Ah, the sound of a bygone era - televisions were filled with static 23 hours a day and the wireless picked up little but air raid warnings and big-band jams. Puerto Muerto couldn't be more sweet at face value if they were dipped in honey and presented to you on a bed of coconut shavings and After Eight mints. Yet their gentle twanging ways disguise something slightly sinister.

Maybe it's the husband-wife dual vocals that do it, or just the duo's grasp of traditional ditties (b-side 'Walking Boss' here, for example), but somehow Puerto Muerto summon ghosts of the past as easily as you or I would the pizza boy during a Simpsons ad break. There's a creepin' something in these songs, shadowy and not of this time or place. It's O' Brother... torn from the silver screen.

But if you're gonna go, why not go down with this 'Crimson Beauty'? Chances are she's been there already...