The Blue Aeroplanes, an English pop group, write songs, my friends, which are taller than the combined heights of all our houses and sexier than blindfolds. They're a prolific bunch, usually good for at least one LP a year and they produce and toss them at us almost casually, like a conjurer's two pence piece from the dirty ears of a child. And if all this wasn't enough, they have a great name, especially the Aeroplanes bit.

'Beatsongs', the Aeroplanes' umpteenth album is their best by, oh about thirty-six thousand feet. There are twelve songs on it, eleven of which could easily be described as mosaics of smiling belly buttons and one of which was written by Paul Simon. 'Huh' is first and is a long way better than rather fine if only because if somebody you don't particularly like comes up to you in the street and enquires after the name of the opening track on the new Blue Aeroplanes record, you can simply answer *Huh* and they will probably go away.

'Yr Own World' was their last single and in a perfect universe etc, etc, etc. 'Angelwoods' is a finely turned out comrade for 'What It Is' from their last record. 'My Hurricane' features guitars, in its opening salvo, that sound at least as if they were played in churches and possibly by one or two of the more talented of them. 'Jack Leaves And Back Spring' sounds a bit like that song by The Pale that goes, *I am the butterfly, I wear my fathers' clothes*.

About half of this haunts, lilts and tickles while the other half will have you jumping up and down and around your room, going Boeing Boeing Boeing (sorry) and generally doing horrendous damage to your spine while scaring the cats of Mister Frank next door.

The Blue Aeroplanes are a turnaround jump shot and pleasures heretofore unknown. Moon, wings, the usual. Shaeroflot with them.