- Blues rock is back and, well, it’s bloody everywhere. I’m down with it, though, there’s something for everyone: from The Black Keys, to the Backsliders, to Gay Paris to CW Stoneking. Even with so much happening, I’ve still got room in my heart for a few more songs about hard drinking, domestic violence and the devil.

I even kinda surprised myself when I discovered that Dirty Hearts was a band that I could rock along to. Outside of polka, there aren’t too many sounds the kids are into that I won’t try myself, at least once. Still, I’d have to be feeling especially tolerant / drunk to be dragged into any proposition that involved the words cock-rock & glam.

I’ll let you guess whether I’m tolerant or an alcoholic, but Dirty Hearts are bringing blues-rock, glam, cock-rock and a heavy alt-rock, maybe even grungy sound, and I’m buying. Despite the excesses associated with those genres, the band’s debut EP presents with absolutely no-nonsense. Opener New Way Of Walking is less than two minutes of libidinal psychosis, “I can’t make it stop!” wails frontman Matt Doe. It’s Doe’s sound that contributes to a lot of the glam / cock feel of the band. Dirty Hearts profess a fondness for The Who and Led Zep but I’m more reminded of some unholy alliance of Brian Johnson singing for Mötley Crüe.

Amping their blues cred., the band groovily shuffle-rock their way into Bitter Blues. A song about being desperate and “...A jealous son of a bitch / Especially when I’ve been drinking” as Doe’s voice soars even higher. Again, there’s not a wasted second, not even in the guitar solo and, isn’t that what they’re for? This is really tight.

Miss Mash is a beautifully wistful ode to planning on getting straight, while you're ***ed off your nut. There are soaring, major melodies, woah-oh-ohs and I could swear I heard a piano way off in the back: it’s the Gunners at their most florid.

The sentimental heart of the affair is, yes, a ballad - The Ballad Of The Beady Eyed, to be precise. A huge chorus harmony, full of warmth, revelling in the corruption. At three and a half minutes, there might actually be a wasted second or too, some rhythmic changes that are almost proggy, even, but hell it’s a ballad, let it hang out a bit.

Louis XIV is the lone wolf, rough as guts production on the vocal in the verses, snarling about being down and out. The chorus is a lyrical wail about getting “...high on my own!”

It is well tracked against bittersweet closer, the comparatively quiet rocking croon of Whatever Gets You Through The Night, musing on love and institutionalisation.

It’s over in under under twenty minutes and, as I keep saying, doesn’t feel like a second was wasted. From The Angels to Rose Tattoo, this sort of music has ruled Australia. This EP is so slim and spare, I get the impression the nation may have missed it, but if have this nagging feeling that if they did notice it, this music might rule again.

- Chris Cobcroft.