Melbourne purveyors of scrapheap garage rock King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard kickstart their debut longplayer, 12 Bar Bruise, in the perfect fashion – silence and some scratchy background sounds, a solitary guitar strum, then a deluge of frenzied noise. Elbow is the right name for it, an explosion of scattershot rock that's burnt into the seven-piece's DNA, and this fevered shambolism permeates this entire brilliant album.

Muckraker swings between Tim Rogers-penned pop rock and frenetic punk fare, creating an idiosyncratic song that never sits still and is infinitely disarming. Nein leads into a psychedelic side-street, using krautrock rhythms and warbling guitars whilst speeding up rhythm in a charging chant of numbers. The vocals are high-pitched and kept in the background for the swinging punk dirge of the title track, yet when the maniacal warble and howl of Stu Mackenzie comes into play on tracks like the playful-yet-urgent Garage Liddiard (complete with harmonica solos) and Bloody Ripper, things get real. Meanwhile the bizarre is never too far away, especially in the Morricone-inspired Sam Cherry's Last Shot, with Ambrose Smith's father Broderick reading an excerpt about the titular gunslinger over the top like a Western audiobook. High Hopes Low is a rollicking futuristic rockabilly racket, and whilst Cut Throat Boogie is more straightahead, rusted unhinged punk rock, the shambolic nature of Uh Oh I Called Mum (a Jim Carroll-mimicking track about a misguided phone call to the parentals during a substance-fuelled 'episode' at Meredith Music Festival) and Footy Footy (a frantic roll call of AFL 'legends') keeps everything suitably loose.

12 Bar Bruise is a bloody great record from a bloody great band.