The Invisible - Patience

The Quietus

What a strange double-life The Invisible lead. One minute – well, every few years – they're putting out their own skewwhiff pop albums, the next they're backing up Adele on big, emotional global smashes. It's always been a bit like this. Dave Okumu (vocals/guitar), Tom Herbert (bass/synth) and Leo Taylor (drums) met as kids but only came together as a band after they'd bumped into each other over the years, habitually playing on other people's records, waiting for the opportunity to craft something of their own.

Everything slotted into place with a satisfying click in 2009 with their Mercury-nominated self-titled debut, a fazed mix of electronica and the dreamier end of indie. Rispah (2012), a tribute to Okumu's late mother, was hazier still, plumbing a Cure kind of despair on 'Utopia' and 'The Wall', but still finding lithe grooves in 'Wings' and 'Generational'. With the right following wind, there was a big, brave, alternative pop band ready to flower.

Patience was nearly thwarted by another tragedy when Okumu was electrocuted on stage in Lagos, but thankfully he came through and now The Invisible seize an opportunity they almost missed. Here self-styled "luckiest man alive" Okumu is determined to express his good fortune – and he and his band do it by pulling in all those favours.

There's no Adele, but other singers who've benefited from that Invisible presence – Jessie Ware, Anna Calvi, Rosie Lowe – pitch in here, alongside New Zealand's prime purveyor of weird-out loungecore, Connan Mockasin, and Floating Points' Sam Shepherd. Subtly or overtly, they lift the new stuff – Ware swooping through the ambient R&B haze of 'So Well', Calvi uncharacteristically soft and breathy against Okumu's hoarse mumble on the itchy, bassy 'Love Me Again' – and the union of talents gives a positive spin.

There are positive messages too. 'Believe In Yourself' could hardly be anything else as it swells up through scratchy guitar licks, addictive and kinetic. 'Save You', with its Brit-funk strut, and 'Life's Dancers', all twinkling slow jam synths and a prayer "to help you through", accentuate the healing power of friends and lovers. None of this feels glib, not in the circumstances, and not when the music steers clear of mush to come out gorgeous, taut and streamlined.

And lighter than ever, really, barely a dark recess explored. The closest Patience comes to something unsettling lurking stage-left is in the minor keys of 'Best Of Me', where Okumu's promise that "you'll always have the best of me" rears up like a threat. But soon sinister electro-pop thickens into a jacking workout, then an overlapping cosmic wig-out, as The Invisible unfurl their full, joyous breadth of skills. It's our own good luck that they've had the chance.

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The Guardian 100

Following their 2012 album inspired by grief, Dave Okumu and band now deliver one steeped in joy, and full of ingenious details that only reveal themselves with multiple listens

Like its predecessor, 2012’s Rispah, you could describe the third album by the south London trio the Invisible as a record inspired by stark intimations of mortality. Four years ago, it was the death of frontman Dave Okumu’s mother midway through recording that provided the emotional fuel for the trio’s songs. Patience, meanwhile, is haunted by Okumu’s own first-hand brush with death: after he suffered an electric shock while playing on stage in Lagos, his life was apparently saved by bassist Tom Herbert removing the guitar from his hands. The former incident provoked what Okumu called “a love letter to grief”: 50 minutes of music that was moving, intense and occasionally harrowing, woven through with samples of traditional Kenyan spirituals recorded at his mother’s wake. The latter, on the other hand, has brought on “a deeper understanding of the value of life”, and a desire to capture “joy and gratitude for being alive”.

Related: The best albums of 2016 – so far

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The album can be broken down into two parts. The first is a selection of songs that show progression from their last two albums. ‘Save You’, ‘Best of Me’, ‘Life’s Dancers’ and ‘Memories’ are forward thinking post-pop with soul searching lyrics. ‘Save You’ is the prime example: “Take your mind back to the things you said, You reached deep down with the words you shared. You made sure you live in my head, I can't help but dream about you”. All the while a catchy stop-start guitar riffs gets in your head until the glorious pop chorus that hammers everything home. ‘Memories’ is far more poetic with the imagery this powerhouse trio create “Memories in perfect prism, On and on” and “Preserve for all eternity remembrance of you and me, Preserve for all eternity. Breathe into me the breath of life so I can know I'm not alone, Breathe into me the breath of life”. ‘Memories’ has a Massive Attack vibe to, and as the song grows and swells you almost expect it to skew into 'Teardop'.

The second is a collection of songs that, for the first time in The Invisible's career, features guest vocalists and musicians. The album starts with ‘So Well’ which sees Jesse Ware duetting with Okumu, ‘Different’ features Rosie Lowe, ‘Love Me Again’ sees Okumu teaming up with Anna Calvi for a third time and ‘K Town Sunset’ sees pop maverick Connan Mockasin joining the group. These some of the most interesting moments on the album. Not only does it showcase the band's musical abilities even more, it also works as a show reel for The Invisible's ability to write for others. ‘So Well’ is a prime example. It’s a tender ballad about love, rejection and redemption, but thanks to Ware on vocals it takes on a more sensitive and impuissant vibe. The opening lyrics set the tone of the song perfectly: “Easy come easy go, If you don't tell me I'll never know, The mystery remains unsolved, You didn't show me how it goes” Ware’s delicate vocals show a vulnerability that if Okumu would have lacked. This change in emotional impact is the difference between their debut and Rispah. The band has finally found its voice, and this shows throughout the album especially on the final song, and also the stand out moment of the album ‘K Town Sunset’. The opening woozy strains are quickly brought back into line with almost industrial beats, then Okumu and Mockasin’s combined vocals, with a wonky keyboard line, that slowly gets incorporated into some laidback neo-acid tweeking. It’s as close to perfection that 2016 has got.

Patience is an album made by a band reaching the pinnacle of its powers. Their ability to merge indie, soul, electronica, gospel and give it a sheer pop sets them apart from their peers. In the four years since Rispah we’ve had to be patient, at times I feared the band would go off and be producers, arrangers and remixers for bigger artists than come together and make another album, but as the old adage says 'A little patience goes a long way', and we have been rewarded for it. Patience not only lives up to its name, but surpasses it.

The Guardian 80

(Ninja Tune)

After veering down a dark road on 2012’s Rispah, which was troubled by the death of frontman Dave Okumu’s mother during recording, the Invisible have crossed very resolutely back into the light. On Patience, their third album, the south London trio have smoothed away the jagged guitar work and jittery electronics to create a tight, cohesive record bathed in a hazy West Coast glow (Okumu cites time spent in Los Angeles as an influence). You could call it excellent dinner-party music – the floaty groove of opener So Well sets a tone that’s rarely disturbed over 41 minutes – but tracks such as Memories are so beautifully constructed that such faint praise would only seem mean.