The Czars make country music for Radiohead fans, combining warm guitars and woozy rhythms with an affection for off-kilter keyboards and whimsical pacing. Having been signed by Simon Raymonde (of the Cocteau Twins) to his Bella Union record label, they've won indie credibility - but still squirm in the shadow of the Doors. This is largely the effect of frontman John Grant's intense, emotionally honest vocals (not quite what you expect from a man with plaits in his hair and a penchant for Patsy Cline), which the band enhance with slippery sounds and rock flourishes.

The bah-bah-bah melody of Killjoy ebbs and flows, and Grant caresses each syllable as softly as he strokes the microphone stand, his words harsh and his awkwardness obvious - he isn't the most natural of performers. He loses himself in the fluttering violin adorning Black and Blue, until Andy Morley's guitar punctures the last-dance gentleness, compelling Grant to leave the Morrison overtones behind and head into Roy Orbison territory, his voice high as it clings to a note like a lover reluctant to say goodbye.

For all his eclectic tastes (there's a smidgen of blues and a sneaking regard for U2 lurking in the textured melodies) and love of unexpected keyboard bleeps, Grant deals in good old-fashioned realism, country-style. The Czars' last album, The Ugly People Vs the Beautiful People, explores the squalid side of love, the only sweetness provided by Grant's gift for making the perverse sound romantic.

On One Single Thing, he dresses up desperation as desire, punky guitars scratching away at the hushed piano and destroying the lullaby mood. Then he grows aloof as he wrestles with the traditional Let My People Go, looking like a depraved Willie Nelson, his voice soaring, as pure and light as his face is thunderous.