Head here to submit your own review of this album.

'My boy in brackets / my girl in brackets / post-modern brackets'

Lovingly naff, long-running Geordie indie poppers Milky Wimpshake distil 22 years of gawky romanticism and social comment into something akin to a career-defining record. Just be prepared to leave your gloomy pretensions at the door.

Pete Dale is a kind of Edwyn Collins for the Alan Partridge generation, worryingly obsessed with whether or not his lascivious daydreams make him a sexual deviant or not while knocking out short, bratty pop. Encore, Un Effort! plays on all of the familiar gawk pop traits; a smattering of pigeon French on 'Le Revolution Politique', looking at attractive ladies' bottoms surreptitiously as a metaphor for the perfection of imperfection ('Ping Pong Lovers') and limpid anarcho-socialism ('Coming Soon').

Dale channels Paul Heaton in his nasal, unprecious delivery, cheerfully falling flat of anything approaching correct pitch to draw attention to his naggish lyricism. Football paean 'The Beautiful Game' tips over preconceptions of Newcastle residents' being obsessed with their mostly rubbish hometown club: "If there were three teams in this game then it would be less lame / football's a beautiful game I'm sure if you like that sort of thing / the trouble is I just don't care which team wins." The song skewers the very real, fascist urges that can still be heard echoing around many football grounds up and down the country, including overt racism and sexism. Social comment like this has become strangely lacking in modern pop rock. Shame.

But is there a place for the attendant shabbiness? The juice-addled fun comes as a breath of fresh air after living with the interminable indie-dance and epic-folk crossover aesthetic that has ruled the mainstream since the death of that gloriously crappy decade the '90s. To hear a band playing un-self-regarding pop with simple two-part harmonies and funny turns of phrase feels homely.

In keeping with the awkward, sex-obsessed aesthetic, production is sparse to the point of Zen. The whole record might have been recorded in one take if it wasn't for occasional changes in the panning of Dale's guitar and the jolts as instrument levels jump up and down. As clumsy as the scissor marks undoubtedly are, there's a certain internal logic to the philosophy espoused and the jaunty lack of polish.

If you want to peer back 20 years to what it was like when zines ruled the earth and bands wrote their own humorous descriptions of their albums, visit the band's website. There's as much collected humanity in there as alive in 100 'cataclysmic' debuts by acts that go from nowhere to headliners in less time than it takes to have your benefits sanctioned.

Milky Wimpshake are, and will always be, outsiders. If they were going to crossover, they would have done so by now. Encore, Un Effort! is probably not as good an album as 2010's My Funny Social Crime, but it's illustrative of a non-cynical, committed kind of product that can only be produced from fractured minds. The politics is defiantly anarchist, the sex defiantly unsexy. It's not Shakespeare, but in the end Love's Labours are triumphant.

This is the place you'll find reviews from 405 Readers. To join in, head here.