I’ve heard a lot about Quack Quack. I’ve heard they’re incredible live; that their drummer is one of the greatest in the UK; that to watch them is to instantly love them. But until I pressed play on Slow As An Eyeball I’d never actually heard them.

I’ve got to be honest; on first listen it sounded flat, cheap and clumsy. I didn’t feel as though the songs or record itself were really going anywhere. And then I turned the volume up; I listened to it REALLY LOUD and suddenly, magically, it became REALLY GOOD.

Quack Quack are a Leeds trio who mesh together the best drum breaks from a Marnie Stern album with synth lines straight out of Mike Patton’s mind, all in the tone of M83 thumbing a Casio keyboard. I could throw about loads of hyphenated terms like jazz-fusion or post-rock, but in truth it’s a very difficult album to define.

Tracks like D Motherfucker D open with a slight glitch of keys before the drums flood in, scattering across the track with a dizzying cohesion. And then it stops, slamming into a lounge act breakdown. Basically, this record doesn’t make much sense. It’s part jingle bank, part exercise in kitsch, but it’s always utterly captivating.

Listening to Quack Quack it becomes apparent that they’re all pretty talented musicians and the ideas on this record sound as if they’ve been played out with a slight tongue in cheek. I just feel it could sound bigger. I want to hear each drum pound and reverb with a power that matches the skill behind it. I want to hear the keyboards really ring and the bass fuzz out my headphones. I want to feel this record in my ears.

Short of personally stumping up a large sum of money to fund their next recordings with Butch Vig, that’s not going to happen. So instead I’ll go and see them live and get ready to finally, fully fall in love.