"Jesus, turn the racket down, is it really that time again?", an angry mob of music writers and enraged humans profane the world over, their ears sprouting cotton wool, their heads mummified by bandages.
Yes, just 12 months since the last dispatch from Blur's one-man (albeit sulking) rebellion, Graham Coxon is back! The speed at which he works - this entire project was recorded and completed by Coxon in just two weeks - means that, unless Blur have an album in the pipeline, there is no hiding place, for him, or us, from the likes of 'Crow Sit On Blood Tree'.
And while it wouldn't be spiteful to suggest that once you've heard one Coxon LP, you've got the picture, his solo projects are viscerally entertaining, musically engaging, emotionally overwrought and wholly worthwhile.
Written in a period of apparently monumental personal disruption - "a slow and noble breakdown of personality" ('Too Uptight') - Coxon's musical 'head' and horizons have shifted little on this, his third long-player.
So, you get the delicious, oceanic acoustic introspection of 'All Has Gone', 'Too Uptight' and 'Bonfires', which display not only the sublimely dextrous guitar-work at his fingertips, but also expose the limits of his charming but register sidestepping vocal range.
Equally charged, though more obviously, is opener 'Empty Word', which, in one track, sums up Coxon's solo work, as a distorted squall of twisted rage vomits from the speakers, a blinding light of rhythmic energy, amidst lines such as "life is hollow and absurd" and "I'm just such a freak".
Of course, and despite the rather life-changing arrival of daughter Pepper into Coxon's world, you also get a neat line in the bratty, unfathomable garage rock ranting that has been shot through his solo work, such as 'Burn It Down' and the frankly compelling 'Thank God For The Rain'.
But, amid the familiar signposts of mental wreckage and axe havoc, Coxon has also imbedded an engaging penchant for keyboards on this album, particularly with the organ-fed (and aforementioned) 'Too Uptight' and 'All Has Gone' and the marching drone of 'Big Bird'.
Ultimately, the whimpering then foot-stomping exorcisms of Graham Coxon's solo work are bound to enrage critics and others, as they disdainfully reject the frantic and supposedly pitiful outpourings of this multi-millionaire musician.
However, for the rest of us who can appreciate that demons are not evacuated from a precariously unhinged head by financial nirvana and critical blow-jobs, there is as much to be embraced in this as in any of the Gorillaz material. If not more.
