The resurgence of what would once have been known as "indie" in the British charts in recent months has been striking. Guitar music now dominates both the singles and albums charts: it sometimes feels like it's impossible to move without being attacked by another tedious Coldplay clone. Don't get me wrong, it’s not the style of music I have a grievance against, more the bandwagoning, and the apparent lack of diversity this seems to be generating. After all, no musical genre can survive in a vacuum: it has to grow, to feed; to survive it has to move beyond pale imitation into innovation.

It's heartening, therefore, to see a recent clutch of bands setting out to challenge the guitar-boy rock hegemony. The Prodigy's album Always Outnumbered Never Outgunned couldn't quite live up to its title, its aggressive sonic adventuring failing to inspire wider public appeal. More successfully, however, The Chemical Brothers' recent Push The Button - rightly regarded by many as their best album for years – was more successful in infusing a dance template with more guitar-driven arrangements and sounds.

Which brings us to the turn of Lemon Jelly to take their place in the rock-orientated arena of contemporary releases. A less sonically dark proposition than either of the acts namechecked above, the duo of Nick Franglen and Fred Deakin have previously been most widely marked out for their offbeat sense of humour (demonstrated particularly in the nursery rhyme-sampling Nice Weather For Ducks). Set against the sunny, whimsical feel of such offerings, the opening track this time around, '88 (Come Down On Me) is an urgent, frenetic standout; all guitars and power chords from the very beginning. The band's cards would immediately seem to be on the table: adapt to survive.

However, whilst the slightly unwieldy title of the album, 64-95 (so named from the dates of the samples around which the songs are based) suggests some kind of unifying concept, the songs are just as diverse as ever. Indeed, it's possible to criticise the album for perhaps stepping too far in this direction, the guitar histronics of the opener being followed by the more typical rolling rhythms and lush samples of old. Single '75 (Stay With You), in particular, represents the opposite sonic extreme, full of classic sunny, lilting, summery pop. This is by no means a bad thing, however: Lemon Jelly albums this far have never been about a monolithic concept or sound, more the playful evocation of a disparate series of moods.

What they have always been about, however, is payoff. With songs usually clocking in at over seven minutes, and often taking a sizable portion of that running time to even get off the ground, it's the climax that can make or break your experience.'79 (Don't Stop Now) highlights a problem that remains with Lemon Jelly's work, whatever the sound: if you don't like the sample around which the track is based, or if (as in this case) it doesn't really seem to go anywhere, then you're left with six minutes of build-up and a less than satisfying climax.

Luckily, that's the case with only a couple of the tracks here, and their weakness is more than made up for by the sheer exuberance of the rest of the album. The rock sheen, whilst only intermittently applied, proves striking: the closing, William Shatner-sampling '64 (Go), in particular, is an indication of the extent to which the Lemon Jelly formula can stretch when applied to other genres of music.

And that's perhaps the most joyful thing about when the music here works, which it often does: the sense that at any point, on any track, things could go in an entirely new direction. After all, if I’m going to criticise musical trends for exhibiting little more than lemming-like recycling, then innovation and experimentation - however hesitantly they may be applied - need to be commended.