imple, shouty pop-rock is enjoying a bit of a resurgence at present with The Automatic’s all-conquering “Monster” and Lostprophets’ surprisingly successful return. People In Planes, who even conveniently turn out to be Welsh too, could be well placed to capitalise. Their debut album, As Far as the Eye Can See, may lean just as hard on American influences (particularly QOTSA) as their aforementioned peers, but its satisfying crunch is far better than either. Topped by Gareth Jones’ powerful and likable voice and an excellent, infectiously stupid chorus, “Barracuda” makes for an impressive opener. They go on to show a similar gift for a fantastic riff and powerful chorus on “Token Trapped Woman” and “For Miles Around (Scratch to Void)” with the latter adding a believable small-town desperation. So far, so mindlessly fun. So why, then, is listening to As Far as the Eye Can See so profoundly irritating an experience?

Well, take the treatment of last year’s single “Talking Heads” as an example. It was lighter on the riffs and heavier on the harmonising, but with a fine repeated chorus of “if you talk too much my head will explode” sung in neatly overlapping lines of (not entirely serious) increasing desperation. It has made it to the album (titled “If You Talk Too Much (My Head Will Explode)” now) and gained a totally unnecessary extra minute in length. The result is like watching a decent sitcom joke bludgeoned to death by uproarious canned laughter. It’s a problem endemic to the album: not only are good ideas stretched to breaking point, so are a lot of very bad ones.

Words of advice: if your song starts off like a poor imitation of Kasabian (“Moth”), stop right there. If it’s like a watered-down Muse from way back when they sounded like a watered-down Radiohead (“Light For The Deadvine”), quit. Don’t try to prop up your blandest songs with out-of-place female “ba-ba-ba-ba” choruses (“Rush”) or weak beyond belief electronic beeps (“Falling By The Wayside”). Better still, just don’t include them. Most of all, if the best chorus you can come up with for your song is “I’m a machine, I’m a machine, but I’m a funny colour” (the directionless brass/beats mess that is “Penny”) don’t make it six and a half minutes long and repeat the lines again and again over nearly blank space. Please.

This isn’t meant to be some kind of plea against creativity or ambition in rock. God knows we’d have been deprived of some great records if no one had ever got ideas above their station. It’s an appeal against over-ambition when you’ve barely got a grip on the basics.