This hasn't received much attention from UK critics - just the odd grudging 3-star review. The suspicion is that the band are being pre-judged on account of the received wisdom about underperforming debut Cuts Across the Land. On the evidence of this new release they must be wondering just how good they have to be to be to get a proper hearing, because Neptune is a blinding album.
The dense, powerful sound is still there, driven by thumping drums and buzzing guitar. Their energy was never in doubt, but now it's harnessed to songs crammed full of killer hooks. Singer Liela Moss delivers them in a compelling voice that ranges from cut-glass precision to rock-chick slur. Her accent has a suggestion of posh English, with hints of Cockney and a dash of West Country: 'on' is 'awn' and 'life' becomes 'loyfe'.
The lyrics are full of the sea, but the music suggests that it dried up a million years ago. This is desert rock, hot, bright and dry like the arid piano and abrasive, dehydrated harmonica that stalk the sparse and magnificent Dog Roses. Much of the album has a parched intensity that's difficult to resist.