The bass player looks like Paul Simonon from the Clash, and the guy whacking a tambourine has his jaw clamped shut so tight you know he's deeply pissed off that he's not doing the singer.
In the chorus, there's a synthesised string patch that sounds all slurred and reminds me of being on a dancefloor with some slightly dodgy chemicals beginning to mess my head up. This is a good thing, although strictly speaking, it's not a fourteen-years-old thing. Don't try this at home.
The singer is pretty hot by the way. She's complaining about how she's been dating a Bad Boy, and it's all gone wrong (typical). I think she sings "he leaves my soul on the floor like a dog". Why do hot girls actively seek out men who don't give a damn about the content of their souls? I still don't know.
The band are from Copenhagen. This is their first single. You can buy it in the UK from Monday. They have a MySpace. Check 'em out.
So, for three minutes and forty seconds, I am fourteen again. Only this time, I have a driving licence, and I can get served in pubs.
Bring. It. On.

"Thou shalt not use poetry, art or music
to get into girls’ pants:
use it to get into their heads. "
SCROOBIUS PIP
to get into girls’ pants:
use it to get into their heads. "
SCROOBIUS PIP