Hurrah! Heads up for some heads down, unabashed jazz rock and the devil take the hindmost… Fronted by Percy Jones, who's doubtless best known for his Brand X years (bloody Phil Collins again), the band set their splendidly loud stall out with the opening, revved up ‘Call 911’, with Phelps wail and wah'ing wonderfully like an old school Allan Holdsworth. And if the music doesn't give it away, there's the odd clue in their song titles, with ‘Guns and Pussy’ being as subtle in its balls out attack as its nomenclature. Bacas holds his own against Jones's splendidly epic drums, and, just when you think it may be, well, a little indulgent, the band's NY loft scene heritage takes it into tight but dirty themes like ‘Magic Mist’. Jones, of course, with his harmonics and throaty roar remains virtuosic throughout, notably on the ominous, enormous ‘The Wow Signal’. Actually, forget the Brand X associations, this is a band with fearsome virtues of its own.