Cymbient seem to be the only five-piece that know exactly where they wish they could be, laying down with their instruments of choice on a sunny beach in the Californian sun whilst a small gathering shows their appreciation.

And who are we to deny them such modest desires?

Captain Beefheart, The Byrds, Love, and The Small Faces all seem to show themselves in this admittedly far too organised melee of a minor psychedelic revival, but that becomes part of its charm.

There are no amazing modernisation tricks hidden up sleeves, no combinations of influences dragging down the music. Instead, Cymbient are bucking the trend by forming their own comeback upon the senses of the populous, cementing their place between funk laden beats, easy listening, and west coast pop without becoming a distorted mishmash of different styles.

Each track seems a delight, understated but melodic from the soft rippling guitars that permeate Truculent, blending the vocals and percussion seamlessly to project their love for music.

The methodical bass rumble that forms the rhythm of Bad Moons makes you start to slowly rock your body and wish you knew the words, but instead you find yourself harmonising lyrically with their music that is almost so wholesome it’s doubtful that anyone could find the energy to begin to hate it. Even if it’s not strictly your bag.

Mid-album, Cymbient even manage to break the continuous pop feel by inserting a dirty, funky groove reminiscent of The Stranglers. The aptly named Funky Little One stirs you from comfortable slumber, as if the ideals of American surf rock have been relocated to the Welsh shores.

In definition, they are the travelling artist’s choice- not a band to soundtrack the new revolution, but a band with enough willing energy and passion to blow any other wannabe sixties pop creation out of the water.