I had to go back to the CD player and check that I had put in the right disc. Instead of the fuzz heavy rock n roll I had expected, a strange bluesy howl emanated from the speakers. A slide guitar and a drum set that sounded like it was constructed out of the cardboard boxes that Special Brew swigging tramps call home.

It's the soundtrack to those Marlboro adverts that frame cowboys against vast American landscapes. It stinks of both desperation and a lack of ideas. It's a final fling, an attempt to forge a pathway from their past and into a new more profitable arena. As a musical volte face it is about as extreme as Jamie Cullum fronting Slayer, but less credible. Avoid.