Dead Sons exist in a yowling alternate universe where the Arctic Monkeys have been remade as a gore filled B movie splatter fest rampaging through a drug brothel. Delivered in a Sheffield snarl that owes more than a touch to Alex Turner, I can’t tell whether the lyrics on the aptly titled debut The Hollers and The Hymns are taking the piss or not…. Whichever way, they’re incredibly entertaining.

“You be Frankenstein// I’ll be Halloween// Shotgun woman// Blow me to smithereens” they swagger on the ridiculous road house garage number Shotgun Woman. And this is pretty much par for the course; bludgeoning, Queens of the Stone Age riffs dredged from imagined Arizona titty bars and greasy biker gang balls; lyrics that talk cocaine, sex, death and destruction; and lashings of good ol’ fashioned Rock n Roll. The crown Dead Sons are going for still belongs to the legendary 80s Matchbox B Line Disaster, and whilst this debut doesn’t quite match up to the output of those sleaze rock titans (as of yet…), they’ve made a more than decent mark.

If they can avoid falling prey to the temptations they love to sing about, and keep on interspersing their wilder thrash outs with moments of surprisingly deft balladry – as on the excellent Temptation Pool that bisects this album, then they look likely to turn into something really special. Well worth checking out. 7/10