It’s easy to scoff at a record as outwardly self-indulgent as the Parting Gifts’ Strychnine Dandelion. You’d be forgiven for thinking the 15 tracks on offer here are covers of songs from some of the most influential bands of the 50s and 60s, such is their instant familiarity. But one’s familiarity is another’s unoriginality. We’ve become accustomed to artists attempting to put their stamp on that said era but are seemingly less inured to performers paying homage to their influences quite as professedly and wholeheartedly as the Parting Gifts do. Yet, when it’s done with as much vigour and candidness as this, you might just feel enthused to make an exception.

It will come as no surprise to some that behind this Sixties reanimation is underground garage rock veteran Greg Cartwright. The Oblivians, Compulsive Gamblers and Reigning Sound are just three of a score of bands that have played outlet to Cartwright’s dirty, dynamic ditties. To detail even some of his achievements would be an injustice such is the man’s prolificacy. His latest project sees him team up with The Ettes’ Coco Hames whose retro rock n ’roll sensibilities are an ideal match. The collaboration was originally going to be confined to a split 7” but an inspired streak of creativity saw it expand into a full length. What is has transpired to is an album of wistful throwaway pop which contains some of the year’s most achingly addictive hooks.

From the first minute ‘Keep Walkin’ stomps onto the scene, you know there’s no messing about here. “Well you can sit there and bitch/But I ain’t ever gonna be rich, honey,” growls Cartwright above a befitting biting riff. Flagging up stand-out tracks is no easy task as few moments are wasted by the duo, but ‘Bound To Let Me Down’ will be the one you’ll keep coming back to when in need of a slice of Sixties scuzz. “How do you stand so straight, when your mind is so crooked/paralysed surprise upon your face,” is just one illustration of how evocative Cartwright remains as a songwriter, with his burly voice adding a further dimension. Hames’ sweet, hoarse tones, however, take charge for the main with Cartwright reinforcing the chorus to rapturous effect.

The Black Keys’ Dan Auerbach and the Raconteurs’ Patrick Keeler are credited with some input on the album, although exactly where is not defined. Both ‘My Baby Tonight’ and ‘Hanna’ exude an Auerbach vibe, the latter of which could easily be mistaken for a less jarring Keys’ track. Nothing sounds out of place though, as both effortlessly consign to Cartwright’s philosophy of producing reliable rock n’ roll that never fails to deliver.

Strychnine Dandelion is littered with air-guitar-inspiring squeals and solos, the best of which is saved for the desirous ‘Shine’. But while Cartwright laments lost love, the listener is never found wanting. Sure, they’ll be those who say this is purely pastiche, and they are not far from the truth. But when it turns out to be as barefaced fun as this you can’t resist repressing the critic in you.