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No one has ever satisfactorily explained why Liverpool and Los Angeles should have developed such a spiritual link over the past twenty years and more, although the current of influence has arguably only run in one direction.

People talk about the relative Westerliness of the two cities; if so, why aren't Bristol acts ripping off the Seattle sound? Others suggest that it's to do with the obvious proximity of the respective coasts. Trust me, the Irish Sea is not the Pacific. The two don't offer similar leisure pursuits at all. Wirral is not San Francisco or San Diego.

It all comes down, sadly, to Lee Mavers, and a little further back to the Fab Four and their tussle with the Beach Boys to be crowned cleanest of the clean-cut male harmony groups. Close harmonies, and an interest in illegal highs, have coloured Liverpool's output ever since. Recently there has been a huge uprising in really different and interesting music pouring out of Merseyside. I hoped, as many have in the city, that things might have moved on for once and all. Wrong.

In fairness, We Are Catchers wears his heart on his sleeve. Peter Jackson's music is most readily comparable to the heady days of the early to mid-2000s, when the Coral and the Zutons were triumphantly Scouse-ing it up around the world and The La's were proclaimed as progenitors of a cultural renaissance in the city. Actually, the bulk of his debut album sounds more like Cast recorded by Bill Ryder-Jones. By the way, this actually was recorded by Bill Ryder-Jones. Domino have snapped up a number of Merseyside acts in recent years, and also harbour (I use that word advisedly) Miles Kane. Ah, as they say - Snap.

This has infinitely more charm than Kane, albeit with a very familiar love of a predictable lyrical couplet. 'Water's Edge' follows the usual mildly psychedelic template. Lyrical clanger #1: "From the sky I can see the birds fly." So, you can see the birds fly down from the sky, or you're in the sky and you can see birds fly? Shouldn't that be, from the ground I can see the birds fly in the sky? And who calls anything a ledge these days, other than people who need it to rhyme with edge?

'Tap Tap Tap' reanimates the Beach Boys, backed by a wall of Scouse, you could say. It's nice and smudged, with the whole mix seemingly squeezed into the three inches that make up the centre of your head, like a Greek chorus singing tight harmonies while piggy-backing an indie four piece. 'If You Decide' has a cheerful, Cast-esque melody; 'Isabella' could be Ed Harcourt, and makes the cardinal sin of rhyming 'gone away' with 'stay'. It's really to Jackson's credit that everything on the album rhymes with everything else.

The production is uniform, the execution is tight and professional. It has the air of one of those production-line beat groups that Brian Epstein rolled out following the success of you-know-who, with a straightforward delivery and a real commitment to the material. The difference is that there actually isn't a great deal of this kind of thing being pushed at the moment, nationally. Perhaps the label has foreseen a re-flowering of nostalgia for the Olde Ways, and want to tap into that.

In its good nature, it is admirable. I just think there is too much that is really diverting about other current sons and daughters of the city to say any more.