Like many a misplaced, artsy Southern boy, the members of Colour Revolt apparently find faux Britishism cathartic (linguistic affectations like spelling and punctuation, for example). Or it might just be a shout-out to their hometown, Oxford, Mississippi. Either way, they’re not exactly what one would expect from a rural locale in the American south. Guitars are responsible for every noise in Colour Revolt’s mix—not a single note of piano, waft of synthesizer, or evidence of electronic tampering are to be found. Their default is somewhere between a hushed sing-song and a full-throated caterwaul, though they try their luck on both ends of the decibel spectrum.

Although their band sounds less imitative than any other newcomer in recent memory, Colour Revolt have a well-chosen menagerie of influences, culled both from other small-town indie bands who have recently made left-of-center experimentation sound good (Spoon, Menomena), and from the greats that every indie band more or less wants to be (Radiohead, The Pixies). After a buzz-worthy self-titled EP, Colour Revolt returns with a frenzied, God-obsessed affair that boasts just enough moments of perfection to cast a harsh light on its shortcomings. One thing Plunder, Beg, and Curse does not lack is effort—every track practically bursts with it, and sometimes that’s the problem.

There’s nothing quite like the rush of excitement brought on by new artists opening their record with a brash, near-perfect song. Filling Plunder, Beg, and Curse’s opening slot is the spring-loaded “Naked & Red,” a rocker that expertly navigates the cynical waters of suspense and anticipation, introducing itself with a stick count, a room-shaking bass riff, and an evocative, provocative opening lyric: “God is swinging from the liquor tree/Licking everything he finds/God knows all about you and me/Lucky I’ve got something to hide.” The first verse is followed not by a chorus but by a seamless breakdown, in which the rhythm slows dramatically and dueling lead guitars have an unruly disagreement. The song stumbles in its final minute, when its thrashing descent into a formless squall dials it down from “incredible” to just “loud.” Not to say it isn’t exhilarating, even while prefacing the failure of the other high-decibel tracks (“A Siren” and “Swamp,” particularly) to go anywhere worth mentioning.

Those two tracks are the record’s greatest disappointment, as the instrumental side of Colour Revolt sounds pretty incredible when they’re blowing out the roof. The to-heck-with-it rebelliousness of “Swamp” is almost worth its uncalled-for screeching—the song is Wolfmother-esque in its indulgence on circular riffs, pure adrenaline, and unbridled loudness. But just like Julian Casablancas’ hoarse, flat vocal reaching on that latest Strokes record, Jesse Coppenbarger’s out-of-range screaming theatrically misses the mark.

Turning down the volume doesn’t necessarily help matters: several of the slower tracks veer from Colour Revolt’s initial sense of showmanship, adding up to experimentation without payoff. The thumping bass and sudden rushes of energy on the listless “Elegant View” stomp their way to nowhere, and the forgettable, monotonous strumming of “Innocent and All” gives it a certain quality akin to a Band of Horses b-side.

Much more confidence is found on “Moses of the South,” which allows Coppenbarger room to actually sing, and the band slides in and out seamlessly for an understated swaying effect. Even if the lyrics aren’t really intelligible, the Biblical imagery is back—we hear something about the “Moses of the South” inspiring “devil worship now,” and wonder if that’s how some residents of Oxford, Mississippi describe Colour Revolt’s music. (Further evidence: “Your wisdom is very thoughtless, but your window is worth looking out from.”) The swagger of “Naked & Red” finally resurfaces on “Shovel to Ground,” where the guitar antics merge around one of the better melodies on the record and the rhythm change-ups are so well executed that they’re easy to miss.

Colour Revolt is a good band with good ideas. So much so that this debut record is worth listening to if only to fervently wish it was a bit better. If on the next release they find a way to harness their swagger and instincts without seeming overeager and obnoxious, they’ll have taken a stomp in the right direction. Until then, I’ll be rooting for them.