I am too young to have been caught up in punk's year zero ideals, the musical scorched earth policy that reviled anything pre-1976. When I heard the terrible folk rock of It's Jo And Danny I wondered if they had a point - stale sweat in Arran jumpers and spilt real ale.

This 2:04 of musical hell for me. Ever so polite guitars, fiddle and border pipes dance naked around a bonfire. The vocals sound like a librarian in the thrall of Iolo Morganwg druid's prayer. Hippies with unkempt beards and the smell of mung beans on their breath.

It's worrying there as at least three LP's worth of this stuff out there. The culprits Jo Bartlett and Danny Hagan live in isolation in a Welsh farm house. I wished they had stayed there. Now I know why Primal Scream wanted to Kill All Hippies.