Young lust and sleaze combine on the debut from The Dead Flags, a Sligo trio with a good grasp of the garage sound.

This is a solo-free zone, and from the rough-around-the-edges production to the riffs and harmonies, there is much to admire.

But while frontman Billy Fitzgerald proves he's a songwriter who can come up with a catchy tune (a lot of them, in fact), his lyrics sometimes take away from his talent, conjuring up images not of a Greg Dulli-style ladies' man but a less subtle Benny Hill.

With the craft and care that's gone into the music (the tracks could be jumbled around in any order and the record would still work), this disappointment only grows the longer you listen.

Let's hope they don't make the same mistake next time.

Harry Guerin