Juxtaposing “Skinwalker” with its associated epic (apparently literary-inspired space travel) brings to mind the hellish idea of a prog musician in a glittery cape, or worse, a muse. Maybe. In fact, there's only one point on his second album, Buzzard Buzzard Buzzard, where he almost errs on the wrong side of seriousness. With the exception of the completely conceptual 'The Drowning Bell', the Cardiff-based band's latest songs contain a larger-than-average amount of shitty lyrics, but they're enjoyable as a quick trip through pop's past. would be better. Look at “In My Egg.” This blistering track brings to mind T. Rex (their love affair hasn't waned in that forgotten decade), with frontman Tom Reese repeating its title phrase for much of the song's running time. . Or “Sugar Sandwich,” perhaps a rare moment where you might ask, “If Status Quo were to cover his Adam Ant, what would it sound like?” But when “Skinwalker” successfully skirts this line, between moody sincerity and questionable pastiche, it's pure fun. “My Star Sign Is A Baset Hound” enjoys an exaggerated performance with guitar licks that give off the feel of late 90s indie bandwagon. It wouldn't have been surprising if Mr. and Mrs. Buzzard had found it behind a long-lost studio sofa, alongside the equally spectacular “Leatherbound.” Perhaps the most impressive, after all, though it's easy to get weird, is “National Rust.” Kaiser is the kind of alt-pop song that would fit comfortably next to a Chiefs record or Declan's McKenna, with its whippy bridge, funky middle eight, and daytime radio chorus giving it an enviable pop nous. It creates expression. Records don't always work. When the amp is set to 7, “Chew” echoes Royal Blood. But when it works, it's a joy.