Some albums creep up on you, with seductive tunes and enigmatic lyrics, while others demand to be admitted into your life with clattering rhythms and grandiose gestures, like a noisy, long-lost relative. Stolen From Strangers, by Japanese arranger Jun Miyake, is your new best friend - one who drops by for tea and ends up cooking a meal. And washing up. It sounds right in any context: loud, soft, in the kitchen, while travelling, on the radio. If I had a vinyl version, it would never leave my turntable. Each track is full of delight, from the bossa-flavoured Alviverde to the schmaltzy Niji Wa Tohku. En route we get the trippy tHe heRe aNd afTer, Le Voyageur Solitaire (nu-chanson meets Bulgarian voices) and the heart-tugging 'est-ce que tu peux me voir. Whether Miyake is the new Gil Evans or merely the new Bacharach, he's made a fantastic album.