We Cut Corners are never happier than when confounding expectations, shifting gears like the USS Enterprise entering warp speed. They certainly don’t want their listeners to be complacent. How else do you explain the hyper-jump from the porcelain-delicate album opener ‘Wallflowers’ to the raucous rifferama of ‘Blue’? The former is all gently chiming guitar and sweet falsetto, joined for the finale by sumptuous strings for an orchestral chamber pop masterpiece that wouldn’t seem out of place on an overblown pop album. The follow-up, however, is all screamed vocals and raw power chords, like an edgier Placebo.

When you consider that these two musical poles make up the opening salvo of their second album, Think Nothing, it’s clear that John Duignan and Conall Ó Breacháin haven’t tempered their muse one iota. From the edgy, menacing punk overtones of ‘Best Friend’ to the almost hymnal ‘Every Thief’, We Cut Corners wilfully defy convention and categorisation on a pulsating sophomore album that sees them delivering one of the finest collections of song lyrics this year.

The pastoral ‘Maybe In The Future’ has more cutting put-downs than a comedian on a power trip (“I swatted at your advances like they were summer evening midges... You’re not that gifted, you’re just beautifully gift-wrapped”), while the infectious canter of ‘Overtures’ warns how “People in glasshouses should not throw tantrums”, as the drums rumble and guitars scratch an itch. Then there are the snappy licks of ‘YKK’, the nervous energy of ‘This Is Then’ and the paean to love-as-cannibalism in the string-soaked ‘Hunger’. Pick of the litter, however, is the seriously catchy ‘Mammals’, reminiscent of the great Idlewild at their art-pop best: all stop-start rhythms, twin vocals and cascading guitars.

The entire album weighs in at under 28 minutes, but like an Olympic bantamweight, there isn’t one ounce of flab here: it’s honed, toned and exercised to perfection.