I don t know much about genetics, but I do hazily remember some geneticist at a party trying to explain the business of beneficial mutations to me in simple terms, and he kept repeating the phrase hybrid vigour . Nottingham s Lords are about as hybrid as anything I ve heard this year, to the point where I m not entirely sure how I d attempt to classify them (which riles my librarian instincts no end, I might add), and while their second album Everyone Is People may not have the obvious franticness of some hairspray-crazed hipster metal troupe, there s an underlying current of life lived to the full that you might quite justifiably call vigour. That over-wordy beginning probably does little to cover up the fact that I have no idea how to sell you on Everyone Is People, even though I think it s really very good. The funny thing about this reviewing gig is that the most interesting and unique albums and bands are the hardest to do justice for and that s the only bracket I can squeeze Lords into. But let s try anyway, eh? Take three blokes, two guitars and one drumkit. Add some simple sixties psych-rawk grooves played with a stonerish attitude, lash on some Delta-blues skronk with a modern twist, batter out some loose rock drumming and add wailing vocals about... well, about nothing in particular, as far as I can tell. Sounds like a lot of bands around at the moment, right? Well, on paper, yes it does. But Lords seem to have miraculously combined the best aspects of most of them while leaving the dross on the cutting-room floor. Everyone Is People is simultaneously ramshackle and flawless, the most rock n"roll anti-rock album ever, all the bombast and fakery stripped away leaving just the bare essentials the grooves. Rather than working against Lords, their lack of bass player allows their sound to breathe, the interaction between the guitars and the drums providing all the *ss-shaking action you could ask for on the pacey bits, and the twang-sproing-kerrrung riffs of the intermissions and breaks adding some freaky rave-on vibes to the rattle and roll... come to think of it, Everyone Is People reminds me of early Monster Magnet in some ways, though minus the layers of effects and furrowed-brow bad-drug stories. And you could dance to em, too. The Things We Do For Money has truckloads of raw loose white-boy funkiness, fuzzed out on warm amped-up guitars; it s a raucous freak-out that doesn t take itself too seriously, and brings the bluesy-roots-of-rock thing to life with a refreshing lack of overblown irony or silliness. Which isn t to say that Lords aren t having a great deal of fun here; witness the sleazy doodles of Creatures and stoned twang-meanderings of Paw Paw King ; it s mock-moody but not malicious, a caricature of rock with no spite behind the smile. Oh, sure, Lords may sound like they ve been lurking in your garage for a few months, but the worst damage they ll have caused will be drinking the antifreeze and making your daughter dance under the carport as the rain drums on the flat roof. Everyone Is People might be road music for people who can t afford a car, or rock for people who hate rock stars, or... ah, f*ck it. It might just be a damned good listen, so stop reading my inadequate descriptions and go get a copy, OK?