The Sundays hibernate for decades, then come along with a pile of wispy indie and everyone falls over in gratitude even though THEY ARE POO. The woman has hair that all girls who didn't like Bros had to have (haystack with fringe) and one of those quirky (i.e. actually extremely unpleasant) voices that he only gets away with because everyone fancies her (see also 'Sexy Saff' from Republica and her with the washboard stomach out of No Doubt). Well I don't. Played by drunk people at three in the morning when trying to impress the opposite sex with their sensitivity. Pah! Quick burst of PJ Harvey's all you need, believe you me, and at least she doesn't sound like she eats clouds for breakfast. =
1 out of 5 stars