There’s a hoary old cliché when describing bands to say that they play every song/note like it’s the last one they’ll ever play. Milburn, and especially singer Joe Carnall, come much closer to playing every song like it’s their first – enthusiastic, determined and wide-eyed.

It’s disarmingly unpretentious. No namby-pamby cooler-than-thou posing and daft haircuts for them. They get up, play their bouncing brand of pile-driving power pop (the band as tight as a pair of Sta-Prests) then get off again. They would have the air of four blokes in a pub, only they don’t look old enough to get served yet.

There is an obvious fondness for those other purveyors of frill-free English rock, The Jam, in their buttoned up Fred Perrys and guitarist Tom Rowley’s brutally trebly Rickenbacker sounds. But rather than coming over like dusty revivalists (or even worse like The Ordinary Boys), they throw themselves into the influence with the infectious zeal of the newly converted.

What comes out is passionate, direct, a bit rough round the edges and very refreshing. Exactly what a teenage rock & roll band should be like.