Ever wondered why exactly it is Scotland and Sweden do twee indie-pop so well? My theory is they spend so much time with layers and layers of clothes on that their privates finally become forgottens and their desires are sublimated into sickening picnic fantasies consummated by games of tiddlywinks.

Sorry to play the vindictive raincloud to their 'infectious brand of sunny optimism' and all, but if Stockholm's Those Dancing Days are flying the kites, I’m sending the lightning bolts, ‘Hitten’ being a neutered slice of Motown that’s tame and stilted where Camera Obscura or The Concretes occasionally make the heartstrings soar.

But don’t let me cloud your judgement, arf arf et cetera.