Yeasayer spent a year touring the festivals that hep indie bands like Yeasayer spend their years touring now.

Hawking around their last LP All Hour Cymbals, a collection of oddity odysseys, they realised that people were waiting through the dark trips like Wait For The Wintertime, waiting to go wild to the light touches and tunes like Wait For The Summer. They've resolved this on Odd Blood by making a record so full of psychedelic pep and stratospheric songs that they'll never have to wait more than 30 seconds between whoops of recognition when they get back on the circuit.

OK, it opens with some crunch and grind: The Children is, according to the band, a test to get through, followed by treats. Nine treats in succession, still shot through with folkadelic whimsy, but borne aloft by pulsing multitudes of synths. There is more than a little of Animal Collective's headlong abandon, writing in a pop-folk style then going wild at the mixing desk. Odd Blood is more LSD than Merriweather Post Pavilion’s MDMA rush, sprawling all over in a million pleasing colours. Chris Keating's vocals flip between tripped out shaman and preacher with his hand on your shoulder, and boy do you believe. Everything on here is as catchy as all get out, and as instant as modern gratification.

If things work out as they ought to, which they sometimes do, this record will be the soundtrack for a brilliant drive somewhere, or your longest run of 2010 so far, or will make a commute more fun and exotic than it seems on the faces of the people around you.

I’m trying to think of a reason to critique this record. Well, the promo site for their single is a bit creepy. But that's it. We’re coming across as a very positive bunch. But if people will insist on making great records, what can you do?