The boilerplate line on Cork bands is that they have access to higher levels of ‘wackiness’ than other musicians. Mostly, this is just condescending bullshit (what the hell is wacky about Simple Kid or, for that matter, The Frank And Walters recently?). Still, even the more tiresome cliches occasionally have a toe-hold in reality. So it proves in the case of Newmarket’s Stanley Super 800, whose demented lo-fi is freighted with rag-time weirdness and head-wrecking experimentalist flourishes. What rescues SS 800 from their more outre instincts is front-man Stan O’Sullivan’s sterling pop chops – vast swathes of this album sound like they were recorded down a mine shaft but, thanks to Stan’s knack for winsome melodies, the big pop pay-off is never very far away. Throughout, Stan sweats hard to broaden his sweep as an arranger: the single ‘Gatecrashing’ skates on Mariachi horn parps and a seductively throwaway vocal hook; ‘Dark Angel’ mingles burbling synths, treated words and a nagging acoustic refrain – it’s the sort of heartfelt indie weepie Pavement built their career on. Theoretically Stan’s vocals – a wounded-frog croak that runs the gamut between battered and bruised – could pose problems. Yet, against your expectations, he turns his vocal limitations into a strength. Singing in a strained croon, Stand channels the universal underdog. Nothing ‘wacky’ about that, compadres.