They write like men putting coats on , halfway out of the door, ready to take on the world; but with one arm uncoated, one foot in the house, firmly rooted in the local. The best songwriters can talk about tradition without it being nostalgia. They dig into their own past, their own working-class South Leeds childhood, and show it off to the world, shake in the faces of an audience who may think Leeds has always been about Hugo Boss and Harvey Nicks. They take the ordinary and make it extraordinary. Down the local, to Elland Road, to the shops.

Songs for those people who forget what life is like for those other people. That rare thing nowadays, a genuine working class voice, full of expectation and doom, anger and hope; a writing voice born not from some caricature soap-opera dumbed-down focus-group. They write songs designed to make you think about the world, not the world of glossy Sunday supplements and luxury recipes but a world of mundane work and the tearstained euphoria of love.