Jonathan Fire*Eater’s debut album, on paper at least, should be very good. They’ve been blessed with a brilliant name, bringing with it dangerous images of freaky circus side-show frivolity. They’ve released singles to critical acclaim and they play the kind of American slacker lo-fi considered hip in most indie circles. 

In practice though they come across as a half-arsed, musically inept Beck with fewer new ideas than the Coronation Street script writers. All they really have to offer us is a drummer who can play the same shuffle-along mid-tempo beat across 11 tracks, and a vocalist who is quite good at warbling unattractively. 

It’s quite a short album too, which is just as well, because it’s bobbins.