Halfway through Ball Park Music's second record, Museum, an effort appearing barely a year since their breakthrough debut, Happiness And Surrounding Suburbs, main man Sam Cromack makes an astonishingly honest admission. All he's trying to do, he says, is “be a legitimate source of excitement and a sponge to how you all feel”. With that, down comes the fourth wall between writer and audience. Cooler than thou songwriters aren't supposed to show this level of self-awareness, but Cromack is far from cool. In fact, he ends the song (Cry With One Eye) by letting us know that “he's got no fucking heart”. Lyrically, the wiry lead singer spends the majority of Museum playing two different roles. He's either trying his level best not to give a shit (often openly stating so) or he's sitting slumped at the bar wondering just how he got himself into the kind of situation that threatens to make him the disaffected voice of Australia's mid-20s i-generation. Maybe that's hard work for him, but it's a total pleasure for us.

Kicking off with the bombastic Fence Sitter – the reference meter goes immediately into the red as Cromack bemoans his inability to properly converse with an intimidating Kimbra on then recent Groovin' The Moo tour. Not stopping there, sublime single, Surrender, features a verse inspired by a recent dream about Megan Washington. Musically, it's all great fun as Ball Park Music move from nutbag pop (Bad Taste Blues Part 1) to stunning piano balladry (Coming Down) in the blink of an eye. The band uses their kitchen sink approach to provide colourful and tasteful accompaniment to Cromack's Thom Yorke-esque croon. In equal measure off the chain and beautifully studied, Museum is uniformly brilliant. It also probably marks the first album to feature the phrase “piece of piss”. Top marks.