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Indie kids are singing in the rain
Bright outlook for the rain man
Lightning strikes and Sheffield steel
It's cruelly ironic that, after garnering tremendous praise for their Mercury-nominated self-titled debut album last year, The Invisible have barely featured in the collective conscience of the Great British record-buying public. Their relative obscurity seems to be one of those strange mismatches of talent and fame, and certainly less than their intricate, well-delivered compositions deserve.
In the economy of the internet, we pay not with our wallets but with our eyeballs, those slivers of time devoted to the glancing at adverts on web sites participating in a fragile balancing act where the content we demand for free must be paid for by attention we'd rather not give away.
Have faith, she's here to stay
Northern souls win more hearts
Cracks in a mask of confidence