It’s hard to imagine Alpinestars being anybody’s favourite band. Just like the kid you stuck in goal when you played football in the playground, they come across as altogether too keen not to upset anyone to be the slightest bit interesting. And kicking a ball straight at their stomachs would be a wry, if shameful, pleasure.

This, the third single from their 'White Noise' LP, is Alpinestars at their worst. Stumbling over a fairly pleasant riff they insist on jogging on the spot with it. For four mithering, po-faced minutes. It’s a bit frustrating and not helped at all by paper-thin synths and the morose, characterless vocals they’re reduced to using in the absence of any guest singer.

Sure enough, I’d normally say never trust any man who dresses like Tweedledum, but it’s worth mentioning that Simon Cowell would probably be vomiting green and black bile if he had to listen to this. There are much, much more interesting bands out there to devote time to. So take the ball and go play with the cool kids instead.