At times, the homo sapiens of the Arab Strap world seemed easily reducible to mere grunts and bodily functions - or, they would be, if it weren't for the pair's ability to occasionally inject intriguing fits of (sometimes wrenching) romanticism and bright-eyed hope into these songs. While Middleton's careful instrumentation heaped layer upon layer of emotional intrigue into their music, Moffatt mumbled and snarled and grumbled through a haze of sloppy post-coital sweat, self-loathing, and disappointment, managing to simultaneously scald listeners with his acid tongue and to still remain semi-unintelligible.

Arab Strap were brutal but boozy, raw but slurred, and always on the brink: rarely could their music ever be classified as completely comfortable. Still, they weren't without a sense of humor - black as it might have been, however - and moments of straightforward pop know-how would appear now and again over the course of their 11-year career.

After releasing six studio full-lengths, two live albums, countless singles and EPs, and even a remix of a David Holmes kicker that became a certifiable hit in Britain ("Don't Die Just Yet"), Middleton and Moffatt parted ways in 2006, having decided they'd taken the Arab Strap vision as far as they could. Perhaps they'd planned to split before ever making a vaguely upbeat disc? Their final release, The Last Romance (Chemikal Underground), might have hinted at the possibility of improved mental states, but ultimately they bowed out with their bummed-out paradigm largely intact - and quite a remarkable catalog to boot.

Middleton first solo foray dates back to 2003, with the triple-mouthful 5:14 Fluoxytine Seagull Alcohol John Nicotine (Chemikal Underground). Lord knows the title's significance, but the recording itself is an incredibly personal, genuinely affecting collection of musings on self-loathing, solitude, and heartbreak - a fair continuation of the Arab Strap platform.

The multi-instrumentalist who had, for the past six albums prior, been credited in the liner notes with "most things musical" (as the vocalist, Moffatt was credited with "most things not"), had finally stepped to the mic to reveal a voice, which, curiously enough, sounded more than a bit similar to Moffatt. Over crisp shards of acoustic guitars and delicate whorls of keyboards, Middleton mumbled, grumbled, and ached in disarmingly candid fashion, albeit with frequently more warmth than that offered up by Moffatt. Particularly devastating is the oh-so-vulnerable "Cold Night," a brittle acoustic confession capable of slaying unsuspecting listeners with the pained plea, "Where are you tonight?/ Why aren't you here?/ You should be looking after me this winter/ I sure as hell can't." Ouch.

If 5:14 should be considered a transitional album, Middleton's next two, 2005's Into the Woods (Chemikal Underground) and 2007's A Brighter Beat (Full Time Hobby), are giant steps forward in formulating a sound that moved beyond the now-familiar Arab Strap template. After all, he and Moffatt had split amicably out of recognition that they'd gone as far with the style as they could. Everything about Into the Woods - from its playful Paul Tonner picture-book illustrations to its fuller rock-ish instrumentation to Middleton's considerably more open-mouthed delivery - marked a significant change in direction. The biggest shift of them all: welding downbeat lyrical content (though perhaps not as bleak as that of previous records, but what could be, honestly?) to deceptively catchy melodies.

"You're gonna break my heart, I know it," he forecasts on the strident piano-and-cello chamber-pop of "Break My Heart," and somehow, amongst the rollicking rhythm and jaunty ivory-twinklings, the predicted outcome manages to never sound that bad. Of course, listen a bit more closely and maybe you'll change your mind: further along, he confides: "If you don't break my heart I'll do it myself/ and when I do/ I'm going to count all the numbers for all the years/ If I don't have you I'm condemned to sing shit songs/ I'll fuck my guitar and drink myself deaf." Then there's "A Happy Medium," quite possibly the album's catchiest number, a skittering acoustic-house hybrid propelled by a singsong chorus of "Woke up again today / realized I hate myself / My face is a disease."

Still, Middleton does allow a reverie or two of romantic optimism creep into the picture: the wobbly electro-dance shuffle of "No Modest Bear" highlights the prankishly delivered lines, "The world can't come / in here today / Shut the curtains / phone in sick / It's time to play."

A Brighter Beat furthered the approach, hammering tightly constructed pop melodies to exposed-vein revelations such as the thundering "Death Love Depression Love Death" (containing the immortal advice, "You can make things happen if you jinx them"). If it weren't for the title and chorus, "Fuck It, I Love You" - a sweet-lipped admission of vulnerability powered by sunny-day glockenspiel and the begging refrain of "Fuck it, I love you, there you go / three little words on a mobile phone / When are you coming home?" - could have easily been a radio hit. But, alas, Middleton achieved his first rush of chart notoriety in Britain with the anti-Christmas Christmas single "We're All Going to Die." Scope the vid, showcasing Middleton as a rather, er, unusual Santa Claus:

Sleight of Heart eases up on the rock quotient of its two predecessors in favor of gentle, occasionally anthemic folk-rock, thus discarding the electronics of A Brighter Beat and replacing them with elegant piano accompaniment. Also largely missing are the amped-guitars of the last album. In their place, Middleton's acoustic guitars deliver an intimate warmth to this latest batch of introspective songs. Violin takes a prominent role as well, thanks to the sensitively rendered flourishes provided by angel-voiced backing vocalist Jenny Reeve. The whole thing has been lushly arranged and lovingly recorded - high praise must be given to Paul Savage for such a pristine production - and Middleton's delivery, warmer than ever, has been pushed to the front of the mix for maximum emotional impact.

To be blunt, he's never sounded as confident in his vocals as he does here, and this added boost at the mic only makes the heartfelt thrust of his lyrical content even more powerful than before. No longer content with mumbling out his cries for help or confessions of self-doubt, Middleton now hurls the words into our earphones, and it would take a cold, cold heart to deny their power.

Opening track "Week Off" is a gorgeous piece of indie chamber-pop, pulsing with sprightly piano runs and set aglow by wonderfully ornate curls of violin filigree. It begins innocuously enough, with Middleton announcing intentions to take a week off, to take a rest. Fair enough. With the song's breezy, spring-afternoon melody moving things along so amiably, such a prospect makes perfect sense - and so the listener gets easily lost amidst the grand tableau of pianos and violins and relaxing lay-abouts.

Pay closer attention, however, and along comes a torrent of self-doubt and mental fatigue: "I'm going to stop soon because I'm tired, tired and full, full of sorrow / Tired at the thought that if I sleep it only brings a new tomorrow." One could be forgiven for missing these admissions entirely, though, given the richness of their surroundings.

"Blue Plastic Bags" - a slow-building bleary-eyed anthem culminating in the oddly cathartic, boozy chorus of "sing along with the sad song / sing along, sing along" - seems to deliver a knowing wink or two to Middleton's built-in fanbase of listeners willing to surrender to a weepy melody (and yeah, that includes me). "And now we're all listening to downbeat shite / we over-did the good times, now we can't sleep at night," he observes with at least one corner of his ever-astute tongue planted firmly in cheek.

The follow-up, "Total Belief," could be considered an answer-song of sorts: here, Middleton appears to take the snarky commentary of "Blue Plastic Bags" and answers back with the taunt, "You want sad? I'll give you sad!" Over a fluid Nick Drake-meets-Elliott Smith acoustic guitar backdrop, he unleashes an avalanche of self-loathing which is so over-the-top that to consider it anything but a lark is too painful to contemplate. My favorite line: "I can't even cook a meal without falling into stress / It only takes some pasta to remind me of the depth/ of my unworthiness." Tell me it isn't true, Malcolm.

Then there are the cover songs. Unfamiliar with the original version, I cannot speak for Middleton's take of Jackson C. Frank's "Just Like Anything," other than the fact that it's so effectively done that I was certain it was a Middleton composition. His approach to fellow Scottish indie-folkie King Creosote's "Marguerita Red" - a heartbreaking ballad previously discussed here, back on December 10, 2007 - is a joy to behold, having overhauled the lip-bitingly poignant break-up song into a jaunty, drum-rolling clatter powered by the Appalachian ring-a-ling of banjo.

The cover certain to get the most notice, however, is his remodel of Madonna's 1984 Like a Virgin closer "Stay." Stripping away the synths and inserting in their place a graceful bed of simply strummed acoustic guitars, delicate strings, and understated piano, Middleton completely makes the song over in his own, considerably more somber image - and it works spectacularly. When he delivers the line, "True love is so hard to find," it becomes nearly impossible to remember the Madge of yesteryear ever uttering those words in the first place. Hmm, maybe she should now revisit the song herself?