Booooring. Sorry Little Flames, but it is. Starting off well enough in a squall of mammoth ogre guitar death sound – it’s all downhill from there. “Your hollow face made strangers of your eyes”, coos Eva Petersen (presumably the crew’s giggles at her rather, er, lacklustre poetry were left on the cutting room floor). Like Howling Bells if they had grown up working in All Bar One rather than feeding vampire bats at the centre of Earth.
The Little Flames