Like a game of pass the parcel at Ed Gein’s house it’s always a bit of a surprise when opening a package from I Blame The Parents, a label with a roster that steps beyond eclectic into downright random. Any collective that includes the vocal talents of Spinmaster Plantpot (check out his appearance with Lorraine Kelly on YouTube (no, seriously)) is going to raise the odd eyebrow. But this offering, at the outset, from The Outdoor Types seems like a fairly conventional proposition. At a cursory glance this folk-oriented-foursome wouldn’t be out of place entertaining middle-managers in a canal-side pub on a Sunday afternoon. But appearances can be deceiving.

At first their looks seemingly betray their style, when the folk instrumentation crashes into life one must questions if the label haven’t accidentally pulled a pocket calculator from the box of dildos. But as the album progresses it becomes apparent things might not be as they seem. When the baritone vocals of ‘Got A Concept, Got A Job’ echo with the resonance of the sorely missed Strangelove or the opening guitar work of ‘Devils On Horseback’ conjures vision of mid-80’s Iron Maiden the penny beings to drop. You see, their influences are from a far wider sphere than your traditional folk fare.

Thankfully it all falls into place very naturally, it’s a country mile away from the comedy covers served up by Hayseed Dixie, and nothing feels forced or square-peg-round-holed. Ever wondered what Morrissey would sound like fronting a folk band? ‘Come Join Us In Hell’ provides a most eloquent answer. What if The Mighty Boosh had made Bagpuss? See ‘Biro Springs’. Elsewhere the spirits of Bragg and Strummer are on full display, fused into a nifty foot-stompin’ re-invention.

If this all sounds a bit too close to The Levellers, it isn’t. There is nothing cringeworthy, no-one’s going to encourage you to buy a digeredoo or go hunt-sabbing. If there needs to be a reference point, the finer points of The Wonder Stuff is probably it.

Granted, this isn’t going to change your life, but it might make you consider stage-diving in a straw-hat or moshing with some mead. Which has to be a good thing.