The fact that The Frank And Walters became indie stars in the early ’90s is both surprising and completely natural. The world, including British media royalty, fell in love with their innate knack for penning killer melodies, the kind of tunes that saw them become stalwarts of indie discos from Glasgow to Galway. But at the same time, there was often a depth and darkness to Paul Linehan’s lyrics that belied the songs’ cheeky pop sensibilities and suggested they might make uncomfortable pop stars.

If anything, their bleaker side has grown stronger in the intervening years. While Songs For The Walking Wounded isn’t the kind of happy clappy record that will catapult them to the forefront of daytime playlists, it is a wonderful album by a group of musicians comfortable in their own skin. That’s not to say it lacks ambition or accessibility: far from it. ‘Goddess Of Athena’ is a full-on sweeping, string-laden piano ballad that could light up stadiums the world over. The sun kissed ‘Riviera’ rolls into your cranium and takes up lodgings there, while ‘We Are The Young Men’ is melodic guitar pop with a chorus so infectious, it should come with its own antiseptic hand-wash.
‘Stages’ comes across slightly sombre, but ultimately preaches empathy, forgiveness and redemption, and ‘1234567’ masks ruminations on mortality behind the kind of hook most songwriters would sell their Best Of Bob Dylan vinyl for. The mid-paced melancholy of ‘Fishes’ is a magnificent outsider anthem, dedicated to “the broken and the walking wounded, for all the isolated and secluded”, while the hummable majesty of ‘Circumstance’ rewards repeated listening. Add in the shimmering guitar of ‘Somewhere In The City’, the addictive gallop of ‘Hanging On The Edge’ and the sweet soul groove of the confessional ‘Father’, and you have a band who might be a little bit older and greyer, but are producing their most important work in years.