For some, suspicion about Måneskin's rise to prominence persists, as if a young, sexy rock band who appeal to young, sexy rock fans shouldn't be able to sell out London's O2 six months ahead of showtime without first spending winters trudging up and down the M1 in search of approval from a brains trust of grizzled music lovers.
Part of this must surely be down to the way time seems to collapse with age, as the truth of the band's "sudden" rise is that the gap between their TikTok-busting cover of The Four Seasons' classic Beggin' and the arrival of Rush! is the less than the span of time between Jimmy Page leaving The Yardbirds and the release of Houses Of The Holy. Overnight success for young, sexy bands? That was a seventies thing, man.
Rush! is dazzling proof that Måneskin are capable of writing rings around most modern riff monkeys. Exploring arena-friendly turf somewhere between Arctic Monkeys and the Red Hot Chili Peppers, it's an album that bristles with swagger and sass. It's also an album of great economy: none of the 17 songs waste any time getting where they're ultimately going, with opener Own My Mind taking approximately three seconds to establish the frisky chug that underpins the Måneskin blueprint.
Things gets really interesting on the ballad Timezone, which takes a cue from the band's outstanding recent cover of Elvis's If I Can Dream (not included here) to wind its way to swelling climax, and on Bla Bla Bla, which kicks off with the most detached vocal since The Flying Lizards deliberately sucked the life out of The Beatles' Money, and features the brilliantly lazy line 'Ha ha ha-ha-ha ha ha / I wanna fuck, let's go to my spa'.
Feel sounds like a youthful contender to replace Seven Nation Army on stadium terraces worldwide, Kool Kids was surely written in tribute to IDLES, and the Italian language LA Fine picks up where the Eurovision-winning Zitti e Buoni left off, with Damiano David's breathless vocal riding a riff and a rhythm that couldn't get any more lively were it comprised entirely of eels.
And, as if to demonstrate their belief in their own material, the album ends with two hit singles, Supermodel – with that wonderfully choppy, Frusciante-esque guitar from Thomas Raggi – and The Loneliest, almost as if they're an afterthought. Seriously, it's time to believe.
