It must be hard being Jet. Touted as the next big thing in Australian rock music in 2003, along with the self-destructing Vines, Jet have yet to prove they have more staying power than an overpriced Bundy – œn Coke. Nic Cester’s distinctively scratchy “yeahs!” and “come ons!” can still be heard echoing from everything from that dodgy pub down the road to the Clipsal 500.

Occasionally, reputable DJs will give a track from Get Born a spin, but usually as a touch of nostalgia more than anything. I remember heading to the first Adelaide Jet gig, for the launch of their single Take It or Leave It (not to be confused with The Strokes’ song of the same name). They were loud, hairy, sweaty, talented and downright dirty. For the 200 or so of us packed into Enigma Bar, we were treated to something special. Massive single Are You Gonna Be My Girl? achieved acclaim in the US that Cold Chisel couldn’t muster, and they swept the floor at the upcoming ARIAS.

2006’s Shine On was not received so well – NME gave a token – œnice effort’ review, whilst Pitchfork simply displayed an image of a monkey pissing in his own mouth. Quite apt really, considering that all bar Rip It Up from Shine On was purely pedestrian rubbish. That said, Rip It Up was an awesome tune; a promising sign that there was some fire left in the belly of these flanneletted-ones.

You would have seen the Teen Wolf-inspired clip to Shaka Rock’s first single She’s a Genius. Unfortunately, there is not much ingenuity to the track, although you will get (unwittingly) hooked after a few listens. It smacks of The Knack a touch too much. Good, but it’s no Cold Hard Bitch. It is also a pity that their choice of album opener, K.I.A. (Killed In Action) is an uninspired exercise in cheerleader’s chants, complete with marching drums. Times Like This copies this formula.

Album highlight Beat on Repeat does both Dragon and The Clash proud, where Jet do what they do best – reshape vintage rock into something of their own. Here we have – œ70s rock your parents would dance badly to. Black Hearts (On Fire) is more of a mix between The Cars and Weezer, but it works. Lyrically, it is possibly one of the better on Shaka Rock, but with the competition including rhyming – œchances’ with – œanswers’ (see lacklustre Let Me Out ), I could be clutching at straws.

Goodbye Hollywood sounds a lot like a watered-down version of U2’s When Love Comes to Town, with some Stones thrown in for good measure; the latter carrying through to the next rack Walk. Latest single Seventeen is pleasing enough, with soaring guitars and Followill – œwoah-ohs’ to boot, but the boring verses let it down.

Start The Show is the aggressive starter the album needed, and with a title like that, why didn’t they? Closer She Holds a Grudge starts out like a Blink 182 song (!), then falls into a comatose heap. Too many tracks on Shaka Rock seem to slip by without so much as a whimper, and it is a hard task to pick out many cracking singles. Although it is not the – œcomeback’ album yearned for, Shaka Rock will rattle and hum comfortably along in your car CD changer for those times you can’t be bothered switching discs.

Shaka Rock is out now on Real Horrorshow Records/Five Seven Music.