The Research

I might as well confess from the start, I love The Research. I saw them at The Social last year and fell under the spell of their sloppy magic. Much to the band's evident surprise, a politely cramped Spitz was equally entranced, reacting with cosy euphoria to everything they did.

I had a rubbish day and was feeling ill. But Wakefield's finest made it all better again with perfect pop choruses - as sweet and multicoloured as a tube of Smarties - and all the Lemsipy goodness of their fallen angel harmonies. OK now I'm going too far.

I admit, on paper, they don't sound like a great idea - a cheap Casio keyboard is integral to the sound and they kind of stumble through their set with only the vaguest approximation of being able to play their instruments.

The afore mentioned Russell croaks over the top like a wounded pigeon pecking around a deserted bus stop in the pissing rain. His two accomplices Georgie and Sarah do their best to try to keep him moving in a musical straight line, both with the air of put upon child minders.

While they teeter just inches away from a complete and unedifying shambles most of the time, they are capable of some dazzling song craft. In fact it just seems effortless.

Anyway, I'm going to pray every night to the god of pop to make them bigger than The Beatles because it would make the world a far better, though much odder, place.