The Coral Butterfly House (Deltasonic)
What has happened to indie pop of late? Always a genre for wearing its (mostly 1960s) influences on its sleeves, the new breed of bands are not so much harking back to their idols as practically plagiarising them.
Listen to the likes of the Drums and Dum Dum Girls from the latest US crop of alternative rockers, and you'll be forgiven for thinking the NME's pioneering C86 tape of twee indie pop from 24 years ago has only just been delivered.
Now Liverpool's venerable psychedelicists The Coral are chanelling the motherlode of all indie with their sixth album; if this isn't the sound of young America, circa 1966, then I don't know what is.
Present and correct are the band's signature galloping melodies, catchy hooks and acid-fried near-meaningless lyrics. But now we have big harmonies, wig-out solos and lots of reverb. The album may as well have been called Crosby, Stills, Nash and Scouser.
Were it not that these songs had pretty much already been heard before - from the likes of Love, America, The Byrds and any other West Coast easy rockers - this would be a fine album of irrepressibly upbeat summer tracks.