They’re from Glasgow, their new album is called Kicks (punchy!), and their ringleader once played in a band with one half of Franz Ferdinand. From here, you can pretty much imagine how the 1990s sound, which wouldn’t be that much of a problem if sneering dance-punk didn’t seem so outdated. But by the time frontman Jackie McKeown tells his lady friend, “Sometimes you’re funny, but mostly you’re not/I think I’m going to have to put you back in your box” towards the album’s end, their pronounced love for Roxy Music’s glam and Louis XIV’s sleazy swagger sounds stale. In what seems like a tease, they sprinkle a few pitch-perfect pop numbers throughout the record, where they sound genuine and engaged, exposing their cocky tunes as accidental near-parodies. The guitars in “Balthazar“ pogo into Boy Least Likely To twee territory; McKeown dreams of a day “feeding ducks and going uptown” with his special lady while bassist Dino Bardot provides barbershop quartet-like backup. “59,” a quirky ditty about falling in love on public transportation, reads like a Craigslist missed connection over beachy steel guitars and laidback harmonies. It’s when the 1990s shake up the dance-punk template — the punchy rhythms, prickly guitars and sung-spoken vocals that make up the majority of the record — that we hear the hooks that’ll actually get people dancing.