The source of Fiskur's sound lies somewhere in Glasgow's rivers.

Lyrics "emerge from Ross Clark's reveries while fishing on the Kelvin. His voice strains upriver from his hometown in Clydebank, flows around rusty-edged modern corners and dwells too long in empty wine bottles. Fiskur beats against the Clyde's currents, rejoices in submitting to the river's electric rhythms, flows out to the Atlantic and becomes silver. The album is is what he calls ‘future music’, it also could be called great Caledonian bedroom pop songs with big hooks, which seem to have the great musical traditions of his city in their make up. Cold Hands, Burn Slow is the album you won’t regret buying. Earworms aplenty.