You didn't ask about the Broken Family Band...

...awww. But I'll tell you anyway, because I was at their gig in the Water Rats Theatre last night.

'They' say never to meet your heroes because you'll be disappointed, but I can confirm that this does not apply to the members of the Broken Family Band. Just before they went on stage I ambushed a rather tired Steve Adams - they'd done two sets in Brixton that afternoon which, when combined with the sweltering weekend heat, would have caused lesser mortals to collapse. He bravely pretended to be enthusiastic and charming about meeting the random girl who's been stalking him for money on the Internet and he immediately put all his t-shirts at my disposal. (I took seven. No, only one of them is for me.)

Shall I review the gig? Oh, okay then. As music critics go I would be a shite one when asked to review groups I am inordinately fond of, like the Broken Family Band for example. In fact, I can't think of another band that I am so fond of, so let the gushing commence.

What is it that makes the Broken Family Band the dominant music force on my iPod and just about the only thing other than Irish fiddle music scrobbled on my last.fm profile? Is it their droll, pin-sharp lyrics? Their offbeat humour? Their delicate riffs and chunky chords? Songs that are so singalongable? The fact that they're all so nice? This gig for example: we had flowers to wear, we had the finest wines known to humanity, and cake. We had the up-close and personal laid-back coziness of the venue. We had a great back catalogue of songs played to us and plenty of new ones to whet our appetite. We had jokes and impromptu Blues. We had a very nice time. Nice is good. More people should be nice.

There is a dark side to everything though, and to the couple in front of me who wouldn't stop talking during the songs and who didn't heed the shushing noises: I'm not interested in what you're going to do to each other later; in fact, I hope he can't get it up and she vomits on him and you both have lethal hangovers. Bah.

So anyway, thanks to Steve, and to Mick, Jay and Gavin whom I also managed to chat to long enough to thrust our team cards into their sweaty paws. Come and see us off on the 21st July. You guys rock. Nice is definitely not a dirty word.