Sure, we've got Suede (aka The London Suede), and the Moz still cranks out a solo disc now and again, but there's a been a paucity of dreamy, heavy/light hearted, dance-your-legs-down-to-the-knees, "does he or doesn't he?" guitar pop out there for a while now. Thankfully, (picnic, lightning) goes a long way towards correcting the trend. I had never heard of Garlands before, but the moment the CD started playing I knew I was going to like them. The opening minute or so of the first track, "bird on the make", could easily pass for a new Morrissey single (That's a good thing). Not all of the tracks are so directly Morrisseyesque, however, and Garlands are certainly more than just a Smiths tribute band. Nonetheless, their songs manage to nail the arpeggiated guitars, meandering basslines, snappy drums, somewhat goofy/breathy/melodramatic vocals and "what the hell are they talking about?" lyrics that make good bands like this so endearing to their fans. It's sissy music for sure, and there's probably not much here for fans of a lot of the macho alternarock that's flooding the airwaves these days. But that's their loss. The meak shall inherit the earth, oui?