Until an in-form and much-missed Idlewild return Messiah-like to our lives then those with a penchant for shouty Scots rock will have to content themselves with releases such as this. Despite many a lazy comparison with Frightened Rabbit and Twilight Sad, all these boys really share with their compatriots is a thick tongue and a desire to impress. Jetpack's (it's easier) brand of indie-rock is expansive and comes served with a generous helping of pop appeal not at all evident however on throbbing and menacing opener `It's Thunder And It's Lightning'. Starting in the fabled lull of the storm, it then introduces Thor's own drums to an anthemic, if lyrically limited, rouser.
These boys do not sound contemporary yet sing of the modern Scotland portrayed in the ever-reliable Red Tops. This opener sings of someone `punching out my lights', `Ships With Holes Will Sink' about the inevitability of `stab wounds' and possibly about the attraction of adhesives, though this could be lost in translation. Sadly, the latter of these tracks does not capture the primal excitement of the opener, nor does `Roll Up Your Sleeves', but they both lollop along happily in safe, quiet-loud country. Later, `Short Bursts' returns to the ring fists balled for an oddly patriotic call-to-arms that will do more for Scottish solidarity than which ever sport they're losing at this weekend. All this and they have still the time to combust with the power of Explosions In The Sky at its crescendo, confirming the post-rock influences that were suggested on the bubbling interlude `A Half Built House'.
`Conductor' returns the listen to sky-cracking grandiosity, all Arcade Fire bluster fed on a diet of raw, Northerly winds and withdrawn promises of future technology. The opening, acoustic bars of this track are as close as they come to fulfilling the mostly-misplaced Frightened Rabbit analogies. `Quiet Little Voices' is an irresistible showcase of hi-hat, indie-club toe-tappin', maybe overdone with encouragable `ooh oh a ohs'. Jetpack clearly know their peers and are not afraid to borrow Biffy Clyro's neat trick of repeating memorable lines first quietly and then IN CAPITALS. That they then choose to underline these with Kings of Leon's own whoopin' and a-hollerin' on `Moving Clocks Run Slow' is all the better. Right foot followed by the left foot they sing on the opener and These Four Walls closes in a reflective mood, a one-foot-in-front-of-the-other, pensive walk home in the Scottish perma-drizzle. A walk home you'll notice. Jetpacks indeed.