Somewhere, right now, a teenager’s ceiling is falling in to the sound of ‘Shitty Future’.

One of the highlights on The Bronx’s second self-titled album of last year, these two minutes are an echo of the Californians’ earlier material: pissed-off, prickly and quite possibly bad for your health, it blasts through the listener like a high-speed tank through a giant game of Jenga. Bricks everywhere, children in tears; teenagers of the nation pogo-ing in perfect harmony.

Those old enough to appreciate the pleasure of listening to music while sitting down, keep your ears away from ‘Shitty Future’; those with knee joints that don’t yet squeak when you walk at pace, climb atop your mattress and let yourself go.

Few rock singles this year will be as immediate, as catchy and as good as this. It’s just a shame that so few of The Bronx’s newest songs are of a comparable quality.