Isn’t it odd how, when a new band get a bit of money with which to make a "Proper Demo", one of the first things they seem to think is “Let’s print the press releases on parchment!”. Don’t you think that’s odd? I think it’s odd. The Inklings’ press release is written on such thick paper that you could probably waterproof your house with it.

Anyway, noise; The Inklings are from Birmingham and they promise to put words and melodies back on the map by means of the ethic of quality songwriting and performance. Which are laudable aims, but sadly The Inklings’ chosen modus operandi doesn’t do much for me. There’re good bits – interesting drum intros, weird warped guitar effects, the odd moments of ear-catching disassembled structure. But then it reverts into thin, stretched noise, the excessive amount of empty space between and behind the notes making far more of an impression than the incongruously stadium-rock guitars, the painedly earnest vocals and the occasional distant thuds of the drums.

And it’s so clean. I do my best not to allow my predilection for warped and evil noise to prejudice me against bands which hail from the opposite end of the mood spectrum, I truly do, but this is more wholesome than the Virgin Mary sewing samplers on a wet Sunday afternoon. And the thinness of sound and the fundamental School Prefect decency of it all combine into music with about as much substance as that coffee you get at festivals which I’m convinced they make so bastard weak on purpose in a deliberate and cynical ploy to force you to buy three or four cups in order to get the caffeine kick which your average hungover festival-goer so desperately needs. Minimal effect, maximum drudge.