The first impressions, however, are not good. The album opens with Sweaty, a difficult track based around a hard electronic riff. Chocolate Raspberry Lemon & Lime does little else but introduce Muscles' weird, yelping vocal whines. But then something amazing happens - and with the triplet of Ice Cream, Jerk, and One Inch Badge Pin, Guns Babes Lemonade finds its feet, puts its favourite dancing shoes on, and fucking goes for it.

Recent single Ice Cream laments modern urban confrontation. "You could have a knife, stab me in the gut, bleeding on the floor, should've kept my mouth shut" is the lyric over shimmering, glitzy dance pop, with a synth bass so big and electronic drums so finely sculpted, it is hard not to be impressed.

Jerk continues in the same vein, with squealing synths and smart breakdowns, before the excellent One Inch Badge Pin steals the thunder with irresistible drum patterning and a chorus that heartbreakingly moans, "Drive a one inch badge pin through my heart". Poor Muscles is sad.

Do not be misled by talk of synths and electronic drums though, this is no hard house or electro mayhem or clubland bollocks. Muscles has crafted a unique sound of the ilk I've never heard before, and the album sticks to the formula religiously, but still carries intriguing variation in the songs. It's glitzy dance pop, and it's very good, the songs intelligently structured.

Muscles' vocal delivery is a big part of this album. The way he layers up several takes of his voice makes for an effect that is at first annoying, but soon wins over its listener and is utterly compulsive. Further, he punctuates his songs with enough "woo"s and "aaah"s to make you dizzy (see Ice Cream or Lauren From Glebe). And with Muscles' unique, and comical view on sweets, girls, modern love, party management and myriad other topics, Guns Babes Lemonade is an enjoyable listen.

Other highlights include The Lake, which darkens the mood and is beautifully structured, sounding like Erasure going to a rave. Marshmallow and Futurekidz let the album down slightly, the latter sound like Kylie Minogue out on a date with Goldfrapp. I'm not joking.

All is redeemed with the fantastic closer, Hey Muscles I Love You: happy-go-lucky, throw away pop which shouts, "Hey Muscles, I love you, I wanna have your babies", by which time the revelation has hit that yeah, you do love Muscles, and yeah, fuck it, you will have his babies.

Guns Babes Lemonade is original, lovable, very cool, very danceable synth pop, as likely to appeal as electro lovers as indie girls and boys. At times it's hard to listen to, and there are a few dodgy tracks, but for a debut album that is so creative it is testament to the fact that Muscles is at the top of his game. Listen to it, get pissed to it, dance to it, fall in love with it. Muscles muscles his way to your heart effortlessly. Hey Muscles, I love you!

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