They don't sulk, whine, moan like beaten bitches, wear black, take smack or come from Manchester. Yet Ash rule. They are geniuses. Gods maybe. OK, that's probably going just a little bit too far. Demi-gods, then. And, in the last few years, love-lorn Tim Wheeler and his gangly gaggle of perpetual adolescents have hit a vein of pure gold. 'Pet Sounds' meets the [a][/a]. Pop so pukingly pure it makes you hallucinate thousands of fluffy puppies strewing a sunlit park with miles upon mile of powder-pink toilet tissue. And this taster for their 'Intergalactic Sonic 7"s' greatest-hits is more of the same brilliant, bouncy, beautiful bollocks. And not buying it will probably give you cancer.
Steven Wells
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