Pick of the class of the NME's C86, the Lobsters were an altogether different proposition from the rest. They were not twee. Nor were they one of those jangly indie bands whose main purpose in life was to sound like a pale imitation of The Byrds. More for them was the guitar tumble of the Flamin' Groovies, honed down into three minute bursts of off-kilter pop songs whose closest relations are the old gems of the Only Ones. The guitars howl/bite as they should and the vocals yelp their acerbic imprint on spangling melodies, which rush at you head-long with a verve not seen since early Scottish Eighties outings. Situated quite splendidly somewhere between trash, thrash, pop and jangle.