Formed in Texas. Named after a Polanski movie. A healthy interest in death and decay. Have shared bills with Calexico and The Dirty Three and been described as Gram Parsons-meets-Spiritualized.

Certainly, Knife In The Water’s pedigree is healthy, they boast the evilest pedal steel player since The Triffids’ Graham Lee, and I’ll wager they look great in suits. Unfortunately Red River, their second album, sounds like the work of a rather ordinary indie band in alt-country clothes, and god blast it, I wanted to like it better.

So what’s the problem? Well, nothing of holocaustal proportions, just a lack of some propulsive force in the band’s lengthy arrangements, or maybe an elemental fire in the melodies. And when KITW do travel economy class, as on ‘Rene’, their attempt at a murder ballad, singer-songwriter Aaron Blount betrays little cognisance of the rudiments of storytelling. A few nice details sure, like the pistol in the handbag, but essentially the chick wastes her man and splits – what else can you show me?

The rest of the album moseys along in its own time, makes some agreeable noises (most notably on the glazed sway of ‘Nevada Spider’), but never really cuts loose.

Like I say, Red River is not a bad record by any means, but there’s a glut of acts operating in black country at the moment, and Knife In The Water won’t get by on style alone.