There’s something wrong, rotten even, with the reservoir water down Nashville way these days – someone, somewhere, dumped a trafficker’s cargo so as to avoid police detainment, and now the tap-sucking kids are totally wired. Turbocharged teens Be Your Own PET have bottled it up and taken it on a field trip to the grimy alleys of NYC, around the back of CBGB’s at kick out time after some seventies punk extravaganza. Leather, big hair, low-slung axes and bucket upon bucket of adrenaline and booze.

‘Let’s Get Sandy (Big Problem)’ lasts for under a minute but bullets past the listener in what feels like a matter of single-figure seconds. It’s breakneck throughout – no real hook, no poptastic key change – and is as trashily brilliant as the earliest and most endearing records Yeah Yeah Yeahs have produced to date. Vocalist Jemina rasps like a rebellious kid told to go to bed without supper – straight up the stairs and out again down the drainpipe – while her band mates smack the shit out of everything in front of them as if they never needed them again. This moment is everything, what happens tomorrow we deal with then, ears still stinging and fingers bloody.

Young, dumb and full of the violent energy of a hundred ASBO-rockin’ pre-teen terrorists, Be Your Own PET’s rawness is every bit as refreshing, as exciting, as the epic indie that’s attracted plaudits this year and last – Broken Social Scene, Wolf Parade, et cetera. Where they enchant, this enrages. Its innocent simplicity is its uniqueness, its infectiousness as sweet as single malt through a drip.