There's something idiosyncratic about the way Happy Jawbone Family Band work. Baring in mind they're on their third full-length effort, for this new record, Tastes The Broom the Brattleboro, US-based group whittled five years of cassettes, LPs, singles and a massive one-hundred track list of new songs down to nine.

Ah, but those tin-can splintering guitars and that distorted vocal; this one will have you in thirty seconds. There's nothing fragmented about this piece, and in that constraint you're left with a sonic explosion of distorted frenzy, moulded by the cyclical nature of the simplistic drums. With carefree loveless lyrics spurted in the direction of the sky, 'Now Everybody Rock Like You Got AIDS' is an intelligent bastion.

Tastes The Broom sits you on its railroad as it is being built. The group are so unconcerned about their contemporaries that you're able to let go and allow the screeching violins of 'Fireflies Made Out Of Dust' push you in any direction. It might seem shallow, but the dynamic nature of the instrumentation throughout the record is something truly defining.

The transitional period of the record arrives with 'At the Hotel Double Tragedy' and 'Fistful of Butter'. Joined by the hip, their hand patted rhythms and close-harmony introduces an incandescent aesthetic that creates an atmosphere of trust and ease between you and the dawdling storytelling. Dour vocal patterns with repetitive reprieves appear throughout the album but there's something striking about 'There is Too Much Blood in the Attic Tonight'. That expressive bass line pits itself softly against the glockenspiel and guitar hinges of the piece and as a result, the rusty-tongued mantra "it's not right" becomes melancholic.

"You know that you'll never last all of that wind/it's a cruel, cruel wind." 'Book Of Fire' has a determination to its centre which isn't replicated elsewhere; it might just be my favourite song on the album - those vocals are wonderful. The production of the record is paramount in terms of the piece's identity and it's where consistency is found. Whilst transients are respected, the whole thing is very squeezed and thin in its sound. Comparisons may be drawn to The Velvet Underground and the lo-fidelity quality of that era.

Tastes The Broom has mood pieces periodically in its lifeline, but what's remarkable about that is the diversity in which they take form. Some speak loneliness whilst the next depicts a playful conversation between friends; yet as silly as it sounds, they scream subtlety. 'The Cruel Thimbleful' works as a perfect example: dictated by that strophic nature, it is articulated by staccato bells and articulated by strums of autoharp.

Whilst we're all embarrassingly yet to fall out of love with the records that talked us through a first kiss or serenaded one of many unfulfilling arguments, it's often frustrating trying to establish that same level of emotional connection with new releases, however the incessant layers of honesty on this record shows a different kind of beauty, and will no doubt have you falling in love all over again.