In a world where no-necked, despicable mouth-breathing imbeciles like the BNP and UKIP can actually get voted into the real parliaments, thank life for people like Patrick Wolf. While the world gets more and more fucked, right-wing and poor every day, he remains a principled, tenacious example of morality and intelligence, never afraid to speak out against body facism, sexuality and the painful adolescence which made him. Luckily his music’s wicked too.

Initially conceived as a double album, Battle, inspired by depression and love, the resulting gush of inspiration provoked the release of two fan-funded separate releases instead – this, and The Conqueror, apparently due next year. A good call: as enjoyable as The Batchelor is, it’s an emotive listen. First fruit The Vulture was dense, murky and paranoid, like Return to Cookie Mountain-era TV on The Radio. Pressing two albums of this at once would have almost definitely overwhelmed.

One of the most beautiful humans in the world, Patrick has never shied away from confidence in his brimming sexuality (“I am fucked!/and I am fucking too!”, he famously cried on Tristan), however in The Batchelor this manifests itself as something more thoughtful and bruised. Like Dorian Gray, another elegant bachelor with a penchant for desire, waking up to find his portrait now with a hint of fatigue and sin around the eyes (“How pale and deathly I’ve become”, he laments on the magnificent Thickets) .

Occasional vulnerability and self-doubt suit him, though. Even when the sombre, rustic violin & organ-led instrumental backdrop to songs like Thickets and Who Will? stray into My Life Story or LoTR end-credits territory, it’s rarely mawkish or self-pitying, just tender and fragile. Injecting the most heartbreaking ballads with heavenly choirs and underlying messages of hope highlight the intention to drown his darkness in fun, optimism and doing what Padders does best: coming from The Future, wiggling around like an aloof minx and going off on one about love, death and pain in a spandex mansuit.

Although it’s his party and he’ll self-reflect ostentatiously if he wants to, The Batchelor is also littered with glittering, superior pop gems. The title track is a jaunty, sea-shanty, soul-drenched number about no-one will ever wear poor Pat’s “silver ring” – which you sense is his choice, rather than the lack of eager volunteers - backed by his trademark sultry growl and pounce. Standout track Oblivion sets skittering Bangra alongside prim, spat Final Fantasy-like vocals.

 Then there’s the first single: the outrageously great Hard Times. Not a call to arms as such, but certainly a call to…be really quite cross at all the growing insidious meanness Patrick speaks out about so readily, and dance at it in protest. Yes, some of it’s pretentious, but what do you want? N-Dubz remixes? It’s Patrick Wolf! Moments of self-indulgent overwroughtness like Count of Casualty and Damaris (more at home as background music in a Thai takeaway) mis-step in what is otherwise a pugnacious and bold album.

 At still only 26 this month, the tightness of the arrangements and scope of ambition present within The Batchelor is both impressive and cement Patrick Wolf’s reputation as a pop star to believe in, in the here and now, who knows precisely how and why the world is messed up. These are hard times. Patrick Wolf has worked his passionate heart out to let us know, and ultimately gives us a soundtrack to fight back with.

Release Date:01/06/2009
Artist Website: www.patrickwolf.com
Label: Bloody Chamber Music

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