As our time was coming to a close, the band had a live 'acoustic' radio session booked with a local LA station WOXY. They went to a studio to record three tracks first thing Friday morning. They didn't like doing actual acoustic performances, so they'd planned a special stripped-back set for the occasion.

This is them doing a little mumbled improv run-through of 'Let's Go Surfing', un-mic'd up. Connor's drumming on his knees. Pretty adorable.

They played three songs to an enraptured and ecstatic audience of four. Me, Aimee, the radio show chap and the sound engineer. This is 'Submarine'.

The show wanted them to record some 'idents' for their jingles. Jacob refused to. The rest of them agreed, as you can see, a little reluctantly.

The rest of the band had to catch a flight back to New York, but Jon and Connor had to stay to finish mixing the album with Jason out in Riverside. Before they got back to work, we went for some brunch at Swingers, the diner next door to our LA hotel. With Thanksgiving coming up, we had a fittingly themed chat to wrap thing up.

Day two was even more like a movie.

They were booked to play an outside show at UCSB - University of California, Santa Barbara - at 12noon. It wasn't part of a festival or anything, just a random show, on a break, as people went to lessons - we didn't even know where outside it would be. Aimee reasured everyone it was a normal occurence.

This is us arriving. Everyone there seemed to travel by bicycle. It was a bit like Center Parcs. I'm not going to lie, there were some in our midst who were questioning the gig's chances of being a banger.

We walked to the yard area where they were going to be playing. I was trying to keep spirits up by saying cheery things like, "It looks like a Greek amphitheatre."

There were some protesting students on a march. Fghting "for justice, and an education".

The college radio guys wanted to do an interview. Connor had discovered he'd lost something to do with his high-hat on arrival and was driving round town with Aimee trying to frantically find a replacment, so I was left to fill in.

Things were running to the wire. The band were informed that they were contractually obliged to play for 50 minutes or they wouldn't get paid, despite usually playing for 35. They were also informed that due to sound regulations the set had to end by 1pm sharp. At 11.55am, there was still no sign of Conor or Aimee.

Despite a relatively underwelming turn-out and over-arching cyncism from the band, the set turned out really fun. It felt a bit like a scene from Heathers, or something.

When they came to the end of the set, they were still running four minutes shy of the contracted 50. One of the university's roadie committee - no joke, this exists - ran down and asked for one more song. Problem was they'd exhausted every song they knew how to play. So, as a finale, they stuck on Saint Etienne and had a little dance.

Next up was their NME shoot. We all went back to our Santa Barbara hotel and got dolled up in preparation. Much discussion of appropriate/clashing sweaters ensued...

As you can see the shoot was a total drag. One of those really gruelling slogs that you just have to grit your teeth and plough through, keeping an eye on the prize.

You don't just learn a sultry indie swagger like that, that's something you're born with.

I went to California last Wednesday to join The Drums as they went about three busy days in the winter sun, on their way to becoming the most talked about new band on the planet.

Jacob (guitar, tamborine) and Adam (guitar) picked me up with their manager Aimee from LAX airport. We drove straight from the airport to a town about an hour outside of Los Angeles called Riverside. There, Jon (vocals) and Connor (drums) were working on the drum tracks for their upcoming album with producer Jason Martin. En route we worked our way from A to F of the band's encyclopedia of twee '80s indie. When we got there we discovered that Jason lives in a special gated community, it was not like anything I'd really seen before.

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Ready to start feeling all gooey about homegrown grassroots indie? I know, it's been a while, right?

Frankie And The Heartstrings are the excellent Sunderland band who've been putting the lead back in the pencil of proper indie fans up and down this fair nation - a yellsome clatter here, a horsed Geordie swoon there.

Hey, Punka!

We were the first ones to do something on them back in March, so as to mark our loyalties, they gave us something back.

You know how all the idiots and fools 'blah' on about how these days the internet and downloading has devalued the concept of purchasing and actually owning music, and destroyed the collectability-factor in record buying? Well, lets not tell them nonces about this'un, ey?

Here's the latest in F&THS' series of limited releases on their own Popsex imprint. Cept yes it's a free download file- of various exclusive goodies specially constructed for NME readers. Think this is the coolest thing we've given away.

Click here to download Popsex 011

I immediately warmed to Sharks because our passport's bare the same place of birth. A small town in between Warwick and Coventry called Royal Leamington Spa. It's been famous for few things in music. My most residing memory of its link with planet pop being in the mid to late Nineties, when people still bought records, you used to get a CD-shaped mail-order form in nearly every CD single to send away 'for more information on this artist'. The address of all of them was one depot in Leamington Spa. It always triggered a little pang of pride in my deepest cockles whenever I saw that address, though I wondered why so many bands lived in such a sleepy little province in the midlands. Subsequently the biggest, and in fact, only band to have emerged from there was Nizlopi. Who oddly I actually once saw support Christina Aguilera. Sorry, I'm just thinking aloud now...

Anyways, Sharks are here to instill a new bite -arf, arf- to the sleepy midland's outpost. They're one of these punk bands with heady everyman rock'n'roll ambition that outstrips their 'rawk' canon, in a similar vein to Exter's Computers, but with less need for glycerin and honey drinking post-shows. They're on tour with Gallows soon, and that's a fitting pairing. Cept Sharks are rather more fond of slick Brylcream quiffs, and Nick Cave-dewlling croons. They also just covered a Wedding Present song. Which they gave us to give you.

Sharks - 'Brassneck'

Elizabeth Sankey is editor of Platform. Each week she’ll browse the internet's dustiest of corners, and trawl the dingiest of London’s venues to find new music for your listening pleasure.

When I was first asked to do this, I got really excited. “What?! I get to speak to that one from the Sugababes (mark II)? OMG!”
Sadly it wasn’t Keisha, the feisty little number, but America’s latest “alternative” female pop star, Ke$ha (don't you dare forget that dollar sign) who had just vaulted to the top of our very own top 4o hit-parade. For those of you who don't know she's a 22 year-old singer who prides herself on irreverent lyrics, messy blonde hair, ripped black leggings and Jack Daniels before breakfast. I rang her up to find out her top 5 metal bands, and chat about the time she broke into Prince’s house.

How are you Ke$ha?
Good. I’m in L.A. at this hotel, and they put me in the ‘Scarface’ room. The machine gun from the movie is on the wall. It’s kinda cool, really gross and cheap.

Is there fake blood on the walls?
Maybe. Probably.

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