The quiet sections of these three songs are pleasant, even evoking comparisons to PJ Harvey at one point, as a rich female voice escalates up the vocal scale, while clean guitars are played ‘efficiently,’ but you can imagine the guitar, if it had a voice, complaining of dizziness and a sense déjà vu. But then it gets heavy, and like we do with Sugacoma, we get that icky, put-on death metal roaring. But although it’s very heavyweight, even thuggish, in its mental outlook, this EP is also cowardly.

You can imagine Stabb being the kind of band who come up with loads of big ideas before their first ever gig at the Friday evening school disco, and end up playing covers because they think their friends might not like it. Hardly a band to discuss the rock’n’roll dream over a pint with.