Funk and rock: two words innocuous enough in their own rights but when combined enough to strike terror and loathing into any sane human being. Wantage’s Quadrophobe play funk-rock. Badly. Like, really, really badly: stumbling and grooveless, witless and self-consciously wacky. The band’s singer is a self-confessed `eccentric’, a sure sign he is anything but. `Barbarella’ is notable only for its clichéd wah-wah onanism and the frontman’s moaning-cum-shouting, which he seems to perceive as somehow soulful. `Old Five Legs’, meanwhile, is a musically mundane tale of a five-legged octopus, which shows just how Ker-razy Quadrophobe are. Their parties must be, like, utterly mental. Really. Oh fuck it, this is just crap. Lame, lazy and pointless. Guess that makes me a Quadrophobe-phobe. But as they sing themselves, ‘nothing good will ever come from this’.

‘Bands, those funny little plans that never work quite right.’ So runs the line from a Mercury Rev song, and on Friday I knew what the writer was moaning about. My own group runs to a seven-piece and getting them all together, even without the Oxfordshire weather getting Biblical on our ass, is as easy as herding cats. Confound the confusion with suspicious spouses, musical differences, smelly rehearsal rooms and picosecond soundchecks and you occasionally wonder if it’s all worthwhile. So the attractions of a two-piece, on purely logistical terms, are obvious and unanswerable. Thankfully, the boy-girl combination, Little Fish, offer much more than just convenience: above all, they make excellent, taut rock music.

The band consists of Juju, a versatile singer-songwriter in the Polly Harvey/Patti Smith mould and Nez, once the drummer with Vade Mecum. They have gigged hard over many months, culminating in a performance at this year’s Glastonbury and the record is appropriately tight and urgent-sounding. The opening ‘Devil’s Eyes’ starts with a swinging tom-tom figure not unadjacent to the one in ‘Golden Retriever’ by the Super Furry Animals, soon reinforced by Juju’s muscular electric guitar playing. Credit should go to the producer, Richard Aitken, who has conjured up an incredibly beefy sound from a single guitar using multiple amp techniques, but the highlight of the track is definitely Juju’s vocal performance, particularly the howling, spine-tingling chorus. ‘Am I Crazy?’ is a more uptempo, straight-ahead kind of tune, with a spiky, punky, panicky vocal. Here Juju is closest to PJ Harvey and although the performance is superb, the melody and progressions are rather conventional and not very memorable. Harvey, although a living legend, is guilty of many tracks where the the energy of her rhetoric is not matched by the level of musical invention and this seems to be the case here. There is a return to the heights of ‘Devil’s Eyes’ with ‘Sweat and Shiver’, whose onomatapoeic chorus is again maddeningly hummable. In this one, Aitken’s iron grip relaxes a touch to allow some male back-up vocals, but as always the guitar, drums (augmented cleverly by an insistent cowbell) and voice could carry the track alone.

Juju’s previously-mentioned versatility is highlighted on the closing ‘Error in Your Sunrise’, a surprisingly melting ballad which sees her move from rangy rocker to edgy white soul singer, with more than a touch of Sinead O’ Connor in her delivery, perhaps due to an unusual mixture of emotional brittleness welded to technical perfection. The track itself has the druggy dreaminess of a great Pink Floyd track and brings to a close a largely superb EP. Bring on a full-length album.