It's becoming increasingly rare to find an overtly indie band that ploughs that particular furrow with any resonance. Perhaps it's because We Cut Corners are a rare artefact in today's culture; a band who excel with punchy and caustic observations, inventive interpretations of well-known forms, and one who are refreshingly surprising.

One of the most notable aspects of their sound is that it's adequately powerful without ever becoming overcrowded. We could attribute that to the fact that they're a two-piece, but in reality there had to be a conscious choice. They could easily have overdubbed and added unnecessary tracks in recording but obviously decided against it. This presumably allows them to transfer their sound most effectively to the live arena.

The essence of a We Cut Corners track isn't an ambiguous concept. They use the form of spiky rebelliousness or gentle regret, taking to either form with aplomb. While the uptempo, heavily distorted offerings such as 'Three People' and 'The Leopard' display pithy vitriol; on the gentler lullabies when exposed by the reduced arrangement they show the kind of wit and pungent melodies which isolates their epithet from the generic genre pool from which they originate.

In particular, 'Dumb Blonde' which echoes Bright Eyes and earlier Villagers carries an understated vulnerability and self-deprecation. They broach subjects from a perspective which both entertains and strikes emotional accord, for example, "You're just a dumb blonde, but one of which I'm pretty fucking fond."

They show particular inventiveness in their lyrical style by combining a colloquial conversational manner which reveals both a fallibility and quirky character in their observations; also parodying the way in which we communicate. It's difficult not to take 'The Leopard' as a comment on the way in which we become obsessed with odd comparative phrases.

The record is a gold mine for lyrical extracts: "She makes like a lion, I'm more of a panda; more of a bystander" from 'The Leopard, and, "The greatest romances end with the minimum of fuss, you live by the sword then get hit by a bus" from 'A Pirate's Life', not to mention "You broke my heart in a two-door car.. .are you a knock-off or the real thing" from 'A Man or A Mannequin'.

This playfulness with common cliché and figures of speech have a banal quality that actually becomes charming. Despite their heavy reliance upon recognisable everyday discourse there is an undoubted conclusion that no other band could express in this way. Their style of communication through music is entirely their own, even if there are fundamentally recognisable aspects that have been worked before.

Clearly, they labour over melody and lyrical content appreciating poetic soundings, slant rhymes and assonantal qualities. Perhaps even here there could be greater precision but what resonates throughout is their assured production and arrangement. The quality is undoubtedly evident but where We Cut Corners need to expand is in their influences to become more than another indie band.

Guitar music will always owe to some predecessor or other (as will most music), but instead of ignoring that inevitability, We Cut Corners, embrace it. In essence they do all any artist can: approach life from their perspective and present it in a way which is natural to them. Today I Realised I Could Go Home Backwards contains all of the expected indie motifs from uptempo rockets to gentle lullabies, and in that sense isn't so inventive. But as an interpretation seems as true as expression can be.