I'll be honest: I have no idea who Gravenhurst are. (Oh, do some research – Ed.) For all I know or care, they could be a two-piece from Scotland or an octet from Outer Heaven. This could be their debut release or a fifth single from an umpteenth album; a new start or simply a rehash of a regularly churned-out concept.

But this lack of knowledge is not rooted in ignorance, and nor does it stem from a dearth of motivation. I simply don't want to know, such is the romantic, nostalgic nature of 'Trust'. You see, at a time when you can find out everything there is to know about a band and download their entire back catalogue with the click of a couple of buttons,_ 'Trust' _longs to be heard underneath a snug cover of static, without an introduction. So that when you hear it again your pulse races and you listen attentively for minutes afterwards, scribbling down the band’s name and brief history on the back of a receipt or any book at hand.

You may find reference points to Belle And Sebastian, or even The Carpenters, in ‘Trust’ but Gravenhurst build to a much more solemn and relaxed result. Those buried deeper in the underground will find much closer comparisons can be drawn to Galaxie 500 or Low, and beyond that The Insect Guide, Art Of Fighting and Two Dollar Guitar. These moments – these echoes – are fleeting, yet not much changes throughout the four minutes 'Trust' fills so wonderfully.

The same breathy male voice sighs across it and the same chords are plucked slowly and awkwardly. The drum beat never picks up pace, and barely changes. Any differences from verse to chorus are barely noticeable. Still, though, there is enough to ensure that nothing outside of the song particularly matters while it plays. Ignorance may not be bliss, but sometimes it’s good to look upon a person’s art with an uncertain eye.