There is a gentle rumbling, rippling of bass guitar next to the steady step of snares and leisurely trips of the bass drums. McCombs enters with fragile indie croon and proceeds to recall a road trip in California. Despite hearing that he "was hard-pressed for action" and "got a job cleaning toilets at a nightclub in Baltimore", there is no trace of an earnest cue for sympathy.

The story is soft and romantic, even plush, supported by breezy 'doo-wah's and echoed 'oooo's and 'aaahh's that build the unabated tenderness of the single. Its visceral effect is a boon and the mind wanders as if cruising with Paul Simon and Chrissie Hynde across American plains.

It's beguiling stuff, devoid of ostentation and refreshing. We'll very much look forward to his new album Dropping The Writ, due in February.

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