Glasgow’s Water Machine crashes onto the scene with God Park, a glorious debut that sounds like a post-punk petting zoo run by art school dropouts on a sugar high.

These canny Scots churn pop culture detritus into golden sludge – one minute you’re bopping to “Tiffany,” a gooey love letter to Orange Juice’s Rickenbacker sparkle, and the next you’re being throttled by “Junction,” which feels like Rage Against the Machine got lost in a karaoke bar. God Park is sweet, it’s scrappy, it’s got cowbell.

Songs cartwheel through genres as they take inspiration from Glasgow’s indie past, i.e., ransacking it with glee. Toss in some Tropicalia, punk screech, and dog metaphors, and it’s an album stitched together out of pure, deranged delight.

8/10

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