You could easily hate Foxygen. They sound like the 1960s, they’re druggies and they’re idiotic. But their ridiculously-titled second LP will make you admire Sam France and Jonathan Rado because of what you’d miss if you dismissed them as a twattish pastiche. It’s a rewarding mixture of romance, wit and fantasy. ‘Shuggie’ sounds like two teenagers humping on an Earls Court pavement in 1963, ‘San Francisco’’s hook lands like a delicate smooch and ‘Oh Yeah’ is just slovenly. Want to hate Foxygen? You’ll need to try harder.