The Nightingales in Southend on Friday (19 May 06) jetted in to my top ten gigs of all time – PHILL JUPITUS/BBC 6 MUSIC

The Nightingales – they’re back and they’re marvellous – MARC RILEY/BBC 6 MUSIC

They show up today’s runty excuses of art rockers for the soiled bags of old washing that they are – KITTEN PAINTING

With The Fall getting Lifetime Achievement awards and Gang Of Four canonised it is long past time the wayward genius of Robert Lloyd and his cohorts was recognised – RECORD COLLECTOR

Forget all these NME Band Of The Week types who make out they don’t care, won’t compromise, etc, because rock ‘n’ roll rarely gets as uncompromising as this – PLASTELIN

What’s Not to Love takes all the elements that powered Out of True – the furious drumming, the lyrical vitriol, the chaotic, post-everything guitar work – up a notch. The six songs are so clamorous, so headlong, so brutal that the record seems like a milestone. You can tell that the band’s been playing together for a while by the way it continually skirts the edge of chaos and continually fails to fall in. Opening cut “Plenty of Spare” emerges out of a rapid-fire maelstrom of a-melodic guitar notes and furious drum skitters, an almost free-jazz ooze that somehow births a song. Or, sort of a song. It’s too complicated to be punk, too hard and fast to be anything else…maybe it’s time for the Nightingales to invent their own genre. After all, it’s not like they ever fit very well into the existing ones. – DUSTED

Robert Lloyd, the Black Country Captain Beefheart, steamrolls his unwitting inheritors. Lesser talents plough the comeback trail, but the Nightingales press onwards – scratchy guitars scribbling furiously over exploratory drumming – the group reaching new heights in its third decade. – SUNDAY TIMES

It’s hard to warm to an album when the first track opens with almost an entire minute of out-of-tune guitar noise. ‘Plenty Of Spare’ gives us this, and sadly, more. This is a deeply un-enjoyable song, having no regard to rhythm, melody, or indeed any sense of cohesion. – THIS IS FAKE DIY

The Nightingales subjugate a rapt and breathless Spitz with a performance of sinewy magnificence. Sagacious frontman Robert Lloyd bellows his astute and witty lyrics about the dark satanic call-centres of England’s green and pleasant land with the priapic intensity of a rutting stag. – DAILY TELEGRAPH

Tuesday night at the Cake Shop in NYC. One of the best shows I’ve seen in years. Jangly, angsty, angular, punk, post-punk, just rock and roll, whatever, they destroyed. They played Which Hi-Fi?, one of my favorites, and it made the recorded version sound like easy listening. Original Prefects guitarist Alan Apperly is joined by teenage guitar sensation Matt Wood for the ultimate guitar attack, like the Magic Band, the Fire Engines and Television in a danelectro blender. Bassist Steve Lowe and drummer Daren Garrett ex of Pram just kill, and Robert Lloyd, well Robert is Robert. He ran into the audience, scared people, went out for a smoke while the band was still playing, performed Eno’s Hear Come the Warm Jets on a kazoo… predictable as always! – DAN SELZER/ILXOR

The Nightingales are morally sound, cynically sweet, disturbingly comedic. All carelessly and unconsciously cool, Nightingales are grown men with something to say and sparse, post-punk soundtracks to back them. So, back them – UNPEELED

Nightingales are unreal. The level of playing and songwriting after their post-punk hiatus is unparalled by any of their generational comeback cohorts – TERRE T/WFMU

This is that rarest of achievements: a comeback album that actually adds to an already illustrious reputation. Out Of True finds the Nightingales not merely back to their best, but actually improved – DAILY TELEGRAPH

This is a record that manages to sound more youthful and vibrant and packed with genuine humour and vitriol that any band currently pedalling themselves as post-punk, or anything near it, will no doubt be left feeling deflated – TASTY

Songs tumble past, pasty faced and brimming with mother’s pride, as fresh and corruptible now as when they started twenty years back. Age has neither dimmed their rage or diminished their satire – PLAN B

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