes outstanding ability as a songwriter and arranger shines through once again, makings thing flow seamlessly, when on the surface you might sometimes think it shouldn't work.

The first two tracks, Buffalo and 20/20 are in effect three-part songs, both fused into one cogent whole. Fellow Oxfordians Radiohead are a big influence – indeed they and Supergrass came up at around the same time – as can be heard via the opening electronic effects, piano chords, and synth drums, before this neatly segues into the chorus, an uplifting passage of crashing drums, soaring harmonies, and shouty vocals, before the song, again neatly and yet unexpectedly, trails off via synth strings and acoustic bass. Meanwhile, 20/20 begins with twinkly music-box synths, sound effects and vocal harmonies nestling together, all cleverly and thoughtfully done. 'It's alright, the ends in sight, worry fates the soul away, I'l take the hurricane for you'. And then, Radiohead rears it's pleasant head again, a repetitive acoustic figure, mildly squelching effects, Coombes' voice faintly similar to Thom Yorke's… It's certainly not copycat Coombes' voice and musical style are just too distinctive and skilful in their own right.

Then almost at a complete tangent, comes The English Ruse, a title that belies the underlying Neu!/krautrock inspired foundations of motorik rhythms, and pulsing synths that sear and soar, reaching for the metaphorical stars, on a wave of musical optimism via some uplifting female harmonies, before segueing fairly abruptly into an experimental interlude of angelic voices, big drums and more synths, before a synth (or is a mangled guitar?) lets rip. Joyful and playful, it's where, perhaps rather oddly, Coombes' vocal closely aligns itself with much of his earlier Supergrass output.

And then there's the pastoral folk-pop and Lennonesque turn of The Girl Who Fell To Earth, complimented by chugging, brushed stickwork, that gives the song a minor sense of urgency, while Detroit – longest song here at nearly six minutes – is a highly engaging mid-tempo number, amalgamating a subtle motorik beat with the infectious vocal melody, underpinned by sturdy acoustic guitar. Again, the song switches into something very different, big female harmonies to the fore, Primal Screamesque only in its urgent notes of optimism.

Coombes played most everything on this homegrown, vaguely lo-fi record, bar a few drumming tracks, female harmonies and one contribution on synth from his brother, Charly. And he seemed to revel in the process, building up songs, experimenting with effects, arranging the pieces. Matador is very eclectic, and yet somehow is held together, often with the help of his growing collection of analogue synthesisers, that not unexpectedly, give the recording a certain depth and warmth that digital just can't achieve…

To add to the overall sound vibe, there's a stream of consciousness here and there, an extension of the absurdist philosophy that informed his previous album. As Coombes has previously said: 'I find the contradictory side of life fascinating', as he tries to tie everything together, in attempting to make some kind of sense of our contradictory ways.

Indeed, the first five tracks represent a stunning collection of songs, Coombes at his very very best, and defiantly exploring new and unexpected pastures whilst indulging in his love of music making. After that things get a little patchy, but still the ideas are flowing, the intentions are good, nothing is predictable, and sometimes Coombes hits the spot once again.

Needle's Eye continues this journey, once again marrying the disparate elements of verse and chorus, in creating a workable whole, injecting unexpected moments such as a warped spoken word passage. As does the contemplative Seven Walls, with its echoing drum beats, swirling synths, vibes, heavily distorted guitar, piano, and a sample of a girl laughing… 'So, let's climb up the seven walls/share a stolen thought/because the night is ours'. To The Wire is in effect the final song, and one of the highlights of the album, a summation of a tortured soul searching for meaning and salvation: I wanna cut myself down/ before its too late/I want to touch solid ground/I wanna talk myself around/but all the words fail/they don't make a sound… Stay in my heart/Out of sight, you're hard to find.

Of course, stardom brings with it the normal bumps and bruises of everyday life, albeit obscured somewhat by the inane and superficial sentiments often expressed in 'pop' music. With Matador, Coombes attempts to map out his life in terms of the emotions that we all 'enjoy'; from dark uncertainty to tentative searching, and confident resilience… lyrically questioning, musically uplifting, the fight goes on. As Coombes says on the stripped back closing number and title track itself, that clocks in at just 1.25mins. 'They want blood, they want your blood and soul/But the hardest fight is the one you fight alone… I fight like a Matador'.

Jeff Hemmings

Website: GazCoombes.com
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