Why is surf music better than almost anything else? Don’t ask me. All I know is it’s like wearing a suit made of catnip, like Leslie Nielsen popping round your house, like the buzz of the third beer in good company. Even bad twang is good twang. From Gerlan, North Wales, Y Niwl are more then just retro cryptkickers though: they seem able to plug into surf’s essence, mainlining classic sounds and spewing them endlessly back out, dust free and perfect. Seeing them live is ridiculously fun: like being bummed by every frazzled archive clip and dream of sunshine in your subconscious. Relentless smiles.

Y Niwl’s superheavyweight vinyl debut is three tracks of instrumental lushness, recorded live and playful. ‘Un’ is the short electric shock, mini fretboard runs like fingers up the spine: the main riff’s initial appearance, heavy on the tremolo, could be 2010’s premier rock thrill. ‘Dau’ slows the tempo a few notches, and is initially disappointing for this: a few spins later though, it reveals itself as a nicely ebbing treat, a delicious seven note motif bobbing through the calm. Maximum victory points go to ‘Tri’: crashing guitar parts frame the appearance of a gloriously tinny organ line, one that chats and duels with the guitar, before falling out and smashing back at the end. Four minutes and a load of sections of vitamin D-enriched greatness. Why is this music perfect? I don’t know, but you can dance if you like.