West Midlands are a gang of weird pop magpies cranking out high-concept, no-budget DIY death rock from a dank room on an industrial estate, around the back of PC World. They are not for everyone.

Their songs chart the decline and fall of a rapidly decaying musician, dropped by his label, forgotten by fans and forced to return to his childhood home in the Black Country to confront his demons – some of which, it turns out, are actual demons. It’s sort of a documentary.

Cosmic scouse super producer Paul of Sound provides the music; former Winter Olympics singer Andrew Wolfman plays the unknown frontman.

Live, the band are bolstered by some serious heads who transform West Midlands’ decidedly home-made hits into a heartbreaking but hilarious, high-kicking stadium-ready rock show full of heart, passion and Poundland special effects.

BBC Introducing called them, “The best live show I have ever seen.” Joyzine magazine thought the band a “ridiculously addictive stone age riot… weird music for weird times,” while Kurt Vile just called them, “Genius.”

The band takes the last 50 years of West Midlands music as a starting point for their sound. It’s all there: the Hammer Horror heaviness of Black Sabbath, the chaotic post-punk clatter of The Swell Maps, the grubby grebo of that weird six-month period when Stourbridge was the new Seattle.

There’s a decidedly Dexy’s "whoah-oh" here, a whiff of Zeppelin’s spooky village mysticism there, and a respectful nod to both The Streets' wordy hedonism and the Brummies-on-a-boat pop nous of Duran Duran

West Midlands release their third record 'In Tertiary Markets' through Grave Tapes this Spring.