The Roys are a self-confessed, good old fashioned Aussie pub rock band. In pretentious indie circles there was a time when an admission like this would have made them pariahs. Several years of dirty rock n’ roll later and balls-out rock, with irony surgically (and painfully) removed, it’s not only acceptable, but actively feted by coolsie types – not that the Roys would care about what they think.

Debut long player Holus Bolus announces its unashamedly country roots with opener ‘Body Double’, replete with rock vocals hollered and yodelled over 12 bar blues and a wailing guitar. Elsewhere on the album, brothers Simon and Felix Juliff venture into boisterous, commercial-radio-friendly ZZ Top terrain. ‘Sexy Man’ is music to pick a bar-room brawl to, or advertise a car stereo – the lads do a good line in what you can only hope is ironic sleaze-swagger, complete with a group of howlin’ mamas on backing vocals. Then there are the boot-scootin’, hootenanny misfires such as ‘Clover’ and the catchy, but tragic ‘Miles.’

Thankfully, occasionally the mood shifts to an entirely more satisfying alt-country sound, which traces its lineage from Young and Parsons through to Jeff Tweedy. It’s a much better look than the knee-slapping, Republican Convention, rodeo soundtrack of the faster numbers, and proves there’s some serious song-writing talent hidden beneath the bluster and busy fretwork.

Be this as it may, The Roys do retain the taint of the vaguely daggy pub (or worse, party) band for hire – you know, the sort who will cheerfully knock out good-natured, suspiciously well-rehearsed covers of ‘My Angel is a Covergirl’ and ‘The Joker’ before the punters can say “a VB stubbie, mate” over at the bar. Make of that what you will – but there’s no shame in enthusiastic, heartfelt rock n roll, with a heavy country twang, if that’s what you’re after. And there’s plenty of that on display here.

Susanna Nelson