Far too much excitement for most of us, really.
One-thousand copies only, on green vinyl inevitably. Much like the poor, scratchy indie-pop is always with us, and all of those with a predilection for Miffy the rabbit, ’80s cartoons and screechy girl singers could do a lot worse than investigate The Jetsons. They’re from King’s Heath in Birmingham, and with this petulant, purring rattle of a debut single they’re placing themselves firmly between [a]Bis[/a] and (shudder) Daisy Chainsaw in the pop pantheon. The tune shifts unnervingly from plodding Phil Spector ballad through squawky guitar peaks to the casual abandon of a chorus which wouldn’t have been out of place on a Sleeper record, if any of them had been any good. Far too much excitement for most of us, really.