Scurrilous rumours that the Head have returned to writing proper songs like wot they used to are entirely substantiated by this little brooder. “Just because you feel it doesn’t mean it’s there,” Thom moans, like the ghost of a man hanging around trying to remember what it was he wanted to so tell the living. A minor masterpiece of restraint, the cats are kept in the bag until well after the third minute, when Jonny comes squalling back like one who’s been banished to the wings for the last five years. Funny that.