As supergroups go, Diamond Rugs are one of the more conspicuous. Comprising members of Deer Tick, Black Lips, Los Lobos, Dead Confederate and Six Finger Satellite they touch as many rock 'n' roll bases as possible. There are elements of Springstein on 'Call Girl Blues'; the remarkable resemblance of Orbison and Cash on 'Totally Lonely'; 'Country Mile' which echoes early White Stripes, whilst 'Hungover and Horny' is indeed the hungover equivalent of 'Born To Be Wild' with an incredibly familiar opening guitar line.

So that all sounds great, right? Well...

While the simple aesthetic of a blues rock 'n' roll throwdown, carrying typical motifs of slide steel, harp and brass, may sound appealing for a track or two, what we discover from further listening is that this is more of a project that highlights inept lyrical vanity and shallow, clichéd concepts. Perhaps the idea of an indie record charting the history of rock 'n' roll didn’t seem so banal. And it must be said that this is an entirely straight-faced and genuine release, despite the desperately clichéd flaws which add more than a hint of parody to its impression. To repeat, this is not a parody - if it were it would be a very good one.

Quite clearly the approach and ideology of these musicians is heavily bound by the post-1970s rock 'n' roll dream of booze, drugs and sex. Trouble is it's beyond over-worked at this point, and quite simply dull. It's an aesthetic which would have been irrelevant thirty years ago, with laments of self-destruction relying upon archaisms such as 'babe' (referring to a baby, not a partner) and bafflingly lazy lyrical similies like "hard as a rock."

There's a certain appeal in the 'plug-in and play' attitude which pervades, with pleasant jangles of jaunty rockers that serves as a documentation of the protagonists existence rather than anything less shallow. They pay homage to the mentioned references and express a carefree epithet which fits snugly into the rock manifesto. Like how they fit snugly into their comfort zone that leaves them (and the listener) barely conscious (there's a similie). The pounding rhythm could indeed be described as hypnotic were its anaesthetic quality not simply a bore.

Perhaps, Diamond Rugs represents precisely what they are and it's as simple as that. The easiest thing to play when your sleep deprived, hungover; high; about to vomit, is what you know best – i.e. what's convenient. In that sense, maybe this record is a genuine documentation of that. But why then cross yet another cliché box by including a slow ballad to display the 'softer side' to these roughnecks, called 'Christmas in a Chinese Restaurant; which of course tackles the usual "I fucked up, I’m sorry" disingenuous sentimental bullshit. The idea that after thirteen self-obsessed regurgitations of the same idea and wasted lyrics we should all of a sudden believe what has been belligerently discarded before, is nonsense. Take the classic example from 'Tell Me Why', "I got the sweet things in my mouth, I swallow them and then I shit them out," baffling of course, but astonishingly worthless; or how about the reliance upon a lazy "like they always say" on 'I Took Note'. What could be less expressive than an abstract 'they' immersed in an empty cliché?

Other pearls of lyrical wisdom (or should that be pearl necklace in their world?) comes from the aforementioned 'Hungover and Horny' in the form of "Hungover and horny, too sick to call. I'm as hard as a rock, I should be having a ball," and, "if she don't come home I won't come at all." Glazing over the misogynist subtext for lack of any intellectual engagement in the record, we find a collection of songs convulsing and asphyxiating from its own clichéd arrogance. In the year of 'the return of guitar music', supposedly (another dull debate), what this record tells us about rock 'n' roll is pretty desperate. If anything, it shows that the kind of regressive, sentimental attitude which encourages band reformation and pleads for a return of indie supremacy needs to embrace change instead. Do we want a second hand version of another generation's music? If this is any evidence, absolutely not.