‘To the misty Wadden, Where the cold winds blow? Haven’t been to all islands, But they’re on the list, Do you hear the curlew call? Deep down in the mist?’ (Not Enough)

It is always pleasing to encounter fellow appreciators of our great seabirds, even if they overlook the mighty cormorant.  This German duo, who hail from Hagen, not only name themselves after a seabird (renowned for its habit of ejecting a notably pungent oil), but their opening track also contemplates cosmically empowered terns.

This is the duo’s debut full-length and follows a slew of splits and 7-inch EPs over the past decade.  It is a languidly beguiling treat – lo-fi, brittle, contagiously melodic.  The rhythmic heart of their sound is based around the strummed guitar and the crisply metronomic drumming.  This proves the scaffolding for the duos keen ear for the type of mournfully languorous melody that is almost impossible to shake off.  At times, this is delivered by brightly chiming guitar, at others by bracing flares of synth.

Meanwhile, the gently murmured, nasally high-pitched vocals are a wispy, delicately restrained presence as they contemplate life’s important questions: Can you conjure Blackbeard’s ghost?  What makes aquarium fish happily horny? How long is long enough at the beach?  From the coiling guitar and tinkling keys of Space Terns to the dissonantly enticing synth finale to Children Of The Wind, and then from the more strident He’s Got The Cross to the quietly entrancing Into The Circle, the palette is an economic one. Yet, this economy is one that The Fulmars marshal with a subtle, mesmerising dexterity.