Superstar is the debut full-length from Battle For Paris, and even though it's less than 30 minutes long, the band still cram in more spasmodic ideas than many of their peers will manage in an album twice that length.

The lead single, the Call Of Duty-quoting 'Mason, Blow A Hole In That Fuckin' Wall' sets out the band's blueprint perfectly, with soaring melodic vocals over a bed of angular, interweaving duel guitar leads, that suddenly devolve into thuggish, off-kilter headbanging riffs. Elsewhere, 'Here's To Swimming With Bow-Legged Women' summons the ghost of Refused, with a caustic opening salvo and moody, spoken word vocals.

Across the album, even after repeated listens, it can be difficult to predict the band's movements, as they veer between super tight, sucked-up sounding math rock bursts, and simple, screamo pounding sections. There are even quiet, acoustic moments; 'Redux' gives the listener a full minute-and-a-half of subtle vocal harmonies and gentle plucking before the band dive back into whirlwind mode. There's plenty of atonality and dissonance strewn amongst the blasting and chugging, but the tasteful, clean guitar tones let the listener savour every note.

Indeed, production is a huge aspect of what makes Superstar so enjoyable. I had the good fortune to share a stage (well, the badly carpeted floor of a pub function room) with Battle For Paris recently, and they were explosive, technically precise, incredibly loud, and to boot, gentlemen. This same aggression and precision translates perfectly in the studio, and the band showcase an impressive balancing act between sloppy punk bravado and note-perfect technicality. The bass tone, in particular, is delicious; woody, full, and percussive, it underpins the songs with a playful sense of swing.

To add to the constant sense of unease and sudden changes around every corner, the band sprinkle the album with interesting sonic experiments. Opener 'Fuck Tiger' not only boasts a fucking excellent name, but what appears to be an ambient field recording of a band member showing up to rehearsal; slowly, the distant pounding in the next room becomes the drummer thrashing away right next to your face. There's even a bizarre heartfelt-piano/comedy movie quote mashup on the penultimate track 'Aylesham'.

There's plenty to say about Superstar that marks it as an excellent debut by a British rock band finding their feet. This is not to say that everything is perfect; the vocal performances often err on the side of monotony, and a lot of the 'heavy' riffs can feel somewhat recycled. This is also an album which will probably only appeal to a fairly niche audience. The fearsome twists and turns and dissonant shredding will surely scare away casual listeners, yet the album lacks the real macho, serious heaviness that would endear it to most of the UK's hardcore and metal fans (and clearly, Battle For Paris know this).

But isn't that what UK music needs? Bands who are confident enough to make jarring, experimental albums that feature band members kissing on the cover? It seems like Battle For Paris are doing everything honest in their power to make new music for anyone brave enough to give them a chance.