Hailing from the (presumably) dusty, sun-baked, plantation-chic hive of Oxford, Mississippi, Bass Drum Of Death churn out abrasive garage-rock. It's gutsy and raw, with classic punk cojones, more fuzz than a blow-dried poodle and the sonic flippancy of very early Kings Of Leon. They're not household names, no, but chances are you've heard some of their sounds: songs from debut GB City made it onto the Ghost Rider: Spirit Of Vengeance OST and they've provided tracks for H&M, Nascar and (oddly) Waterloo Road. They may sound like a DJ supergroup, but Bass Drum Of Death are southern lo-fi auteurs; this next self-titled instalment in their catalogue expands upon previous themes and intensifies their sound.

'Bad Reputation' is a chunk of Sonic Youth-lite noise-punk. The vocals from John Barrett are smothered in reverb and distortion as he howls "Bad reputation, bad reputation, bad reputation, bad reputation," ad infinitum through a poppy grin-mace. There are sawtooth pop-punk riffs, buzzing and macking with ADD percussion. Lead single 'Shattered Me' is distinctly less punky. There's a Mikal Cronin-ness to the melodic vox. Though it's blatantly built on rock foundations, it's more lo-fi SoCal surf-ness like Wavves or Best Coast than the punk of 'Bad Reputation'; it's sloppier, more amateur, looser and unpolished. It feels more real and tangible than the quantised, untarnished punk that's bounced around every now and again.

Bass Drum Of Death have drawn comparisons to The White Stripes on multiple occasions (probably due to the one-man-and-his-guitar-and-then-someone-on-drums schtick), but that fails to show itself here. The beats are more frantic, injected with oodles more oomph and are considerably more 'rocky'. Where Meg White favoured simpler, to-the-bones playing, Len Clark just pummels anything with a taut skin or brassy surface as hard and fast as possible. Barrett's vocals are less distinguished than Jack White, which is good, as you can focus on something else than just someone screeching like a congested owl. The male-r white is also probably a better guitarist; though, again, that's not always what a great song needs. Take Muse - Matt Bellamy can play fast and sing high, but that doesn't make him a good songwriter. While Barrett may not be up in rock Valhalla with Dimebag, Hendrix and Garcia, he's not at all bad performer (in fact, he's quite excellent) - but one of his finest talents is showing restraint. When a song calls for simplicity, he's quite happy to oblige instead of overloading it (though he can crack out a masterful solo if it's needed).

'Such A Bore' excretes a 60s rock'n'roll plume into the atmosphere - jangly strumming and psychadelic vocals are the main culprits for that atmosphere. Things do eventually take a psych-rock twist, with woozy acid-rock solos and accelerating rhythms inciting visions of technicolour shapes, much like a magic-eye picture. 'Crawling After You' is straight-up American indie; there's a Strokesian vibe. Barrett's words, as usual, dissolve like Berocca; you can't understand what he says half the time as they break down under the weight of pedalboard shenanigans, but the serrated howls fizz immensely, frothing against the side of rampaging guitars.

The men behind Bass Drum Of Death have spent time honing their craft between GB City and the recent self-titled effort. The former was more unkempt and uneven, but now Barrett and Clark are firmly in control of the reigns, proudly proffering raucous guitar-pop and hazy lo-fi punk-rock. There's a sharper focus on making proper tunes, at which they succeed – there are many tracks on this record that make you sit up and pay attention - which is achieved through a fuller texture and less sparseness. It's a fun LP, rife with wild garage cuts that would splendidly soundtrack the kind of parties that are so awesome they get busted by the po-po.