IN the nicest possible sense, Jon McClure is musical ambivalence personified. The Reverend of the title has never cared much for critical acclaim or chart-busting, with his (not inconsiderable) fanbase rarely growing or shrinking, like a club with a workable one-out one-in policy.

Thirty Two is, conversely, perhaps McClure’s trashiest yet most accomplished record yet, aided by Youth’s production expertise and ability to blend indie-pop, ska, synths and breakbeat. The electro-pound of Detonator is as bullish an opening statement as you’ll get, with McClure giving full vent to his Sheffield sneer, and what I Spy, Different Trains, Time and Your Girl may lack in guile, they make up for in power and infectiousness.

Many of McClure’s lyrics should be sent straight to landfill, and his tank has run dry by the time Play Me – he wasn’t built for doing torch songs, let’s be honest – and Old Enough (To Know Better) show up, but it’s refreshing to see an album which is what its maker wanted to make, and stuff what anybody else thinks.