The Russian Futurists is the nom de plume of one Matthew Adam Hart, a Canadian who released one of the most moving and lovely LPs of last year using only a cheap dimestore Farfisa synth and an analog 8-track. If all this smacks of up-its-own-ass Ludditism for its own sake, I can assure you it's nothing of the sort. "The Method of Modern Love" successfully combines the melodic prettiness of prime-time Todd Rundgren and the downbeat, elegiac mood of recent Mercury Rev and Flaming Lips albums with an ease which makes its low budget recording techniques seem even more remarkable.

Apparently, the whole album is a highly personalised series of songs about the break-up of Hart's relationship with the love of his life, and the mood of loss and bereavement resonates throughout every one of its ten songs, but the overall ambience is thankfully more reminiscent of "Blood on The Tracks" than anything by that purveyor of cheesily self-obsessed divorce albums, Phil Collins.

The album opens with "Your Big Brown Eyes And My Big Broke Heart", which immediately sets the tone for the rest of the album; fizzy, sing-song synths, wounded, sardonic lyrics and a melodic sense that would make Brian Wilson blush. It's followed by "The Science Of the Seasons", an awestruck song about the insignificance of human beings in the face of nature in which Hart sounds as confused and vulnerable as an abandoned puppy. Its followed by the slightly unfocused "Red Red Wine", but don't give up now, because it's round about here that things start to get really interesting. The next two songs, "Pine Prisonyard" and "C'Mon" are nothing less than overwhelmingly beautiful, with indelible melodies, lush Christmassy arrangements and a crushing sadness that evokes bittersweet memories of lost childhood innocence.

Momentum continues throughout the second half of the album, with "Karkaradon Karkarius" sounding like a distant, lo-fi cousin of The Flaming Lips' "The Magician Vs. The Headache", and the closing number, "A Mind's Dying Verse (You And The Wine)" revisiting the sugary synth-pop melodies of The Human League but adding an air of regret and loss that's so weepily downbeat it almost equals anything on "Pet Sounds".

Ir's a surprise that so far, the only people in Britain who seem to have picked up on this album are myself and Paul Lester at Uncut magazine. It deserves to be ranked alongside The Magnetic Fields "69 Love Songs" and Mercury Rev's "Deserter's Songs" as one of the most affecting soundtracks to breakdown, catharsis and eventual renewal and recovery to have graced these shores in many a long year. Let's hope there's more to come.

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