Most young Scottish bands would chop an arm off if it meant getting a record out on a respected indie label.

Randolph's Leap currently have the luxury of calling two such labels home.

Last year, the eight-piece released their Hermit EP on Fence Records, with an eye to getting their first full-length album out under the Fife collective's umbrella some time in 2013. The recent creative split between Fence head honchos Kenny Anderson (King Creosote) and Johnny Lynch (The Pictish Trail) has seen the band follow the latter to the new Lost Map label with the result that the planned album has now been pushed back until next January at the earliest.

Not to worry. Tomorrow, the seven-track Real Anymore mini-album will appear on Olive Grove Records. Randolph's Leap's association with this Glasgow label goes back several years (label boss Lloyd Meredith is de facto manager of the band) and, as far as frontman and songwriter Adam Ross is concerned, it's something of a cloud/silver lining scenario.

"It was a wee bit itchy feet," he admits. "We had about 30 songs recorded, only 12 of which will be going on the album, so we thought we might as well do something as a stop-gap. I personally think the mini-album we're doing at the moment is more suited to Olive Grove than Lost Map. And I think the album we're going to do in January is probably more suited to Johnny's aesthetic than Lloyd's."

In what way? The tone of the songs? Their sound?

"The thing we're going to do in January consists more heavily of home recordings with some songs with the full band," Ross explains. "That was kind of what attracted Johnny to us in the first place - the home-recorded solo aspect. The full-length albums we'd done before were either compilations or solo albums, so it's perfect that our first proper album is not necessarily one thing or the other. It's tying together what I see as the two strands of Randolph's Leap: there's me and there's the band as well. I like to cover both bases."

Both bosses seem happy with the arrangement.

"It's maybe quite a good thing in the current music climate that we can release on two labels without being tied into the exclusivity with either and putting all the eggs in one basket," Ross adds. "The more cooks, the better the broth - that's the phrase, isn't it?"

Ah, Adam Ross's sense of humour. It's certainly to the fore on the seven songs picked out for Real Anymore. Psychic tells a shaggy dog story of getting a job doing paranormal readings by telephone ("It's not an exact séance, but the referee waved play on, so I stepped into the unknown") in a style that's equal measures Woody Guthrie and Woody Allen. Indie King, meanwhile, skewers hipster pomposity and addresses that epithet continually flung in Ross's direction - that he and his band are "twee".

"I look at the twee thing in two different ways," he says, obviously having been forced over time to give this one some thought. "One, we're not twee because there's a level of self-awareness and tongue-in-cheek in our songs that takes it away from that. My perception of twee is straight-faced, earnest, heartfelt love songs played on a ukulele, wearing a bowtie.

"My other way of looking at it is that twee doesn't really mean anything. Some people use it as a derogatory phrase while others will happily use it to describe twee-pop, meaning happy, melodic, upbeat pop music. And even if we are, so what? To me there are far worse crimes. There are so many bands out there who are boring or arrogant or a carbon copy of something else, and people seem to get away with it."

I'm on his side. The lyrics are knowing and clever and, particularly when Randolph's Leap's trumpet-and-trombone brass section kicks in, there's an insouciant joie de vivre at play that instantly punctures any airy-fairy pretentiousness. Not only that, Ross has written some beautiful songs in his time: Going Home, an earlier, folksier single, makes its impression with music and melody rather than words and japery, while, on the new release, Winceworthy maintains a lovely mood of regret.

Ross began writing in 2006 while a music student in Ayr, and that's where he came across the band's keyboard player Gareth Robert Perrie, one of the few like-minded souls in the vicinity. ("I once walked past his room in the halls, and Gin-Soaked Boy by The Divine Comedy was blasting out, so I knew he was cool.") Slowly a larger band began to form around them, with the horns as the most recent arrivals a couple of years ago. A bit of cheerleading support from Duglas T Stewart of BMX Bandits helped gain them some notice.

"He's probably done most for us in terms of backing us up and singing our praises to other people," Ross admits. "That was a real confidence boost, and led to better gigs and meeting people who were interested in booking us. It was around that time we decided to call it a band rather than Adam Ross with backing band, because I always find that a bit boring and singer-songwritery. Although it still is effectively a singer-songwriter project, it kind of felt right to start operating as a band."

And the band in question now need two labels to keep up with Ross's output. Perhaps that's because, as he argued once in the glorious la-la-la-land of a song called Undergod: "There'd be no meaning left in song if things never went wrong/So I'm glad that I am weird, skinny, pale, can't grow a beard/The underdogs have all the tales people really want to hear."

Real Anymore is released on Olive Grove Records tomorrow. Randolph's Leap will be in session when Nicola Meighan sits in for Vic Galloway on BBC Radio Scotland tomorrow at 8.05pm