All you really need to know to wet your whistle is that The Young Knives  hail from Leicestershire, they dress different to look exactly the same and, as yet, have not hit the big time (i.e. they are not shit).

Meat fodder apart, are The Young Knives really any good? We went along to a little gathering of theirs at Fibbers in York to find out.

Long story short? Yes. Yes, they are.

Being totally fresh to The Young Knives, this reviewer did find them to be an acquired taste. What your Dad might call "a lot of noise," in fact. Remembering how any of the tracks went five minutes after hearing them was impossible. This was not catchy stuff, nor supposed to be.

If you like sweaty, pretend-angry musicians with a healthy dose of humour and no regard for becoming bedroom pin-ups, then The Young Knives will rock your basement.

You can’t help but find yourself drilled into their sound. Live is where it’s at for this band. We cannot imagine airplay (Zane Lowe or not) will ever do them justice.

The Young Knives are as bad as watching someone wanking over their mother. They should be called The Fat Cunts.

…That’s how some (admittedly hilarious) pussball described the band on the Young Knives website forum. We would always encourage you to make up your own mind, though in our book a comment like that is a recommendation.

House of Lords, drummer Oliver Askew and singer Henry Dartnall make up the party. Give The Young Knives a go sometime soon.

If you still can’t find the way, consider that the band are very much like customised Levis – not skinny indie 5O1’s, cut-off short-shorts for the ladies.

[review by Chris Laverty]