How do you set about reviewing Christmas singles? It's easy enough to swat at the plague of novelty songs that this time of year annually spawns, of course. But what happens when they're flanked by an artiste so drenched in the bitter-sweet lighting of old music halls and faded wallet-photos as Holly Golightly?

Na, I ain't gonna be Scrooge. This single has production that understands the familiarity and dumb warmth of a family Christmas, and Holly's hots for nostalgia allow this track to carry off its reworked Tom Heinl-isms effortlessly. Hi-hats jangle like rusty bells, Golightly's tonsil texture is pure nut-roasted, honey-sweet comfort; and to cap it all the whole thing's sat on top of that bass which plods along comically leaving circus elephant shaped footprints wherever it goes. I don't know why, but it still gives me that same idiot grin.

B-side 'Hear My Call, Here' finds Miss Golightly back in the groove that attracts adjectives like 'slinky' and 'dripping'; sounding as it does like a long lost relative despondently mewling for help through an ether of whirling medolica and close-season surf guitars. Girl group lusciousness to heat lonely nights at a time of year when everyone's curtains are closed.