We’ve been waiting for a new Feist album for a very long time. 2007’s The Reminder was unanimously voted Holy Moly’s album of the year, and that’s never happened in this office before or since (not even Robyn united our warring tastes). Nearly four and a half years later it’s with a heavy heart we must accept that Metals is not the Feist album we’ve been waiting for.

For the sake of context, let’s backtrack a little. Like most people, we first fell for Leslie Feist when we heard her 2004 single Mushaboom (the song no amount of mattress or perfume commercials could diminish). The accompanying album Let It Die was nice, but barely hinted at the expansive beauty and irresistible melodic charm that was to come.

Let It Die wasn’t Feist’s first album, though. Locked in metaphorical musical orphanage is 1999’s Monarch (Lay Your Jewelled Head Down). No longer available via legitimate sources, Ms Feist appears to have rejected it completely, preferring to pretend it doesn’t exist. But for all its naiveté, Monarch is a far more satisfying and enjoyable collection of songs than 2011’s Metals - precisely because it is a collection of songs.

Because try as we might (we’ve been listening to Metals repeatedly, in a variety of situations, in the hope of some breakthrough before we had to write this) we’re struggling to find the delicate yet definite tunes that ensured The Reminder stayed as fresh as white sheets on a washing line, no matter how many times we played it.

So what do we get? Well, we get a lot of – the same. The same kind of slow, atmospheric, blues rock tinged pieces in search of a lyrical hook which, when found, gets repeated over and over again. This is a perky pop free zone.

It’s not that Metals doesn’t sound like Feist. Despite the prominence of guitar, the musical palette and recording process remain largely unchanged, and her voice is still one of the most gorgeously expressive instruments currently residing in a larynx.

Neither are we prepared to call this a bad album. Opening song The Bad In Each Other - a realistic take on romance set to a loping, woozy waltz – pulls off its Elbow-sized ambitions with ease. The Circle Married The Line has a sweetness that wouldn’t be out of place on her banished debut. Little Bird unfurls beautifully in that echoey space of voice and una corda piano that’s become the Feist/Gonzales trademark, and first single How Come You Never Come Here takes her earlier, nursery rhyme melodies for a walk down a darker street (none of these songs will end up on Sesame).

It’s all intrinsically Feisty, but it’s just so damn slow. Metals demands patience, but even then we’re not sure it delivers enough of a reward. We’ll persevere.

Feist – Metals is out now

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