IN THE early Nineties, Oasis in their pre-Noel Gallagher days were known as Rain. Liam Gallagher’s judgement on them was that they stank the place out: all attitude, no tunes. Although little evidence of Rain’s awfulness survives to this day, they presumably sounded something like Viva Brother.

It’s not that the Slough outfit are derivative (virtually every artist rips somebody else off to a certain degree) or unambitious (have you heard Coldplay’s new one?). It’s just that Famous First Words is the dullest, dumbest, most unimaginative, joyless, sneering and hateful album you’re ever likely to have the misfortune to hear.

Viva Brother – who were, rather brilliantly, forced to alter their name from Brother due to an Australian band who play didgeridoos already having a claim to it – see themselves as the vanguard of a Britpop revolution. What they actually are is a band who make Northern Uproar sound like The Cure.

Famous First Words is the sort of pub rock which should have stayed in the pub, with the extremely occasional chinks of an idea, such as on New Year’s Day or Fly By Nights, being comprehensively wiped out by Viva Brother’s depressing guitar-drone and lyrical silage such as Otherside’s “I got a job that I don’t want/And I got a car that I don’t drive”.

If Britpop needed a revival, which is pretty questionable, it’d take more than a pair of Lennon shades and a truckload of misplaced arrogance to make it happen, but that’s all Viva Brother have got. On the basis of this rotten album, they should seriously think about changing more than their name.