Laurel Collective, The Borderline, London

Hysterical girls screaming in the front row, enthusiastic fans chanting the band’s name (until one member explains they’re not a football club), tremendous pogoing and Bjork in the audience: in case you didn’t know, the Laurel Collective are about to be big.

Somewhere between The Shins, The Go! Team and Black Kids, they deliver hits-to-be, ecumenical mixtures of rock, hip-hop and pop that could appeal to most. They’re a nice little machine made to churn out pleasant songs - it’s nothing to write home about, but a good show after all; they’re happy to be on stage (it’s their album launch party), happy to make the audience happy. Everything is wonderful and we all love each other.

The six hipsters keep the (rather frantic) rhythm throughout the show, the drummer never ever taking a break. It’s the kind of rock ‘n roll that makes you sweat, swing your hips and go reasonably crazy. Of course the lyrics are somewhat honeyed and too romantic to sound sincere, but what is truly sincere is their will to make you dance and clap your hands. And that’s good.

It’s good, also, to sing along to their nice ‘padada’ refrains, which come around often and are as sweet as only pop can be. When they turn to rap, it’s well done, with nothing rebellious, but a good sense of slam, of jam, of speech. And they are also able to go towards the verge of techno with some Daft Punk sounds at the beginning of one song.

Laurel Collective are like a summertime love, the kind that makes you enjoy the present, even if you know they’re not the one to brighten your future.