Oh, this is just divine. Imagine Neil Young laid off the cranky pills just long enough to recapture the glory of his '60s masterpiece 'After The Gold Rush' and you're halfway there. Ex-Thrush Hermit Plaskett has a charming cracked vocal that floats around the higher registers, coming off like some gleeful hybrid of Young, The Flaming Lips' Wayne Coyne and The Band's tragic Richard Manuel. If that hasn't sold you on 'em yet, take NME's assurance that this gleaming EP is the perfect antidote to the day-in-day-out rainy misery of a British spring. Pure sunshine on vinyl, if you like. And you will.
Stevie Chick
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