When disenchantment runs high, when city life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be — when you’re forking out seven quid for a pint, shivering in a queue for a club night you don’t really care about, getting ripped off by landlords over blu tac stains, and squeezing in studio sessions around a relentless 9-5 schedule, there is only one logical response: fun. Home Counties always manage to balance the duality of lyrical frankness and musical buoyancy with gusto. With an eye for the day-to-day, all-too relatable details of crap modern living, yet – coupled with an ear for hook-filled, grin-inducing melodies – the pay-off is one riddled in joy rather than despair.
