Recorded on the Isle of Mull in between periods of writing with his band Frightened Rabbit, Scott Hutchinson purged his thoughts and made a solo album that creaks and rattles with self-hate and bitterness towards the outside world. With the ceremonial Hate Music as its axis – a cathartic, caustic war of words that comes across like Biffy Clyro and Queens of the Stone Age at a couples therapy session – the album feels at once soiled by the damp mud and drab skies of the Inner Hebrides, and also caught under the polluted, burnt-orange skies of an American city. But no amount of slide guitar can separate the Scotsman from his homeland completely: the dank nature of his lyrics are pure British doom and gloom, whether discussing romance ("We suck one another at night"), fame ("Chloroform the singer who has nothing to say") or introspection ("How can I come to be such a stupid boy?"). Owl John: low on self-esteem, but high on ambition.