Fresh sounds conjured up from the Leiduh/O-Town interface, a weird no mans land of parks, bad snack bars and old mental institutions. Titles like ‘Gas Station Cigs Girl’ may conjure up awful Arctic Monkeys flashbacks (you know, lots of kitchen sink lyrics, choppy workmanlike guitars and lumpen key changes). Luckily we get colourful bugged out soundscapes that float around with the aid of the odd guitar lick that comes straight out of the Robin Guthrie “here are the guitar bits that were too floaty for Victorialand” scrapbook. This is lush slacker pop, not too far away from Yuko Yuko at their most horizontal but with sonic about turns that remind this old sod of Prefab Sprout or Aztec at their most radio friendly. There’s no post-modern existential angst here though, the last time I saw this lot live the drummer couldn’t sit on his stool properly due to the amount of ‘erb he’d ingested. “It’s international weed day tomorrow”was the excuse. Practice makes perfect.

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