The Mighty Roars have been knocking round Europe spreading various yarns for a few years now. They may or may not have met when the drummer was truck-driving and the singer hitch-hiking; their guitarist may or may not have been/be an escapologist; and their manager, I would bet good money, wasn't an extra-terrestrial talent-spy looking for a female-fronted Sabbath; but given their sound it takes little off their outlandish veneer.

Daddy Oh is a sexy beast in the unlikely setting of hot, sweaty rock. You can foresee copious tangled hair flying to the feedback at gigs at Berlin Magnet Club, even the horizon of leather at the bar, but you can't help dancing like a demon. Indeed the shimmer and way with a melody points more towards the cut-glass sounds of The Raincoats and Slits rather than morose heavyweights, but the heavy rock element gives The Roars a kind of cartoon sheen to die for.

I shake myself down as it ends, heart pulsing and ears recoiling at the prospect of a debut LP.

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