The Psychedelic Swamp has been a long time in the making. A revisited and revamped version of Dr Dog's self-recorded, self-released cassette tape début, it’s essentially Psychedelic Swamp: Redux. Now this might suggest a swankily packaged, souped up, studio sheen-laden product released with a celebratory fanfare fit to do justice to 15 years in the game. But this is Dr Dog, so no, that’s not what it is at all. Being the scruffy bunch of herberts they are, it’s far more understated than that, and all the more charming for it. It is a collection of songs that the band say they couldn’t bring themselves to just throw away - and the affection they have for them is tangible.

One of the defining characteristics of Dr Dog is their tendency to hang on very earnestly to their influences - predominately Sixties psych-rock. And for that you could squarely, and sometimes justly, accuse them of all manner of retrograde crimes. However, whatever loopy layers they add in the process of capturing that sound it doesn’t hide the fact that herein lies a collection of sharply crafted, and dare it be uttered, catchy tunes.

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At the top of the pile is 'Good Grief', a happily lumpy tune that is also one of the strongest and one who’s rhythms will seduce you with its stoned slacker spell. The vocals ape Dylan circa-Blonde on Blonde, and it’s gentle, kindly psychedelia that will leave you feeling warm and fuzzy. Interestingly the record’s undisputed highlight is the only new track the band wrote for the album. They have a wonderful ability not to take themselves too seriously and humour runs throughout. But for all their goofing around 'Bring My Baby Back' displays their capacity for a very real depth of feeling – the gentle roll of the track gets its core power from Toby Leaman’s tender and soulful lead vocal which cracks with emotion. It recalls Phosphorescent’s Songs for Zula, and the “this heart it burns in rage and fire” refrain blazes and moves it into proper air punching territory. A sincere and unadulterated peach of a song.

Elsewhere the record hits a hazy sun blasted swagger with 'Engineer Says'; a quietly affecting loose tumble of country in 'Golden Hind' and, you guessed it, Sixties-inspired psychedelic pop with 'Swampadelic Pop'. At other times the simply baffling concept of this collection can become a little tiresome - most notably on 'Swamp Descent', '(swamp inflammation)', 'Swamp is On', and well, you get the picture. Essentially the swamp metaphor can get a little too real when wading through such tracks.

That said it does evoke, at its best, the ‘swampy’ blues of the New Orleans of Dr John. And its loose, scruffy feel sets it apart from retro stylings and tightly produced blues of Jack White and The Black Keys. Sometimes it can feel like wading through mucky water, but it’s far from a bad trip; more like a damn fine party that will no doubt find its home in many fields during the summer months. So despite the addition of the odd synthesised flourish Psychedelic Swamp is about as future facing as the retro computer graphics of the artwork, in this instance it’s actually refreshing to find a band not chasing trends or reaching for progression. They’re clearly a happy bunch doing what they love in a very satisfying fashion - why change to please others?