Lacking the hollow bombast and naked ambition of Muse and the pompous banality of Coldplay, JJ72 were in the more likeable half of bands touted as the new Radiohead. One of the few bands I saw purely on the strength of a press officer's bribe, they were a surprisingly canny live band; they did nothing much that 80s-tinged falsetto complaint-rockers like Geneva or Puressence hadn't done before, but Gene Pitney-esque Thom Yorke mini-me frontman Mark Greaney at least knew his way around a chorus.
They also marked the point at which bands started getting younger than me. They certainly seemed it: dreadfully serious and lyrically clumsy (see below: why, indeed, won't it snow?). But GMS felt kindly disposed towards the band, in the way you imagine one might when faced with earnest youngsters facing up to a career in a vacuous industry at the start of a vacuous decade.
I'm staggered to learn they carried on until 2006, and am not altogether convinced that they aren't the Subways.
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