The Lollies first song of the evening is the gleeful ‘Susan Is a Lesbian Now’. Dancing myself back from distraction (the keyboard player has on a pair of truly fantastic black/red spangly boots), I concentrate, and realise this is probably where the Dandy Warhols comparisons have sprung from. (If you don’t wanna do heroin, why not decide maybe that you’re gay?) And just looking at the stage-set up – three girls and one boy on drums – can bring on a ‘Kenickie Alert’. Which is in part justifiable, in that theirs is a girl-powered spiky power-pop written with a loving eye for the ordinary little details (paean to Waitrose, anyone?), and, ooh gosh, a sense of humour. But they’re not from Sunderland. Far across the ocean from it. And are far closer in sound – if not spirit – to the fantastic Girl’s Groups of the 50’s and 60’s. Which makes them easily and infectiously poptastic in a way most bands seem to’ve forgotten the recipe for. The Lollies like cute boys and the Shang-Ri Las. And yup, you can tell. (They write lots of songs about cute boys. Songs are here dedicated to cute boys. And to their soon-to-be-married friends in the crowd. But mostly the cute boys.) But beyond the musical dexterity with which they wield the universal power of the snappy chorus, you should fall in love with this band because they cover Travis’ plaintive ‘Why Does It Always Rain On Me?’ – no wait, there’s more – and turn it into a ram-a-lama-a-ding-dong up-tempo bounce-along classic. Rock and hand-clapping roll...