Between Best Fit’s own Ones to Watch list and the BBC’s Sound of 2013 poll last December, the long-awaited debut album from Irish five-piece Little Green Cars wasn’t likely to take people by surprise. Knockout Stateside sets at SXSW and Coachella, not to mention a spot on the Jimmy Fallon show, all contributed to high hopes east and west of Dublin. Absolute Zero sets off apace in chasing expectations.

‘Harper Lee’ strikes quickly and slickly, driven by the staccato drama of guitar and drums, the better to frame the quintet’s abundantly pleasing harmonies. It’s a catchy and forceful salvo of slightly skewed indie pop that sounds impressively fully-formed and feels curiously not unlike the first hearing of ‘Little Lion Man’, or ‘Dog Days Are Over’.

That they are still only 20 is easy to overlook, veiled by polished production and somewhat weary themes. The cornerstone comparison is perhaps to Mumford & Sons – although Stevie Appleby’s lead vocals are a little more Ben Bridwell than Marcus Mumford, while O’Rourke draws worthy comparison to Florence Welch. Absolute Zero might not be breaking new ground, but the band still reap the rewards of raising their heads and eyeballing their influences.

‘The Consequences of Not Sleeping’, tender and lyrical, sounds like a Johnny Flynn song being slowly subsumed by Noah & the Whale, while ‘Big Red Dragon’ owes at least a partial debt to The Magic Numbers. ‘My Love Took Me Down to the River to Silence Me’ is perhaps the album’s most stirring statement, especially given that ‘Harper Lee’ and ‘The John Wayne’, still soaked in luscious harmonies, have long since aired as singles. Vocal duties are shared liberally on Absolute Zero and the rather sparing deployment of Faye O’Rourke, the sole female voice, adds to its emphasis. Save for the pitter patter of the chorused title amid O’Rourke’s impressively sonorous squall, she dominates to forbidding effect.

‘The Kitchen Floor’ is another inky peak, intense and emotive, again powered by O’Rourke’s forceful voice. Elsewhere the fare is mixed – occasionally anodyne if always dynamic – but ‘Red and Blue’ is something of an outlier, shimmering prettily before being vocodered to death. The album peters out a little in its final throes, with ‘Goodbye Blue Monday’ languishing in romantic anguish, like a lovesick Romeo lingering for Rosaline.

The Irish Times praised Absolute Zero for ‘great songs that sound like great songs from a dozen other bands’, which is at once the attraction and the problem. The band stand up to every comparison their influences invite – great harmonies grant them an identity beyond the similarities – and despite disparity between tracks, it’s still an accomplished album and coherent listen. It would be churlish to chide them for Mumford-aping commercial appeal and occasional MOR proclivities, because what’s lacking in originality is recompensed with soul and with style.

Absolute Zero isn’t outpaced by its hype. The album is guaranteed to build the band’s fan base and its finest cuts are ready made for festivals, sinewy indie with enough sharp edges. There is a little filler to strip, and Little Green Cars are still a work in progress – but they have already honed a seasoned sound, paying homage to peers beyond their years.