Can you imagine not liking pop music? I don’t mean all pop music, I just mean not liking some pop music. Subcultural identity in music is all well and good and undoubtedly serves a useful connecting mechanism between individuals in Slayer t-shirts to shout “SSSSLLLLLAAAAAAYYYYYEEEEERRRRR!!!!” at one another across a busy street with their tongues hanging out like knackered horses, but there exist so many laughable deniers of the music that started their journey that this needs to be addressed. Most of us are heavily indebted to pop music as the gateway drug to the rabbit hole of musical Class A’s that we devour with a semi-religious fervour. Most pop music is, obviously, awful, but that is true of a wide range of musical styles in all honesty. Good pop music, though rare, is a wonderful thing. Carly Rae Jepsen is the obvious stand out example of this in recent years, with Billie Eilish not far behind - despite pissing about with one of her near-perfect tracks by having Bieber crap all over it. Ah well, somehow Bieber remains relevant for some.

Las Aves produce that elusive kind of musical phenomenon that few succeed in achieving – a pop record of depth, sensitivity and social commentary that elevates them above the rabble. I’ll Never Give Up On Love Until I Can Put a Name On It was mixed by Geoff Swan, who has previously worked with Charli XCX and Grimes, and it’s his ear for fractured rather than sugar-coated and superfluous pop that really grabs you. Las Aves know their way around a tune, of course, and their choice of lyrical subject matter (the trappings of Gen Z romance) and downbeat production combine perfectly to produce an album which is bittersweet yet still hummable.

‘You Need a Dog’ opens the album with a brilliantly contrived spoken word exchange that comes off as the 21st century’s equivalent of The Shangri-Las’ ‘The Leader of the Pack’. Where that song is about a burgeoning relationship with the coolest kid in town, Las Aves are dealing here with heartbreak and the best piece of advice anyone can receive when they are broken – “You need a dog/ You need a fucking dog.” It’s funny, warm and solid advice. The counterpoints of each view the two vocalists offer – from wrenching soul-searching to emotionally distant pragmatism – perfectly sum up the dichotomous extremes of the social media generation where things are black or white, one extreme or another. It’s a perfectly conceived and delivered contemporary love song that doesn’t take itself too seriously.

‘A Change of Heart’ skips and jumps with ethereal vocals and lush synth lines vying for attention before ‘Baby’ brings washes of sound and a pensive tone which elaborates on the difficulties of modern relationships. These first three tracks showcase the strengths of Las Aves as a whole – direct, expertly constructed paeans to the rigours and rituals of romance with thematic depths that go well beyond pop’s reliance on the superficial. It’s a great run of tracks with similar narrative tropes which fit well together. Las Aves have clearly produced the album as a body of work, not disparate pop hits.

‘Worth It’ shifts the almost melancholic air of the album so far by offering a celebration of the clarity that comes with self-acceptance. The opening lyric of “When I was young I used to think/ That my body defined me/ I couldn’t stand to look in the mirror/ There was always too much of me,” sets the scene for a song that centres on body positivity and the realisation that you have to love yourself before anyone else. When we are constantly bombarded with images of “beautiful” social media influencers and the waste of organs that are the Kardashians, it’s easy to perceive a correlation between screen time and unhappiness at our own sense of self. Las Aves remind us to ignore all of that; outward appearance and all of its trappings are only important to those who want to control us in one way or another. Screw that.

I’ll Never Give Up On Love… isn’t all electro-pop bangers. ‘Tomorrow’ and ‘Cancel On Me’ are more sombre in tone, highlighting a more mature side to Las Aves. ‘Latin Lover’ feels a bit bloated and is the weakest point of the album, but when most of the songs are absolutely joyous in one way or another, I suppose one less than ace track is still pretty good going.

There is a bittersweet aspect to many of the tracks here, a sense of resignation in the face of societal pressure to conform to the drive towards monogamy. Las Aves question the process rather than the outcome of relationships, declaring that although the journey has ups and downs, the end result is worth it. I’ll Never Give Up On Love Until I Can Put a Name On It is a decent sentiment in increasingly disconnected times, and it’s also a genuinely rewarding pop album.