OK, lets get the facts out of the way first; The Bronx recorded their album The Bronx in a converted methadone clinic into a microphone that Hitler once used, and they have song titles like Shitty Future, Transsexual Blackout and Rape Zombie.

Still with us? Bloody hell, you're doing well. Consider that first paragraph a test, because once you've waded through The Bronx's – let's face it – pretty tedious attempts at being different and scary, you'll be presented with an album of pure stripped-down energy that you'd be a fool to ignore.

The Bronx seem to revel in testing their audience – to even listen to their album The Bronx you have to overcome their methadone/Hitler recording process and do your best to ignore their ridiculously over the top song titles, and then when you do slip The Bronx on, the first two songs – Senor Hombre De Tamale and Small Stone are both all but unlistenable; one is a minute of nondescript tuning-up and the other a minute of screaming. If you can manage to navigate through all that, then a) you're made of sterner stuff than we thought and b) you're ready to find the thumpingly great – and tuneful – rock album that is The Bronx by The Bronx.

We're going to ignore those first two tracks – because they're shit – but when the album proper gets going, the first thing that hits you about The Bronx by The Bronx is the immediacy and vitality of it. It comes as no surprise to discover that the basic tracks of The Bronx were all recorded live, since the band have expertly managed to capture the power of a live show. The whole thing crackles with taut energy, which occasional miss-hits and off notes all add to. And The Bronx waste nothing, either – songs come in, do their job and leave. There are no drum solos or elongated outros present here, and that's something we couldn't be happier about.

But what of the songs? You may have been lucky enough to catch new single History's Stranglers on the radio recently. You know it, it's the one that goes "You motherFUCKAHHHH! I want your BLOOOOOOOOOD!" No? Oh well, never mind. Apart from that frankly antisocial outburst, History's Stranglers is a stone-cold slab of pounding glam-rock At The Drive In power that grabs you hard and refuses to let go. And it's just one of the tunes of The Bronx that manages to pull this trick off. Shitty Future is so aerodynamic and self-propelled that it'd be a great single – if it didn't happen to be called Shitty Future, of course. Ocean's Of Glass manages to slip a genuinely anthemic chorus into proceedings. Transsexual Blackout is all snotty snarl and arrogant strut. When The Bronx hit their stride, it's certainly spine-tingling stuff.

The Bronx by The Bronx has its fair share of duffers, too. Rape Zombie is about as good as you'd expect a song called Rape Zombie to be, Three Dead Sisters is just gratuitous 'look, we're in a methadone clinic' angst, and the relentless onslaught of rawk does wear you out a little, even on a 33-minute track like this. However, in true Bronx style, anyone who makes the distance is rewarded with White Guilt, a proper balls-out radio-friendly pop song about an "L.A. laaaadeh!" that's easily the best thing that The Bronx come up with on The Bronx.

The Bronx, then. They really don't want you to like them, but we're not sure you'll be able to help it. Motherfukahh.

Now Buy The Bronx by The Bronx from Amazon

[story by Stuart Heritage]