For some time now, I’ve been throwing praise in the general direction of James Blackshaw with all the enthusiasm of Monty Panesar bowling to tail-enders on a spinner-friendly track. Whether live or on record, each encounter I have with his work makes me want to leap around girlishly, high-fiving anyone within a ten metre radius. His new release Litany of Echoes is another six-fer for his records, and one that will undoubtedly have purists purring.

As with the last time I saw him in concert, it opens somewhat surprisingly (considering it is his proficiency with the twelve string guitar for which he is rightly acclaimed) with Blackshaw at the piano, repeatedly and rapidly sending a phrase echoing round the room with minor variations in the intensity of his playing. Some string-scraping heralds the long introduction to the wondrous “Past Not Passed”; this more abstract beginning finally giving way to some melodies which sound instantly familiar, Blackshaw’s guitar lines dancing amongst the violin and viola lines with glee. After a slow start, the threads of “Echo and Abyss” spiral off dizzyingly, the nimblest of fingers (pleasingly, you can hear them squeal as they slide down the strings) coaxing and teasing them into a vivid tapestry, sudden gusts of wind occasionally threatening to lift the whole thing skywards. Strings and piano return to embellish the shortish, shimmering “Infinite Circle””, before deserting to leave just guitar for “Shroud”. It makes no difference to Blackshaw, who cajoles more melody out of the one instrument than seems reasonable; if I haven’t seen him do this sort of thing on stage I’d swear he was overdubbing himself. After this, the album is pointed towards the pavilion by the return of the opening track’s ostinato, accompanied by the shrieking of strings.

There is no substitute for pure talent. Particularly once the ICC’s new rules regarding toilet breaks come into force. Meanwhile, Litany Of Echoes is on display now atop the hallowed turf of Tompkins Square.