Where Westerman’s first record neurotically arranged harmonies into refined ambiences and lush production aesthetics reminiscent of Peter Gabriel and Mark Hollis, and the second succumbed to unsettlingly unformatted bittersweetness, like Nick Drake making a party record, in A Jackal’s Wedding he tries to put things into motion once again, if only by breaking them apart. First you clinch it, then you stress it, then it bursts and pours out.