Opening single ‘Melbourne Water’ has the kind of jangly guitar playing that you might find on a Go Betweens record, but with a distinctive metallic edge that plays the quippy sidekick to the nasal drawl of lead singer Rick Sabbatini. ‘Isn’t It Nice’ kicks things up a notch with clanging riffs and a showcase of Skink Tank’s secret weapon: two singers. “Thank god I’m stuck in my head, better than stuck in bed,” they sneer, doing the best off-kilter unison vocals you’ve heard since LA punkers X. It’s over in less than two minutes - nothing here overstays it’s welcome, almost to a fault. You’re definitely going to want to come back for a second serving of their emotionally intelligent din before too long.

‘At The Door’ makes you wonder how the hell you get a guitar to sound like that, whilst bassist and second singer Maggins (a published poet in their own right) shows off the Skink’s introspective side. This is what really sets the band apart, when you look past the lizard jokes and mangled sounds, there’s good songwriting with wit and earnestness. They may be self-deprecating, but it’s also honest; there’s nostalgia for a place you know that deep down, you don’t want to be anymore. “Nothing really changes on the day after New Years Day,” after all.

If you’re looking for an existential crisis, local pub rock wimps Skink Tank will give it to you while you’re just trying to have a bloody pint with the old mates.