The Diggers are so sweet I get extra plaque just watching them strut their plagently retro stuff on the boards of London's 100 Club. Not sweet in the cute sense but in a sugary Beach Boys way. It's the way in which they walk from bar to stage in matching corduroy jackets, buttoned-up shirts and orderly haircuts. It's their high-voiced harmonies and their touchingly heartfelt tales of love and loss ('Peace Of Mind', and 'Tangled Web'). It's their coordinated movements and brazen innocence. All of whose genteel pose and unfailing niceness point to the boy bands of the early '60s - The Byrds, The Kinks, Gerry and the Pacemakers. As I said, sweet.
"We like soul music, Motown, Otis Redding, that kind of stuff," says lead singer Alan Moffat, shooting down my theory in flames.
The Diggers are a four-piece from the grittier side of Glasgow, averaging an age of 25, the latest in a long line of (generally speaking) fine Scottish signings to Creation. Belying their polite mannerisms is a twisted history - car crashes, work on oil-rigs, expulsions, dodgy managers, obsessions with the '60s cult leaders and squandered advances - which has given them an attitude that says: "We want it bad". And they do, singing, walking and talking with a burning desire to create something special from themselves from the black stuff of life.
Still, Diggers they may be, but moles they ain't. The bright lights don't appear to bother these riff-toting toilers. "We live for the next day," Moffat nods. "Our strongest point is our youth. The future's so bright we gotta wear ridiculous shades."
Well, they've got the tunes and sound bites down - now all they need is for Noel to go to one of their gigs...