Brighton's generic chameleon Fin Greenall presents a third outing in his singer-songwriter hat.

It's been a gratifyingly diverse career thus far for Fink. Starting out as a DJ, promoter and producer, he was encouraged by imprint Ninja Tune to become their first ever singer-songwriter, which he did with gusto while keeping his nimble fingers in a multitude of musical pies.

The result is an unconstrained approach to his solo work, with material encapsulating folk, blues, electronica and R&B planted fruitfully together on albums that have proven international crowd pleasers.

Sort Of Revolution features the collaborative talents of Guy Whittaker on bass and Tim Thornton on drums, but Greenall returns to production having handed the reigns to Lamb's Andy Barlow on predecessor Distance And Time.

A new draftee is John Legend, repaying Fink's work on Greenlight with his writing and key tinkling skills. Unsurprisingly, his efforts are of the album's more provocative: Move On Me is repressed sexuality from the vocal delivery through to the ticking clock percussion, while Maker oozes understated aggression ''All this time we’ve spent talking ****/ Give me an inch and I'm taking it''.

Opener and title track Sort Of Revolution morphs from gentle strumming and lulling harmonies to a progressively electric climax. Unafraid of the abstract, Nothing Is Ever Finished boasts the sort of skilled blending of tempos and tones that surely earned Fink his Jazz Café residency.

Other songs are more literal and evocative; See It All sets up a picture of the New York night skyline and allows you to picture the scene with vocal breaks and lo-fi beats. Ex Crash Test Dummy Son Of Dave crops up with screeching harmonica on Pigtails, and the playlist is concluded with a cover of Jeff Barry's Walking In The Sun.

Sort Of Revolution is an idea-laden, sublime study in the art of pleasing yourself without drowning in indulgence.  (Taken from BBC Review)

While the lyrics on Fink’s follow-up album, “Distance and Time,” retain his trademark tension and honest lines of observation, the record feels more sophisticated and somewhat larger than the last, book-ended by the strung out, softly spoken anger of “Trouble is What You’re In” and the grunting power chords of “Little Blue Mailbox.” Fink feels that was a direct result of this experience on the road. We did ‘Biscuits for Breakfast’ completely backwards,” he explains. “It was recorded before we’d ever done a gig, while bands normally have to gig for a while before they get a record deal, then get into the studio. This time around we’ve been on the road for a year and the whole experience has given us some insight into what it takes to headline these places".