Three times, I have tried to write this review and twice, the computer has inexplicably eaten it. There must be a conspiracy afoot. The Arbiters of Taste don't want you to hear this record. They do not want you shaken out of your complacency of actually believing that the records you hear on your radio comprise good pop.

A crackle of static, a vocoder announcement, the hum of a drum machine sparking to life, and Fonda 500 are off into the roly-poly technicolour sunset that is 'The Colours And The Birdsongs Are One And The Same'. A lazy hip-hop beat swings like a ride on a sea-side donkey, casiotone squiggles buzz about your head like psychedelic bees, and a Boyce & Hart bubblegum melody sticks to your ears like your shoes stick to the floor of the Hull Adelphi. Imagine a Simpsons episode where Kraftwerk, The Monkees and De La Soul all drop by Moe's Tavern for an old-fashioned jam session, and then PLASTIC INFLATABLE DANCING ROBOTS WITH XYLOPHONES FOR TEETH take over the world. (No, I'm not running a fever, why do you ask?) It's warped and wonderful and warm and fuzzy and... only available as a limited edition seven inch single with a whole posse of ultra-rare B-sides? Are you CRAZY? Better get your copy soon because I'm hunting down every last one of these babies.

Taste-makers of the universe, are you listening? All pop music should be this good.