Is your default response to a band who pride themselves on being mysterious, 'Oh, here we go again - all that theatrics is just covering up music that's nothing to write home about'? In that case, you're probably ready to give Londoners Fair Ohs a wide berth. Despite their debut, Everything is Dancing|, being quite an eye-opening record, they haven't suddenly dropped the veil and gone, 'Look, this is us!'. All we know of the trio is their first names; biographical details be damned - it's their music that matters most, and here is an album that makes the listener wonder how long more Eddy, Joe and Matt can keep that air of mystery up. Jungle Cats is every bit as inventive as their last outing, with the trio prepared to utilise everything but the kitchen sink in getting their brand of exotic punk across. This is a big and breezy-sounding album which will come with the inevitable comparisons to Vampire Weekend (which happen to be mostly, if not completely, off-base), and there's a strong whiff of early Foals on the chaotic-sounding 'Citric Placid', but Fair Ohs are definitely ploughing their own furrow.

The staccato blasts of guitar and inspired drumming of 'Green Apple Milk' open the album which immediately sets out to be more ambitious than its predecessor. The band play havoc with expectations throughout, but there are some moments on the opener which will leave the listener shaking their head in disbelief. How do 3-part saxophone harmonies and a psychedelic desert-rock coda find a place within the same song? I'm not entirely sure myself, but Fair Ohs pull it off with ease - and that's literally just the beginning. A reworked version of last year's 'Mayan Flex' is a slice of Afrobeat-inspired pop which will get hips shaking up and down the country, while the slick call-and-response approach of 'Sleep' is expertly executed, its chorus summing up the party atmosphere of the album nicely. "I won't go to sleep, no way, no way" - these three definitely sound like they'd prefer to stay up past dawn, all right, and the best thing about their new record is that there isn't a comedown in sight.

The gritty production fits with their punk aesthetic quite well; while some may call certain parts of the record under-produced (indeed, penultimate track 'Salt Flats' is great as it is, but it stands out as the most anthemic moment on the album, and could maybe use a little more polish as a result), it certainly works in their favour, and the celebratory swansong of 'Mountain Bombs' - which is an upbeat song despite its title - closes the album with aplomb, the euphoric rush of the false ending/final chorus combination sealing the deal nicely. There are plenty of bands like this, ones who make songs so infectious they should be deemed a health hazard, but there aren't many who can accomplish that with the sort of musical chops that Fair Ohs have. Jungle Cats is a spirited return for the band - and perhaps even better than what came before.