THERE is an uncommon whiff of impending greatness around Gorky's Zygotic Mynci. Built on surprisingly strong musical foundations for a band that profess an interest in druidery, they have an ear for wonderful sounds rare among the British pop ascendancy. And unlike the welter of bands famous for, stolen chords, they have built an entity much greater than the sum of their influences. There are the unmistakable imprints of Brian Wilson's more maverick tendencies and Pink Floyd circa their early 1970s peak, but there is a clear Gorky's style that becomes most apparent onstage. While Barafundle, their recently released fourth album, is mightily impressive, their essence lies not among the hurdy gurdy, Jew's harp and crumhorns, but in the endearing shabbiness of their strangely constructed songs.

Their main talent is the almost perfect grasp they have of the dynamics of a pop song. Among the rubble of faulty technique, shambolic appearance and all round weirdness are songs with a structure more intricate than the common or garden verse chorus verse, expression more knowingly employed than the primitive loud then quiet of their peers and a wash of sounds they have no right to extract from one guitar, one violin and two ageing synthesisers.

Centre stage is Euros Childs, bumbling between songs like the Swedish chef, from The Muppets, but the real subtlety comes from the guitar of Richard James. In turn melodic, shimmering and grinding it is the heart of the Gorky sound, valuable not for its proficiency, but for its unique ability to capture something unobtrusively beautiful at any time.