Skinny Lister sound as if they’ve been swinging from the galleons singing holler ’em shanties about rebellion while three sheets to the wind for centuries. But this sextet are young, from south London, and have honed their bold-as-brass sound by getting innumerable festival tents jigging over the past few years. Often folk-punk bands struggle to capture that vaudevillian spirit on record, but Skinny Lister’s second album packs enough punch to steamroll a saloon brawl. Six Whiskies whiffs of the Pogues, there are moments of the Lumineers’ harmonies on Cathy, and a phlegmy rasp not dissimilar to Joe Strummer’s surfaces on This Is War. Gentler Celtic folk sways in when co-singer Lorna takes the lead (Bonny Away and The Dreich), but for the most part Lister do their best trade in earnestly energetic accordion stomps that make you imagine some annoying guy in braces and a top hat skanking into you in that festival tent. Best washed down with a keg of rum.
