No Drive-By Truckers’ album is quite like the one that preceded it, but nor do any of them offer much in the way of progress or development.

Album number eight has more of the same raucous southern-fried Americana, never quite delivering on the majesty of its track listing (The Wig He Made Her Wear, Eyes Like Glue, This Fucking Job), and slightly outstaying its welcome – most of their LPs go on too long – but still hanging together pretty well.