The unpronounceable Icelandic Botledja were one of the highlights of this year's All Tomorrow's Parties for me. They did explain how to pronounce their name - something like "bonjela" but more guttural and, erm, "foreign" sounding - and it's a lesson worth learning so you can tell your friends about them.

Live they were like Shellac playing the songs of bogshed, and some of this comes through - bare bones guitar/drums/bass played at a frantic pace with snappy pop riffs, a few jerky rhythms, and hoarse vocals. But in the flesh it was their sense of humour that really cemented this for me.

On record of course you don't get the between-song banter - instead you can just concentrate on the primal rush of their music. Washes of distorted guitar cruising over a muscular rhythm, like a straighter Unwound, the vocals roaring naked anger one moment, almost pleading honesty the next. And it always keeps you guessing, always changing direction, changing rhythm but always coming back to the galloping rush of music played with energy and passion, sung by people with funny accents.