Ranting commentary full of Fallesque goodness with freaky, neat, rhythm and rhyme. Streams of semi-spoken ejaculate that’ll be on everyone’s lips this summer: “God is dead so I listen to Radiohead” – Suburban Nietzsche Freak – and “Let guilt be our teacher and let love be the lesson we learn… Stop worrying and love yourself” – Sunshine Corporation (Palo Alto). Wise words from Norwich, the most Godless city in the UK*.

Underpinned by insistent boy/girl vocal trading and interjection, abrasive guitar action, big basslines and upfront, forceful, visually eccentric primeval drumming, Fuck Dress pick up where Passing Clouds left off, thanks to recycling three-quarters of the band Melody Maker tipped as a Next Big Thing for 1993.

Moving on and firmly focusing on “the concerns of a middle age man [Grant] living in a provincial town at the start of the 21st century”, including much about the tedium of
office work, Fuck Dress have already tempted Tom Robinson to give them a spin on
6 Music. You too will be seduced by their silver/grey seven-inch debut, which gets its NR ONE Records’ singles’ club release in what promises to be a steamy, hot summer: slip in to your Fuck Dress, you’ve pulled.

*Census 2001