Stop a second. Tense all your muscles really tight. Feel the burn. That slightly tingling sensation of everything being wound as taught as possible and then - ahhh, sweet relief - is a bit like what it’s like listening to Montreal quintet Pottery’s debut. Frenetic and relentless, with nary a pause for breath, the likes of driving post-punk jangler ‘Spell’ or the dizzying ‘Hank Williams’ set a pace. Then, you get a brief pause of respite in the ‘60s howl of ‘Lady Solinas’ or Parquet Courts-esque ‘The Craft’, but at any point - mid-song or whenever they damn please - the band are prone to veer off down unexpected tangents and send your heart racing all over again. Fuck exercise, one listen to this is all the endorphin rush you need.