Label: Zelazowa (unsigned) Released: January 17 2009 Website: www.myspace.com/zelazowa and www.zelazowa.com Grungy, fuzz infused post-rock (Can we call it Gruzz-Prock ma, can we can we can we?) is the order of the day here, and I'll have two to go please. I can't help but think to myself that vox dealer Bryan Weber sounds like the bastard love-child of the Hell Is For Heroes vocalist Justin Schlosberg and the newly democratic (and Chinese, apparently) Mr. Rose.  Zelazowa, named after Chopin's town of birth, mix up a healthy bevy of frenetic riffage and good old fashioned melodious rock'n'roll. The Myspace bio paints a picture of a hard-working, long-standing band with a tried and tested DIY ethic, and I'm inclined to believe the hype.  Elephants on a Mouse Hunt, their second full length-album starts off with bombast, announcing their presence in your ear cavities in a manner as subtle as the (quite frankly brilliant) album title.  It's as striking a start as it is divisive; however I urge you to with-hold judgment until third track You Say Love boots up.  It's passionate, catchy, and marks the moment at which the album lifts its figurative head, intent on really getting something done, the moment it hits its stride. At the risk of doing a slight disservice to the rest of the band, completed by Ian (bass), Kyle (guitar) and Terry (drums), Bryan Weber's vocals are phenomenal and the stand out feature.  Gritty without grating, varied without trying too hard and consistently surprising, his warbles and petulant trail-offs top the cake with a distinct icing.  I hesitate to suggest marmite, because it can grow on you, and I don't want to be responsible for anyone ruining a perfectly good cake by applying a marmite layer. Praise is freely given in this instance, and the critical reception of the group's previous efforts suggest a strong pedigree, but the album nevertheless suffers from the ubiquitous ailment of inconsistency.  At the height of the offering, marked by the winning streak of Boneyard and Autumn, we are borne by emboldened and melodic choruses, but there are moments of ill-advised tangents.  To illustrate, mid-point Baby Blue strays into a bizarrely grungy take on The Beatles-esque ballads and key-changes.  By no means does the track fall flat, but it seems misplaced, and is indicative of the moments where Zelazowa, instead of charging on with elephantine grace, stop to look for mice.