Bloody Head begin this thing on relatively meditative form, zoning in on a simple, knuckledragging blues refrain and hitting a weird spot somewhere between Bardo Pond and Unsane. If that sounds bizarrely chilled then fret not, because ‘Fit For No One’ offers no such time for reflection: a tumbling scrape a la No Balls or Orchestra Of Constant Distress that does what it can to crumple your mind into a tight, squidgy little ball. ‘Good Looking Bad Luck Totem’ starts in a vein of near-normalcy but descends into uncertain scrabbling and unnerving rending sounds top an inanely plodding bassline before ‘The Lurcher’ caps it all off in the exact manner you think it might. It’s filthy, slurred and utterly on the wonk – a brilliant, mangled mess from one of this stupid country’s finest, oddest bands.