Firstly, let’s take a moment to appreciate the attention to detail: Artwork inspired by a polaroid discovered in your parent’s attic (spoiler alert: it wasn’t) and a moniker that wouldn’t be out of place on the bill at Woodstock.

American Slang is unmoved by current trends. Instead, opting to churn out jams that administer a peaceful easy feelin’. The upbeat jangle of ‘Leon’ soothes that swamp rock fever, while ‘Greens’ would be a fitting tribute to Fleetwood Mac’s recently departed founder.

A vast array of ’60s hitmakers line the grooves of this record, most notably, the Grateful Dead. And like Jerry Garcia’s band of sonic gamblers, the Californian four-piece occasionally drift into faux jazz territory (‘Bloom’) by experimenting with softer dynamics, before increasing the layers of distortion and volume once more (‘Singular Envelope’). In a year that promised so much, but delivered so little, this is an unexpected treat. However, as the album fades to black, you can’t help feeling wistful.