Of course, anyone can be ramshackle, the word most often attributed to this Madrid four-piece. Anyone can pay scant attention to tuning their guitar, strum it at the slacker rhythm of their choosing and allow anyone in their band to have a bash at vocals, seemingly as and when they fancy it. But 99% of the time, they will be utterly unlistenable. Hinds are great because of two crucial factors. They have bags of tunes – opener Garden is loaded with 60s soul hooks, for instance – and bags of charm, adopting the clatter of C86 but updating it with a riotous rush of freewheeling, girl-gang energy. It puts them at odds with the bland, blokey indie rock scene of recent times, and that’s a fight they seem to cherish. “I need you to feel like a man,” they instruct on Bamboo, before adding: “I know you’re not hungover today, you’re classifying your cassettes.”
