There was once a brief argument in the comments section of a review I wrote in which I described the Union Chapel as twee. One particular gentlemen took much offence at this suggestion, insisting that the Union Chapel was not twee and damming me for besmirching its honour. Naturally, he was wrong. The Union Chapel (a lovely place) is twee, but there is nothing wrong with this. It's a sign of how annoying 'tweeness' is when found in copious quantity that the word has become taken to be an insult, rather than a simple neutral descriptive word. The problem is twee music is that it is so desperately inoffensive, that it lacks any sort of edge or any sort emotion that isn't whimsy, and sometimes it frustrates because we want something that has something more, and doesn't blunt it's edges by seeming so eager to please. These criticisms are not entirely true, even 'Belle and Sebastian' had a sordid underbelly, and it's difficult to deny that even the most sickeningly sweet bands such as 'The Boy Least Likely To' have a charm to them. But there is a line that is too easily crossed, and for this reason most music fans have a love/hate affair with twee music, liking it because it's near impossible to not somehow enjoy it, but hating it on weirdly held ideological grounds.

Zoey Van Goey, appear deserving of this love/hate relationship for their cutesy name alone, and in parts they certainly live up to this name. Songs such as 'You told the drunks I knew karate' and 'Robot tyrannosaur' desperately try to tug at our nostalgic heartstrings. Sure, it's not an all out assault of types of memory that we all hold, but all the elements are there. The emotion that Zoey Van Goey (and often twee music in general) tries to bring up is the same one you feel when looking at your old childhood toys, as you pack them away for storage. One filled with memories of good times, and a knowledge that it was this that made you the person you are. With these memories come a huge raft of other feelings and emotions, your first crush and other such cliches. Anyway, Zoey Van Goey aren't writing about childhood, as that'd be largely ridiculous, but they are tugging on the same heartstrings. Essentially while the experiences written about here may be personal, they needn't be, they feel personal to almost every listener, recalling experiences that we all went through, and even if you didn't have these experiences you'll think you did, such is the warm fondness with which they are remembered.

Is this annoying, or is it charming and enjoyable? Well, it's a combination of both, ultimately I want my music to do something more than put it's arm round my shoulder and say "remember that time when you spent all night watching bad films and laughing? That was great wasn't it?". I'd rather my music told me new things, brought out and conquered new themes. But whatever right, sometimes I enjoy a twee romp through shared emotional experience with a band, and the fact it doesn't do much else isn't of any consequence. Propeller Versus Wings is basically this sort of affair, and I'm enjoying it. There are few moments where I'm feeling the emotion of the singers, rather than my own, but they are occasionally there, but ultimately it's what it is, and it shouldn't be criticised for being that so overtly.

Musically, Propeller Versus Wings isn't especially inspired. Pleasant, well played guitar music with pretty vocals and a warm inviting sound. It doesn't really do anything above what you'd expect as a minimum. There are few creative flourishes, though its feet remain firmly on the ground. But that doesn't really matter, it does the job, and that job is to make you feel happy, safe and vaguely but oddly nostalgic. So if you hate the sort of thing, and it makes you want to smash things in an angry range just to compensate for the pleasant tones heading at you, then you won't like this. Otherwise, you aren't going to adore it to bits, but I'll wager that you'll enjoy it.