The Peanut Albinos offer a compelling mixture of speakeasy jazz, Pogues-style aggression and beguiling ol’ timey country. For some reason, I found them rather scary; perhaps it was the beards and hats, or the rasping king-of-the-drunks excellence of the singer, but there felt an undercurrent of evil about some of the songs, especially the jazzy ones with their funereal banjo and air of mocking world-weariness. When the Great Depression hit and banker after banker took the plunge from the forty-first floor, you can imagine the Peanut Albinos playing away on the street corner as the emergency services searched the sidewalk for all the body parts. This sense of menace dissipates on the country songs where note-perfect harmony (with a spirit not far from The Band’s ’Rockin’ Chair’ or even the odd track by our own Epstein) and instrumental tenderness are the watchwords, although the chord progressions are a little more sophisticated than in most country tunes.

Still, even with these lyrical interludes I couldn’t help thinking that the Peanut Albinos’ appearance may be a harbinger of hard times ahead, as if they were a group designed for some future Perfect Storm: Sub-Prime, Credit Crunch, Stock market Crash and Beckham being picked for England again. Put it this way, if they succeed, it probably means the rest of us are in the shit.

By Colin MacKinnon