Those among you who favour (in no particular order) C86, knitwear, anoraks, The Pastels, Belle & Sebastian, not talking to people and obscure French film of the 1960s – you might want to sit down, because Love Signs are going to make you very, very excitable.
So jangly it’ll make your teeth rattle, so wide-eyed and polite your gran would invite it indoors for cake, and so utterly brimming with good manners it makes you want to sit it down and give it a nice cup of tea and a biscuit before it pops off to the library. It harks back to the time of handmade fanzines, when the vast landfill of tripe that indie music became was just a rumbling threat on the horizon. It’s basically a lovely little thing, earnest and quaint and keen and sweet, bless its stripey socks.
May Satan’s fiery punk rock hordes forgive me, but the secret cardigan-wearer in me thinks it’s actually a bit good.