The Cairo Gang’s music is a refreshing dip in the pools of classic youth-pop, with songs of star-crossed breakthroughs and guitars cross-talking with a bejewelled ennui and a sly sting that appeals to a higher order.

The untouchable stands outside, removed by necessity from the castes of our world. This remove makes him the most reliable narrator in tracking the way of things between people. Throughout ‘Untouchable’, Emmett ‘The Cairo Gang’ Kelly is such a narrator, made bemused and dizzy by the sights swirling around him, the fraying sense of connection and people’s need so keen to be self-aware that we write our own autobiographies before we should ever be called to witness, publish our diary pages and call them entertainment. As these instincts develops into interrelationships, contradictions abound for our singer. Dwelling in the head while noticing things – or waiting to notice things – and lyrical to the bitter-sweet end, The Cairo Gang serve up sweet-and-sorrow reveries of Untouchable, a breath taking series of entanglements and attempts to break free, a trace of dolour wafting through their dancing riff-works.

2015’s ‘Goes Missing’ sang to the listener of dreamy isolation through a disembodied production; parts assembled from different moments, times and places and woven mechanical into an irresistible pop whole. ‘Untouchable’ rewires the machine, spinning tales of dissolution from a shared space on the way to new hope.

Cut live and immediate with shimmering waves of quicksilver guitar, telepathic harmony voices and scraps of yesterday’s rhythm and produced glisteningly by Kelly and Ty Segall, ‘Untouchable’ exemplifies the joy of science and the search for knowing: a tesseract-like bridging of musical and emotional dimensions that has formed the crux of so many essential musical admissions from the past half-century. The shadows of the rock and roll era are cast long across the face of ‘Untouchable’ – from the majesty of the soloing on ‘That’s When It’s Over’ to the twinned leads, ascending arpeggios and Petty-esque sardonicisms of the closer, ‘What Can You Do?’