The Selector 5th Birthday

At the beginning, the songs just aren't there. I'm hearing a bounty of good ideas, executed skillfully and passionately, but it's not enough. Bits of Radiohead, Massive Attack even, float by in a mist of reverb. It's pretty underwhelming, even with a few hyperactive saxophone solos thrown in.

And then a seachange: 'Through My Windowpane', a ghost train staffed by Ukranian body builders, pounding and sighing, finally capitalises on their creepiness quotient before they Play The Hits.

'Made Up Lovesong #43' is good and all, but in the scheme of things little more than a summery pallette cleanser - it's 'Trains To Brazil' that provides this writer with perhaps the nost orgasmic musical moment of this year. The emotionally draining, ecstatic melancholy demonstrates the band's tightest, most essential songwriting and, whilst so nostalgic for school days and the swing era, hints at how entirely extraordinary Guillemots might yet be.

Anything following it should be doomed to seeming tepid, but closer 'São Paulo' presents a pleasant chance to reflect on what has just come and gone, before launching into a carnivalish percussive frenzy of similarly jaw-slackening impact. Guillemots are a freakish pop group, with a million elements that you could turn your nose up at. But have a little faith and they will astound you.