Guadalupe Plata – Guadalupe Plata

The kind of record that leaves you feeling you need a bath, Guadalupe Plata is beyond dirty. A scuzzed-up, howlaround, frenzied fusing of blues forms and punk attitude, the Andalucian trio's fourth album was recorded live to eight track tape and you can tell: the arrangements are raw, the production barely there, the sound an abrasive, all-consuming clatter. It's an elementary mix but there's a blackened spirituality within its shadows.

Take Serpientes Negras ('black snakes'), where the rickety backing, surf guitar and Pedro de Dios Barceló's wailing vocals stir up a bubbling, hellfire brew. In fact, it's Barceló who deepens the band's character. A genuinely gifted singer, he is, at times, a dead ringer for a young Black Francis. Which might, at first glance, not be the most obvious reference point but see how many times here you find yourself muttering under your breath, 'You are the son of a motherfucker.' [Gary Kaill]