Head here to submit your own review of this album.

Bursting with tight, frantic, post-punk fire and jittery, art school outsiderness, Sauna Youth can't help but generate the feel of a long lost John Peel Session from the early eighties. Angular guitars rage and spasm at every turn, shouty rants punch hard, spoken word poems unsettle and the spirit of DIY empowerment reigns large. "Tremendous stuff" would likely have been old Peely's response to it all.

Long championed by Marc Riley and a key part of East London's garage punk scene, Jen Calleja (vocals, synths), Richard Phoenix (vocals, drums), Lindsay Corstorphine (guitar) and Christopher Murphy (bass) first raised a stir with debut Dreamlands back in 2012, before swapping instruments around and kicking out a slightly more grizzly, unhinged growl as their alter-ego band Monotony. With each member also involved in numerous other groups and art projects, they now return as a typically rampant and surprisingly united force on new album Distractions.

Lead track 'Transmitters' is the storming centre piece of it all, racing along to jerky, Wilko Johnson guitar chops and a bouncy, rabid intensity, before bursting out in a clatter of garage-esque whirrs and screeches. Like David Byrne at his most manic and surreal, you don't quite know what the duel vocals of Calleja and Phoenix are barking on about, but still by the end of it all they have you in mad fever, running furiously on the spot and pogoing like a deranged jack-in-the-box.

The urgent, anxious energy continues on the blistering 'Cosmos Seeker' and the snotty, snarling 'Leather', whilst 'Abstract Notions' sounds like a convention of librarians hearing The Ramones for the first time. 'Try To Leave' too stands out as a careening piece of razor-edged, two-minute, guitar pop that pitches escapist dreams against a wall of noisy, pulse quickening sprawl and comes close to turning into a spikey, new wave, Buzzcocks anthem.

The fear with some of these obtuse DIY acts is that they become too surly and elitist for their own good and end up sounding like tinny, homemade, Blue Peter-versions of Gang of Four, Wire and more obscure reference points like Suburban Lawns. Thankfully Sauna Youth are a more bristling and bruising entity, and by closer 'Creeping' they're lost in a mighty din of scorched riffs and swirling dissonance.

It's a relentless album full of short, sharp, shocks of art-punk chaos made by a group of awkward, anti-rock stars, but however strange and experimental it gets, there's still that primal joy you get with gangs of mates crashing around in sweaty basements.

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