Klaxons

If there’s one thing that the hideous new Olympics logo has taught us, it’s that you don’t want to piss off the epileptics. Klaxons may be about to find this out with the retina-scorching sleeve to their new single, which is capable of inducing fits from 500ft away. The single itself, however, is anything but Day-Glo – it dispenses with most of the sirens and neon-blasted attitude of their new rave beginnings and instead essays something really rather delightful and moving, which is not exactly what you expect to be saying about such habitual reprobates.

Old people may notice that the track is a cover version of the mid-’90s ‘classic’ by Grace – a cheesy staple anyone who’s ever spent any time in a Mediterranean sex’n’sangria resort will remember fondly – and as such may expect this, and indeed any, version not to work in the least. But, by God, it does, slowed imperceptibly and shot through with a genuine sense of longing, some vast synths and pummelling near-industrial drums. There are a few sirens in there too, obviously. But not many. All in all, it takes a middling rave tune from a bygone era and turns it into a city-levelling snowball of big, momentous dance-rock – and just in time for festival season too, when people are casting their spiritual nets wide for summer anthems. Well, they can haul in those nets, because they’ve just caught a monster.