As scenesters go, Sheffield sextet Pink Grease are right up there with the best (or worst - depending on what floats your boat) of them. More renowned for putting on clubnights than putting out records, and more recognisable by their Oxfam chic clothes than any celebrity status, to say Pink Grease haven't exactly set the world alight would be an understatement.

It might come as a surprise then, particularly to those who've witnessed their energetic live shows but always felt they lacked one key ingredient - a tune - that 'The Pink G.R.Ease' is possibly the filthiest three minutes of splatterfunk disco punk to hit the spot since Electric Six's 'Danger! High Voltage'.

The chorus simply reminds one and all that Pink Grease are gonna make you sweat, and as I sit here wiping the salty perspiration from my brow and aimlessly drying the stains from under the armpits of my bright green Carharrt shirt, the only decent thing left to do is remove my pants before the convection meter reaches melting point.

Pheww.