Poignant pop strivings here from the Melbourne’s finest exports since they threw wobbly-chinned tuba-playing god-botherer (but obviously an all round good egg) Harold Bishop in the sea, as Sodastream deliver two tracks that showcase the stylistic breadth of their oeuvre.

Like, get this: ’Seasons On A Slope’ comes on all Donovan (Hates) Jazz, and waves toward The Beautiful South on its downy journey toward something that is horrifically close to Lionel Ritchie’s _’Hello’ - though it steps away as soon as it realises how close to disaster it’s come…

And then of course, the Aussie tasslebrains remind us that joy through summery popsicle jangly 60s skippiness is nothing to be ashamed of, with the dead-on-3-minutes grin of ’Without My Echo’.

Listening to this is like breaking up with someone you pretty much ended up hating, then suddenly smiling ‘cause you’re single; Sodastream's stuff is made up, it would seem, of carefree clauses in the life sentence of love.