High

Think of all the indie bands that you can remember from the last decade, bad to mediocre to absolute classic, and throw them all together in an indistinguishable aural stew and you're kind of close to High, the debut album from London six-piece, Southern Fly.

They don't get off to a bad start with 'Monkey Tale' - with its twangy guitars and chantey choruses, it's really quite promising. Unfortunately, from here on in, it just reads like a retread of the Manchester scene, from the Stone Roses-influenced 'Do Ya?' to the Charlatans-ish jingley, anthemic 'Maybe It's The Right Time'.

The problem with Southern Fly is that there just isn't room for any more middle of the road local bands. The market has been well and truly saturated and High doesn't even attempt to corner a new and varied niche of the old formula. They are to '90s indie rock/pop what Ocean Colour Scene are to The Who except without the somewhat forgiving 30 year gap.

Ironically, Southern Fly have done the hard work for me in the lyrics of 'For Real', " . . . you could be a diamond/or maybe a stone/you could be the real thing/or maybe a clone . . . "

They said it.