Baxter Dury is in decidedly chipper form. With a new child on the way and debut album Len Parrot’s Memorial Lift (don’t ask) about to make its appearance, there’s much to look forward to. Yet he’s also reminiscing, thinking of the last time he was in the Dublin hotel where we meet. His father, the late and unquestionably great Ian had just played a gig at the newly opened Mean Fiddler and the party had repaired to this very spot, where it all got a bit wild. He’s frankly surprised that, once they saw his surname, they let him check in.

But then it is, of course, one of the great names in British music and, while Baxter is perfectly happy to acknowledge his background, he’s also keen to make his own way.

“Music’s always been my passion but it’s quite difficult, if you’ve been properly brought up, to dash willy nilly into making music because you’ve seen how hard it can be,” he says. “You have to be careful of not just emulating something. I had to think about how I did it and do it in a way that I felt would be my own.”

He’s certainly done that. Despite a title that could have come straight out of his father’s songbook, the album is a singularly unique affair – a dense, macabre, psychedelic-sounding piece of work.

“That’s more an influence from the instruments and way of recording,” he observes. “I like doing things in one take. In my head I think I’m going to be Sly & The Family Stone or Al Green, really soulful. Where you end up is what you have to work out”.

In reality, he’s not too worried about analysing his own work (“it’s like cuddling yourself”) and is set on just enjoying the moment, a lesson he learnt from his father.

“He didn’t get that bothered by it,” says Baxter Dury. “If you can make it fun, then it’s just an alternative to working.”