... might just be Anathallo. A little bit Sufjan, a little bit Arcade Fire. Have a look at the site, then maybe do a search on Hype (there, I've done it for you), and see what people have been writing and posting on their mp3 blogs for more info.
They need a couple of listens though, and I'm not sure I'd want them in the house, as they'd probably talk a lot about God, then insist on cleaning your oven for you, even though it was already reasonably clean, and then they'd go and stand outside in the sunshine, raising their beaming faces to the sun, and saying 'Isn't life just mysterious and wonderful!', and probably overtip taxi drivers and make you feel small and worthless.
Actually I've gone off them a bit now. But I will be getting the album.
So I got a text from PP at the weekend, saying 'Had a big gay fight in Canterbury, was sacred (I think he meant 'scared') and am now in your old house, and the neighbours are complaining'.
To understand the sheer joy this text brought, you have to realize that I lived in one house in Canterbury, then moved out because of hideously noisy neighbours, into a place on St. Peters Street. There followed one month of blissful relative peace, then new people moved in. Nice people, who put in polished wooden floors (I peeked) and had nice furniture and said hello when they saw me, and played breakbeat at one million decibels.
My flatmate and I had already realised the walls in the new place had the sound-absorbing qualities of a pot of basil when we heard the previous occupant sneezing, and jumped a mile because it sounded like she'd come round to our place to do so. But that had been it really, and you can't complain about sneezing, it's rarely deliberate.
But then the new people moved in, and I discovered with a sinking feeling the bloke one's mum had bought the place for them, so they weren't likely to be going in a Murray, or indeed a hurry. The music was very annoying enough, but then came the loud sex. Worse still, on one occasion when we had to raise our voices to be heard over the loud sex, we realized the girl one had gone out to the shops half an hour ago. Ew ew ew.
Anyway, we asked them politely a number of times to please keep it down a bit, and were greeted with bemused stares and incredulous giggling, and eventually we gave up and moved out, but neither of us could afford to go anywhere new, so me and Best Mate ended up moving back in with our respective parents in Cornwall just as we turned thirty. A personal triumph for both of us.
Anyway, the news that a big bunch of happy gay men have moved into my old place and play big gay showtunes* at a volume that causes said neighbours to bang on the walls every single saturday night has made me believe firmly in karma, in this case delivered by noisy gay people, which makes it even better. Marvellous stuff.
* I'm guessing. It might be Kylie, obviously.