There are certain bands we will always love because they remind us of our teen years. No matter how much we grow into an appreciation of jazz, or the complexities of a symphony, that first flush of musical passion will always illicit a little nostalgic thrill. For me, nothing can beat a bit of At The Drive-In, Hot Water Music, Pennywise and although it pains and embarrasses me to say it, Linkin Park. All my critical faculties fly out of the window when I hear their music, as I'm transported back into the body of a 17-year old boy, dancing like a twat at the Corporation club in Sheffield and loving it. Damiera, I strongly suspect, have very similar nostalgic touchstones. Their album rushes breathlessly through constant references to the mid to late 1990's 'alternative' scene; the anthemic choruses and speed of pop-punk; the intricate, textural guitars of still respectable, early 'emo'; the slightly confrontational vocals of nu-metal, it's all here and in abundance. 'Nailbiter,' for example, could have been a song cut from In/Casino/Out for being too easy on the ears. Surprisingly though, they manage somehow to avoid making it derivative. 'Quiet Mouth Loud Hands' has a Tool-lite verse and a chorus that cheesy so-cal punks Lit could have penned, but by combining them with such enthusiasm, and by adding interesting tics like the doo-wop backing vocals on the bridge, Damiera make it into a joyous whole. It's an absolute cracker of a track. At this point my inner, po-faced, broadsheet newspaper critic starts screaming at me. How can I actually enjoy this, with all the shameful, obvious influences and cringe worthy, youthful excitement? Well, I have to say I tried. I really wanted to dislike Damiera and dismiss them with the rest of their Kerrang! sponsored ilk. But it's so catchy and energetic, and taps so perfectly into that nostalgic pleasure zone, that I cannot help but enjoy it. They seem willing to try something different as well. 'Teacher, Preacher' sounds like the Backstreet Boys covering a Green Day song. It's practically R'n'B for crying out loud. 'Woodbox,' as well, is unusual, all weaving classical guitar and tactile percussion, sequenced into a groovy instrumental. Both songs are highlights. There are, of course, lulls here as well, songs that don't catch the ear as well as others, that blend into the general morass of the album. And even the most forgiving of listeners will surely snigger at the Fred Durst-like vocal sneers that sometimes intrude. But, even though they steal from a million sources, Damiera, with instinct and playfulness, make it all come together with impressive skill.