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With his wavering, cracked-mirror warble, Black Foxxes frontman Mark Holley is the perfect post-everything frontman, a guy constantly on the verge of a nervous breakdown who just wants to get through the night in one piece. Granted, a near-constant crisis of confidence isn’t always the best character trait for a rock’n’roll singer, but this Devon power(ish) trio make it work on their solid debut album.

While they never really sound brand-new, Black Foxxes aren’t well-worn either. They exist in a sort of blinking twilight world somewhere between murky 90s alt.rock and whatever comes next. It trembles, it bleeds, it plays to the back of the arena while staring intently at the floor. Singles Husk and the title track give up the game pretty early – this is a mud-ride of delicate depression-pop that feels like the album Dinosaur Jr. would have made if J Mascis quit his anxiety meds cold-turkey.

Alt.Rock Round-up: July 2016

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Came from the sky like a 747. Classic Rock’s least-reputable byline-grabber since 2003. Several decades deep into the music industry. Got fired from an early incarnation of Anal C**t after one show. 30 years later, got fired from the New York Times after one week. Likes rock and hates everything else. Still believes in Zodiac Mindwarp and the Love Reaction, against all better judgment.