If I were a sensible critic I’d research the bands I offer to review before the fact. As it turns out, I’m not a sensible critic and I rely far too heavily on my often unreliable memory. I thought To the Bones were an inoffensive indie-twee band from the Midlands. It turns out they’re an indie-metal outfit from Bolton, whose main topic of interest is “rockin’ the shit out”.

You can imagine the shock; instead of a soft xylophone set to a tape recording of the seaside, I get Astral Magic, an apocalyptic homage to the anti-hero. My stereo was turned up so loud, I had to check my ears to make sure I wasn’t suffering from a brain haemorrhage.

To The Bones reach back to a genre championed by bands of yore; the kind you’d avoid following a passionate review in Kerrang, circa 1996. There are instances of modernity on display: folded into the howl and crunch of the title song you’ll find a vocal surprisingly similar to nu rave band Shitdisco, the chorus of ‘YHF’ offers the sobriety of Queens of the Stone Age, and ‘Monster’ has a killer intro akin to any Million Dead song. Okay, that last comparison isn’t particularly modern, but at least it’s credible.

Unfortunately, To the Bones’ unfailing need to unleash the beast within overcasts the few specks of talent they have to offer on Astral Magic, and the end result is a drab imitation of the bands we pretend we never liked. The metal genre is by no means a shameful or worn affair, but even if it constitutes your entire record collection, I doubt you’ll find much enjoyment here.