Echo and the Bunnymen are fast becoming the Rolling Stones of the indie scene, still writing and performing decades after they've exceeded their natural lifespan. Unfortunately, just like Mick Jagger and company, the moody Liverpudlians' albums are becoming increasingly pale shadows of former glories. There's always at least a couple of decent tracks, but also a lot of gloomy sludge that only the most devoted fans could want to hear more than once. Then, just as you're about to give up in frustration, Will Sergeant's guitar picks out a skyscraping tune and Ian McCulloch croons a glorious ballad that tugs at the heartstrings and reminds you why they, not U2 were the 80s band that everyone tipped for world domination. As brilliant - and frustrating - as ever.