The third album by these posh indie-folkers may be one huge conceptual prank.
It may be completely sincere. Either way, it's completely appalling. Having ditched the lo-fi stylings of their previous two releases, the Twickenham band have thrown themselves headlong into the pseudo-soulful blandness of late Eighties soft rock like some horrific Frankenstein hybrid of Deacon Blue, John "Cougar" Mellencamp and Hothouse Flowers. Even if it's a joke, it's a joke you don't wanna hear.