Stapleton

Maybe it's just a mild affliction of the Kings Of Convenience syndrome (i.e. foreign accent makes otherwise questionable music listenable, or at the very least revitalises a once intriguing genre whose charms have since waned), but these Glaswegians, with their heart-on-sleeve sincerity, managed to hook me in more than a few times with a fresh, if slightly pedestrian, take on the whole inoffensively confessional school of diary rock. What's up with the 45-second interpolation of an instrumental Fugazi interlude though, (entitled "French For Hi-Hat," even) is anyone's guess.