Cherry-sweet, razor-sharp melodies. Nothing complicated, nothing fancy just cherry-sweet, razor-sharp melodies. A lineage that certainly takes in Buzzcocks, Pastels, all those wonderful female Seattle groups turn of the new millennia and wonderful female Continental groups some time in the late 1970s, occasionally showing off their chops when the melodies surge but never showy, just cherry-sweet, razor-sharp melodies. Like waves washing up and racing away again on Brighton beach, with all its cherry-sweet, razor-sharp pebbles. Losing yourself to the groove, the cherry-sweet, razor-sharp groove. Lost in music, the cherry-sweet music. Converse sneakers. Heavenly. Caught in a trance, the razor-sharp trance. Play it once and lose yourself within the cherry-sharp rock pools of Chester. Play it twice, and go swinging on the razor-sweet playgrounds of Chester. I had this particular song listed among my favourite songs of 2016 but I never got round to explaining its cherry-sweet, razor-sharp allure. No eruptions but plenty of euphoria.
Peaness look like they would be a whole heap of fun to watch live. Just watch out for the cherry stones, and the razor blades.