They may be burdened with a preposterous name, but White Denim are the latest in a long tradition of idiosyncratic Texan talents. As the stadium indie boom fades and a generation resorts to folk (usually a sign of a war taking place), this fiercely imaginative band mash up decades of musical history into something that defies easy categorisation. The glib label garage-rock comes nowhere near.

The scratchy, catchy single Let’s Talk About It hinted at unexpected depths with its extended dub coda, but these defiantly eclectic tracks go much further. The punky thrash of Mess Your Hair Up mutates into something far harsher, while Sitting is unexpectedly tender, a quirky anthem reminiscent of Secret Machines, another Texan band that recently flirted with the big time.

The sweetly tuneful Heart from Us All is country-rock, of sorts, and the relentless, seemingly endless introduction that makes up Shake Shake Shake is perfect for a party set to end when the cops arrive. More thoughtful is the eerie Don’t Look That Way at It and IEIEI (sung as it’s spelt), which sounds like throwbacks to a distant era when Frank Zappa was given money to throw at talented eccentrics such as Captain Beefheart and Tim Buckley. Chuck in touches of Can, Public Image Limited at their oddest and Minutemen, and it’s like listening to a primer in edgy rock music.

But White Denim aren’t merely reworking old formulae. Throughout this album they prove unusually comfortable with silences — stand-up comedians they are not. Sounds as well as structures are chopped up and instruments drop in and out unexpectedly. For the generation that has grown up with ever more minimal R&B and hip-hop production, nothing could be more natural. Applied to familiar, if sometimes outré, rock formats, it’s a revelation — the exact opposite of the Hives’ compromised collaboration with Timbaland that merely diluted two conflicting styles.

This then must be the update of post-punk experimentation that we were promised, before it turned out that recycling old disco tropes was more lucrative. Workout Holiday really is a stunning record, though dancing to it may prove problematic.

(Full Time Hobby, TMS £9.99, call 0845 6026328)

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