For Dan Sartain's considerable cult following, the release of this collection of rarities, outtakes and unreleased material, as an accompaniment to his 2010 album Sartain Lives, is all their birthdays and Christmases come at once. Offering up 21 tracks of the kind of frenetic rockabilly they have grown to love, with raw "recorded in your mum's basement" production values, scratchy punk guitars and frenetic beats, Legacy of Hospitality illustrates Sartain's musical development over the years beginning in 1999, a full 2 years before the release of his debut album Crimson Guard in 2001. Those less familiar with his back catalogue may find this album a little testing at times but if it's hummable tunes you want then stick to Coldplay. If, however, it's fuzzy guitars, crashing drums and 2 minute dirty rock gems you're after then look no further.

Veering from the angry rant of 'I Don't Wanna Go To The Party' to the jaunty folkism and animal cries of 'The Hungry End', what becomes clear early on is that Sartain has been thrashing an impressive swathe through the spiky undergrowth of the rockabilly/garage rock scene for a decade now, regardless of commercial trends or what's deemed "cool" (which of course means he inadvertently oozes "coolness"). A lo fi cover of the T Rex track 'Telegram Sam' has Sartain sounding like the love child of Marc Bolan and Lux Interior of The Cramps (that's one frightening looking offspring) with the ponderous and rather lovely 'Mister Moonlight' proving that he is more than just a paint by numbers guitar riff devotee. As the album progresses so his music influences broaden. In the latter half of the album we are treated to a maraca led bossanova of sorts in 'Flight Of The Finch', and its accompanying b-side, the fuzzy acoustic latin ditty 'Besame Muchos' followed swiftly by the Dylan-esque harmonica heavy 'Strength In Numbers', demonstrating that Sartain not only has a wry sense of musical humour, but that he also isn't afraid to disappear off on a tangent should the muse take him. 'Box Cutter In My Boot', for example, is a thick slice of messy delta blues, if said delta blues were recorded in a toilet cubicle, and it's brilliant. Not being a die hard collector of all things Sartain, this reviewer is very aware that there are probably rarities on this album enough to make dedicated completists cry tears of joy, but even the unversed can appreciate the value of this retrospective.

It comes as no surprise that garage rock overlord Jack White has sniffed around Sartain in the past and in the main he follows the two and a half minute track template of early White Stripes making for a fast moving and exhilarating experience. In short, this holy grail of collections is not only a gift to the fan base, but also a brilliant introduction for the uninitiated to one of the most fearless, varied and overlooked rock aficionados of the past decade. A legacy to be proud of.