He’s recorded as Zoo Kid, as King Krule, and under his own name. Archy Marshall doesn’t star in his own music—he wanders through it. Listening to the London singer-songwriter’s music sometimes feels like waiting for a sea creature to surface: We only ever catch furtive glimpses of him before he disappears again. The OOZ feels like a piloted journey deep, deep into suffocating loneliness. The sound is tarry, warm, wet: Overwhelming bass lines, the kind that make you aware of the screws in your subwoofers, lurk beneath trebly keyboard chords with flecks of jazz harmonies embedded in them, like glass shards in a carpet. Down here, genre boundaries blur or disappear, so depending on the angle you approach The OOZ, you will find yourself listening to a trip-hop record, a dub record, to punk rock, to tender jazz balladry, or watery R&B. The guitars, slightly out of tune strummed hard and imperfectly, are back in the mix for the first time since 6 Feet Beneath the Moon. Whatever the case, The OOZ is the richest and most immersive album he’s made yet, under any name, by some distance.