It’s a pleasing, if familiar, stomp that runs through The Rapture’s dancefloor-fillers these days – hand-clap glam-stamp and shuffle shimmy across to the bar to a fine lady’s gaze. Nice, but only nice.

The title track from the New Yorkers’ latest long-player ain’t winning the quartet any converts to their strutty-punk cause, but it at least consolidates their position as the sharp-suited indie kid’s dance band of choice. This’ll fill three minutes in any club quite well, and is cut so as to make for easy mixing, with its thud-thud-tsk-tsk framework and staunchly regulated beats. No twists, no turns: just straightforward sating of a barely there appetite for more of the same. Wham and bam and straight on to the next tune.

Nice, for now, will suffice, but if The Rapture don’t pull some terror tricks on their next album, they can kiss goodbye to anyone giving a damn about their bettered-by-!!! shtick.