US Weekly have been lavished with faint/qualified praise from persons who think words like “young”, “interesting”, “Austin” and “underground” are in any way evocative of something worthy of your valuable time. Let’s be very clear about this — the quartet in question isn’t merely interesting, they’re nothing short of fascinating, a collision of parts-shouldn’t-fit influences with the end result being more akin to a spectacular montage than a car wreck. Stylistically, they’re nobody’s idea of a prototypical Austin band (punk or otherwise), but if your local retailer wants to establish a bin marked “smart pop experiments that totally work”, I wish them lots of luck finding other records nearly this good to fill the space. A debut album this audacious yet artifice-free is pretty goddamn rare; whatever magician is responsible for accurately translating US Weekly’s wild onstage chemistry to the studio deserves a Merlin Awards (TM) trophy. Or perhaps something similar from a body devoted to recorded music, if one’s ever formed (though it seems a little late a in the day for that).