Vincent Vincent And The Villains - Gospel Bombs

No matter how many technological leaps forward we make, musical success largely continues to be founded upon sound influence, some degree of regurgitation and revival. Current flavour of the month band Vampire Weekend, for example, are heavily indebted to the 1980s Afrobeat sound cultivated by Paul Simon and Talking Heads, who in turn had pilfered from, well, Africa. For East London quartet Vincent Vincent and The Villains, a polite nod to their idols won't do. Their derivation – their devotion - is slightly more wholesale. Debut album Gospel Bombs is a shameless ode to 1950s rock and roll and, as such, proves a refreshingly well-groomed antithesis to the dishevelled indieness we're constantly subjected to in the post-Libertines UK soundscape.

Flamenco fused opener Beast, boasts lashings of tremolo and introduces us to Vincent Vincent's (his real name apparently) theatrical delivery, in turn setting the tone for the rest of the album. The gospel according to Vincent is built around infectious barbershop harmonies, sound melodies and tales of love and lament. The band's fidelity to these ideals is quixotic and unflinching and is the key to both their success and shortcomings. Half of this album is excellent. The standout trio of Blue Boy, Sons of Love and Sweet Girlfriend are guaranteed to become lodged in your head and, as with all quality rock and roll, you'll be involuntarily tapping your toes in time with Vincent's own winklepickers. You'll find yourself wondering why, despite being a rehash of Buddy Holly, Roy Orbison (The Big O even gets a mention on Killing Time) and any other pre-Vietnam crooner in between, this still manages to sound fresh (perhaps their commitment is contagious). But after a while, you just might become a trifle bored.

At twelve tracks, Gospel Bombs is asking a little too much. There is nothing particularly wrong with any of the songs, but the lack of variation becomes a little tiresome. Vincent wears his heart on his sleeve throughout, but his doe-eyed adoration of his 45s (Killing Time) and his paramour, whilst charming at first, are a little difficult to buy into over the duration. Vincent Vincent and the Villains obviously do what they love and they do it very well, admirably avoiding coming over as a novelty act (you won't need to file this next to Shakin' Stevens), but they've put their eggs in one precariously flimsy basket. Where do they go from here?