It is a (facetious) rule of thumb that any album with a title longer than six words is to be immediately viewed with suspicion.

Too much whimsical waffle in the title can sometimes transfer across to the songs, thereby undermining not only the listening experience but also the intent of the artist. Songwriter Darwin Deez, from New York via North Carolina, may have erratic talent coursing through his veins but he appears to have transcended his songwriting origins (in 2007 he spent a year attending weekly open mic nights in NYC's East Village Sidewalk Cafe, a pivotal breeding ground for the city's anti-folk scenesters such as Moldy Peaches and Regina Spektor) by checking out the pop music legacy of others less fanciful.

Spektor's often astonishing songs remain a touchstone, however, as does the work of Fountains of Wayne, yet when Deez pitches tone and words correctly (as on The World's Best Kisser, Queen of Spades, All My Friends) he can knock those two, and more, out of the park. Smarty pants.