And so it comes to pass that the first knuckle-duster of a rock album of the year is released by a band from Dublin. Formed four years ago, Girl Band (Adam Faulkner, Daniel Fox, Dara Kiely, Alan Duggan) have taken their time to get to this point, but the truism of good things coming to those that wait can work for both sides. It also doesn’t matter that their live shows in Ireland (for which they are deservedly praised) are in short supply – a band this good can leverage respect from even the most underused gig calendar.

Much has been made of Girl Band’s influences. With touchstones such as Washington DC hardcore act Bad Brains, New York’s No Wave scenesters James Chance and the Contortions, and Britain’s Chemical Brothers and The Fall, there is firm evidence here of musicians that have checked out the majority of other Irish acts and found them lacking in grit and adventure. There really is no other Irish band around at the moment that can channel No Wave disharmony as well as Girl Band, but what distinguishes them on record, as on stage, is a subtle sense of melody that infiltrates everything they do.

Holding Hands with Jamie starts as it means to go on: Umbongo's brief guitar ripples halt momentarily before broiling drums and squalls of noise are followed by a fractured, bewildered vocal, bringing to mind the Virgin Prunes' similarly styled (and frankly deviant) way with deconstructed rock music. It's amazing, needless to say.

Paul is one of those excoriating pieces of music that make a strong claim for the validity of kicking in television sets. Texting an Alien is like Sultans of Ping gone right, and Fucking Butter is eight minutes of controlled freeform that lurches upwards and upwards until it touches the sky. Greatness, grit, gravity and gleeful – Girl Band's debut album is all of these and more. girlband.ie