Little Man Tate


Hey Little Sweetie

Adding a vague whiff of synth to their uninspired indie-by-numbers may be Little Man Tate’s competitive way of delivering a little robotic fart into the face of Sheffield’s other, now defunct, post-Monkeys hangers-on Milburn – but the fact is their dull new direction is only as daring as poking a turd with a stick and equally without purpose. Their game is over: the sooner these chirpy philistines give up, the better.