Indian legend tells of a plan by the Mughal emperor Ghiyasuddin Shah Jahan to design and build a second Taj Mahal on the opposite side of the river Yamuna. Intended as his tomb, the mythical "Black Taj" was never built, and many historians are still in doubt as to whether or not such claims are anything but a myth. Indie-rock legend, however, tells of a band named Polvo, whose Middle Eastern-tinged math rock, and indefatigable critical acclaim in the face of commercial indifference managed to entice a compact, yet slaveringly devoted fanbase.

Composed of ex-Polvo confederates Dave Brylawski and Steve Popson, along with Grant Tenille (of the Idyll Swords) and drummer Tom Atherton, the aptly-named Black Taj has finally unleashed its self-titled debut, a seemingly back-to-basics affair that appropriates the surge and swagger of ribald '60s and '70s rock. Given the mélange of reference points it throws up - from The 'Stones to Deep Purple, from AC/DC to Led Zeppelin, from the Allman Brothers Band to Free - it's an album that almost seems purpose-built as a tomb for laying the indie/math legends of Polvo to rest.

The intertwining, coiling dual-guitar riffs are huge, struttingly bluesy things that lunge like drooping cocks packed into Jagger-sized codpieces, while sporadically pyrotechnic blues licks are wound around lurching bass lines and thumping drum grooves like flickering spittles of flame. That's without mention of the fact that all but one of these songs end on that well-trodden "classic rock" staple - the guitar solo fade-out. Only the grubbily anemic vocals of Dave Brylawski (falling squarely in the realm of indie twee) suggest anything other than a circa-'76 face-off between Foghat and Deep Purple, although that doesn't stop him snarling stadium-sized lyrical utterances such as: "Two shades deeper than blue/What is the color of desire?/There's only one thing I can do/I'm gawn-uh set this bridge on fi-yah... Awwwl-right!" ("Back To The Bridges").

Like tourmates The Fucking Champs, Black Taj seem hell-bent on injecting the long-lost art of "air guitar" back into the whey-faced realm of indie rock. It may as well have been recorded within the confines of a biker giant's chest hair by Phil Lynott (instead of a bunch of Trans Am/Polvo cohorts), but with their debut album Black Taj have successfully constructed an impressive, none-more-black rock monument for laying their old selves to rest. Big rock! - Allan Harrison (2006, The Daily Copper)