Cardiff’s latest thrill-seekers Radstewart – in terms of parody names, like Joanna Gruesome etc., this has gotta be up there – are the most dishevelled hedonists since the birth of Los Campesinos! Perhaps they don’t go for the same sugar-rush fight-pop, but there’s that je ne sais quoi that links the two acts in shambolic unity. A murder of tastemakers (stab in the dark at what the collective noun for them is) have noted links to Pavement and Parquet Courts, but there’s a distinctly British-y noise coming from Radstewart.

“Fix The Roads” schlumps along, occasionally erupting with bursts of bravado and Dananananaykroydian aggro. For the most part though, the track dawdles, hands stuffed in pockets, kicking rocks into kerbs. In contrast, “Insane Parties” is all grandiose indie-pop waltzes and Ginsu-wit and snarktacular gobshitery: “If you go out and get drunk in a Native American headdress/ then you’re a cunt/ I don’t care if you’re a 1/8 or what…” Do lyrics get much better than this? Probably not.

As the EP progresses, there’s a belligerent niggle slowly evolving – namely that lead vocalist Jac Jones, a ’70s/’80s punk sprechsegang-flinger, sounds like Suggs, Ian Dury or Jilted John (some outlets have bandied around James Murphy too). It’s a novelty, a gloriously blasé method of singing and telling the world you DGAF. There’s no pretense – well, perhaps a smidgen – or deliberate ventures into slackerwave or ’90s hobo-rock in order to convey nonchalance. They just sound like that, quite naturally – and it’s not a focal point either, rather a by-product of four pals churning out sounds. They’re making lo-fi and DIY noises without sounding forced, without an apparent conscious desire to do so. It sounds genuine, and they sound like they’re having fun. Applause on that front lads.

This coming-of-age EP is an intimate catharsis. One to easily empathise with – especially for recent graduates. The four-piece tackle life at uni coming to an end, with equal parts regret and impassioned nostalgia, reminiscing together about their time together and re-living wild memories. It’s filled with nods to their personal lives and in-jokes, that no-one but Radstewart and fellow university cohorts will fathom, but their anxiety and transitional emotions translate well. It’s introspective, retrospective, irreverent, sardonic, sloppy, rushed and passive-aggressive. There’s not many that can pull of sounding like that, but Radstewart do.