In a previous life, this trio of musicians made music which brilliantly walked the line between pop melodics and hooks on one side, and rock weight and swagger on the other. It is great to see that in their new guise, they have lost none of that ability. Damn The Wolves, their eponymous first release, is an intelligent blend of the two, as infectious to the pop-picker as it will be to the dyed-in-the-denim rocker.

The song displays vital punch but is matched with an equal amount of poise. It is anthemic yet accessible. Its effortless groove makes its presence felt through the rock landscape as efficiently as it carves its name on the more discerning alternative dance floors. It is certainly addictive enough to drag even the most ardent wallflowers onto the dance floor, to cut a rug, wig out, throw a few shapes or whatever it is the kids are doing today in those sorts of clubs.

And, best of all, it reminds me in no uncertain terms of that music demigod himself, Tom Petty (we are not worthy, we are not worthy), and anyone who can do that will definitely be received with open arms by the more discerning music aficionados.

What a calling card, what a great song and what a future lies ahead of them.

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Musician, scribbler, historian, gnostic, seeker of enlightenment, asker of the wrong questions, delver into the lost archives, fugitive from the law of averages, blogger, quantum spanner, left footed traveller, music journalist, zenarchist, freelance writer, reviewer and gemini. People have woken up to worse.

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