From the echo chambers of a gothic cathedral, distant choral voices ricochet through the cloisters, cluster in the crypt, swarm and swell before shooting out through the medieval stained glass windows. Setting off in a steep upward trajectory, ‘You Said’ is a flashlight beam into furthest outer-space, peeking sunlight through gaps in the cloud, aeroplane trails across a dark horizon. At the very same time, this both sounds massive – an orb of nebulous guitar and honey-dripping vocals, and also microscopically small – just a soap bubble, pretty, but destructed on contact.

Maybe this simultaneously expansive and tiny sound is because of the song’s structure: just under four minutes of hooks and vaporous, veiled harmonies, that could so easily be extended into a ten-minute vertiginous journey. As it is, this makes four minutes seem like an abrupt thirty seconds. I realise that good things never last, but I wish my turntable would play this for just a little longer.