Despite dealing in a brand of post-punk often synonymous with mystery, Imaginary People are happy to bare all. The quartet arrive complete with a huge sense of theatre - flashing keyboard hits and stirring guitar flourishes ramp up the drama to the point of pantomime, the instrumental urgency alone enough to whip up a manic frenzy. The subject matter is similarly dramatic – the band’s debut EP was exclusively inspired by espionage, and rollicking 2014 single ‘Scarlett Duvall’ was supposedly penned about 'a honeypot double agent who shames her country'. Stirring stuff.

When you profile their leader, the New Yorker’s thespian streak comes as much less of a surprise. Aided by frantic instrumentals, the strikingly-named Dylan von Wagner seizes the spotlight and never lets go, his imperious wail falling somewhere between a drugged-up Elvis and the lead in a particularly violent musical about a shady private investigator. One could, indeed, imagine him fronting an ensemble musical cast, commanding a crowd of theatregoers until the stage is bombarded with bouquets.

In the mid-Noughties maelstrom of pseudo-mysterious Julian Casablancases we somehow lost our love for this kind of showman, but Von Wagner proves that the breed is far from extinct. On Imaginary People’s full-length debut Dead Letterbox, he takes no time thrusting you into his paranoid, panoramic world - opener ‘Simple Life’, complete with Springsteen-ian chord progressions and buzzing, sci-fi synthesisers, would be perfectly at home as the opening credits of a gritty noir cop show. Breakneck speed is maintained across the next two tracks, ‘Summerstock’ and ‘Plain Purple’, as though the band have hurtled into your consciousness on a flaming speedboat - the former is a belting, four-to-the-floor jam in the vein of The Ramones, the latter pretty much an indie rock Bond theme.

Although much of record focuses on similar barnburners, darker moments do rear their heads. The wickedly uneasy ‘Gingerbread Girl’ might be the highlight, a lovesick samba channelling Interpol at their gloomiest, whilst the solemn ‘Agata’ sees Von Wagner’s quivering croon reach it’s emotional peak (at least until ‘Stella’ provides a poignant finale). Aided by some thunderous production from Swans collaborator Kevin McMahon, Imaginary People remain taut and clinical throughout Dead Letterbox, straying far from the brooding post-punk stereotype with some loose, garage-rock grooves. Von Wagner too, remains on fine form, demanding your unbroken attention the way the likes of Bowie and Costello used to, seizing you by the shoulders with a conviction not too many frontmen dare to muster nowadays.

So, on their grand entrance, Imaginary People appear entirely unafraid of pomposity. Von Wagner pulls off some bold dramatic poses, the band behind him bare their tail feathers without a hint of shame. It’s a concoction that could be too brazen for some (if nuance is what you’re after, you may not find it here) but in a landscape where swagger and bravado are becoming less and less 'cool', Imaginary People will re-ignite the secret theatre lover in you.