The Long Blondes are small proof that the NME will piss hearts all over anyone who’s not the Fratellis, and while some like their bands to wear the disguise of a big, fluffy fashion parade, the style’s not exactly fit to withstand time.

Not considering the bulge-tastic pants on guitarist Dorian Cox, the shrill but coyly seductive efforts of front-diva Kate Jackson, the Blondes’ set blended together in a sort of indistinguishable run of shiny, glittery glam. They’re the disco of English indie, in frankness.

But they were good for a single night of that thing called “a good time,” and on the last night of their U.S. tour, when drummer Mark Turvey played Darth Vader to stall time during one of several technical messes, Emma Chaplin and Reenie Hollis were overshadowed by their counterpart (Debbie Harry), attractive girls and attracted boys danced, boozed and flirted their way through, knowing this one-night-stand was a much-needed shedding of inhibition.