"I can't help but think that The Hidden Camera's architect, Joel Gibb, is really fucking with us. Now, last year's 'The Smell Of Our Own' lingered in my CD player for a good couple of months, existing as the album about urine-based sex games you can play at a family get-together with your grandmother.

In other words, a total joy. Sumptuous, light, folk-tinged pop, wrapped up in strings with lyrics about the men kissing of such a high frequency that it may not even be open to the usual "Waitasec… what are they singing about?!" reaction from homophobes, due to them possibly not even being aware of the sexual quirks being cheerfully charted.

Their second album is, basically, exactly the same. Cut from the same sumptuous velvet and chiffon, it delights the ears and makes me want to open the windows wide and shout out at the world. And still about the ultra-shagging."

With the current update, New Noise steps to the threshold of being a teenager. I contribute a review of The Hidden Cameras' new album, "Mississauga Goddam".