At least Squeeze knew the difference…

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Iain Mew: Since The Vaccines are the only New New Rock Revolution Guitars Are Back Guys Really This Time band to have actually got anywhere in recent years, I suppose it’s not surprising that the next wave of cool cats are looking to them for clues. In this case, that means taking the heroic non-committal lyrical stance of “No Hope” and extending it to an equally non-committal musical stance. A bit of organ, a bit of “I’m a Believer”, a bit of “Don’t Look Back Into the Sun”, lots of slurring and nothing as uncool as a coherent tune. Luckily even an NME single of the year doesn’t seem to be helping them succeed. Looking forward to when they get sued by Swizzels Matlow and have to change their name to Viva Violets.
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Alfred Soto: Organ lines this sumptuous don’t need a Paul Banks wannabe getting ponderous over them. Rolling toms? So 2002.
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Patrick St. Michel: Turns out an organ can’t cover up boring songwriting.
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Brad Shoup: Velvets & Spiritualized: subtraction by addition, surely? The organ lists between its decreed points, there’s the obligatory mention of the sun that no one believes, it ends with a debauchedly romantic chorus. Even the ululation is a delightful relic from 40 years ago.
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Anthony Easton: This is convinced of it’s own technical skill (which it has), it refuses the audience, and works a little too close to the twee nostalgia the band name and the song title suggests. 
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Daniel Montesinos-Donaghy: I was done with this by the point the Farfisa organ gave way to Sam Fryer’s monotone yowl, but the nail in the coffin came when Fryer whispers the word “cool…” — only to be answered, somewhere in a cornier universe altogether, by a 70s cartoon version of cool-by-committee that completes the phrase in a squeaky voice: “…cats!” Hoo boy.
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Scott Mildenhall: “So the group had made it at last. Ambitions realised, and they went from strength to strength. Fans and critics joined in their appreciation of their highly original sound, and cookery columns followed. But one morning, they woke up, and they weren’t popular anymore. The arrival on the scene of 500 new bands sounding exactly the same had destroyed their credibility. The press lost interest, the label dropped them. And the manager… disappeared… with the money.”
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Jonathan Bradley: The wan organ filtering through the murk like pale sunlight too chilly to warm you up is bad enough, but why would they try to make such misery sound joyful?
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Ian Mathers: Well, at least it lives down to the song title.
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