It's fair to say that The Bookhouse Boys are not one of those bands who spotted a successful trend and thought, I know what, let's adapt our sound to that. The London nine-piece are often compared to Ennio Morricone but there are really only hints of that emotive Italian film composer. Their brass flourishes and general mood of Mariachi melodrama recall the classic spaghetti westerns but particularly on this, their second album, the mood is tethered to dark, punching walls of guitar and they don't really sound like anybody else.