This is partly the result of one too many wine-fuelled rock reminiscence evening with Dev Sherlock, and partly because, for some reason, when the sun emerges in springtime, those heady awkward teenage feelings flood back.
With hindsight, one of Britpop’s few redeeming features was the weird collective willingness of the UK’s populace to embrace fey Indie jangle-pop as the de facto pop music.
The inevitable Britpop crash killed off these waif-like bands, who, having finally summoned up the courage to stand up, were the first to get mown down by the brutal Scythe Of Uncool.
This was an untimely death: there is always room for this music as there is always an audience of similarly-minded, disconnected teens – of which I was also one.
It is, of course, important to apologise immediately for associating This Many Boyfriends with Britpop, the leprosy of musical movements.
Still, they would have fitted in perfectly, whether they like it or not: Starling is a pristine, delicate and near-perfect fey-jangle-pop song of the sort that gets awkward boys and girls dancing in their ill-fitting clothes.
The song has a verse-chorus-verse structure, laconic vocals and even a brief – fun- guitar solo. It is the product of another time and yet the product of all times. Just look at them: they fit their own musical bill perfectly.
If it doesn’t even reach cult status, then we finally have a metric on which to prove that life is unfair. Excellent.