Adam Pierce has concocted a cogitative brew, a fountain of trills 'n' thrills, that has the noisy echo of '80s New York noise bands, glimpses of the Fusion and Latin flair that transfixes the likes of Fila Brasilia and Jimpster, and the gossamery drift of Scandinavian techno-pop.

What makes this charged debut such a powerful statement is its impeccable flow. From the moment Devil In Me swaggers in like a Molotov cocktail, you know this is going to rock - hard.

Let There Be Morning may be all too familiar to some, but with its driving guitars, catchy choruses and infectious melodies, this solid effort ensures that the band is set to become a household name.

It's not all bad, but there's no getting away from the fact the main problem with this lifeless debut is Elkington's voice.

Another fine release.

There's little in the way of fire or grit here.

An unknown quantity to me before the first listen, by the third play I was already plotting which of my friends I would be lending it to and reprimanding myself for not having come across them sooner.

At times The Decemberists sail close to being an horrific hybrid of They Might Be Giants and The Coral - all arched eyebrows and accordions.