Back in autumn last year, I went to see the War on Drugs, a fantastic combination of squalling feedback, Springsteen-propulsion and sun-baked Americana. They had presumably arrived on these shores feeling like conquerors, with a few of their own dates scattered their big gig supporting the now all-conquering Hold Steady. Well, Tad Kubler's pancreas put paid to that (you could say it Almost Killed him. Hah!), forcing the fist-pumping Berryman-fanciers to postpone their Britannic excursion, and therefore stranding the War on Drugs on these grey shores without their promised big break and with just a handful of disparate headlining gigs.

And thus was the slightly drizzling mood which gripped Brixton as me and my friend trudged to the Windmill to indulge in the escapism you get from hearing songs written for clear blue skies and rolling American deserts. But we got moved long before we expected to be; after a couple of predictably awful support bands, My Sad Captains took the stage, looking slightly awkward and entirely unmatched to the sub-Oasis pub rock that had gone before or the transcendentalist shimmering thunder that was presumably to follow.

Now, roll with me a second - mainstream British guitar indie music is more or less dead. Pointless post-Libertines idiots like The Kooks, The Pigeon Detectives, The Enemy and others shamble around like retarded mammoths, mining the Kinks/Joy Division/Smiths playbook for whatever discarded crumbs still remain within. It's clearly time to mine a new seam of influence, or to play it safe - several. Which brings me on to My Sad Captains' debut album Here and Elsewhere. They sound a good deal like lots of music you've heard already, but it's difficult to put your finger on what exactly. Sure, singer Ed Wallis' voice has a resemblance to a certain Mr. Malkmus, but the guitars are softer and less wonky than Pavement's, while the keyboards and soft female backing vocals make it all sound a little bit twee.

But then I swear title track, 'Here and Elsewhere' quotes the opening theme to hit snooker-based gameshow Big Break, and the shuffling percussion and chiming piano in 'You Talk All Night' evokes The National's actual modern classic Boxer. I just don't know where it's all coming from! What I do know, however, is that every song is distinctive and barely takes one listen to get stuck in your head. And 'All Hats No Plans' is, minus a lame advertising campaign and some intensive radio-play, a top ten hit waiting to happen.

Hopefully this band is going places. They're playing SXSW in a few weeks, they have this fantastic debut album and keyboardist Cathy Lucas is a potential indie-pop poster girl in the vein of Amelia Fletcher or Isobel Campbell; all baggy jumper and cool/uncool hair. I have no idea what their distribution is going to be like, but in this digital futureground of instant pornography and virtual burglaries, I'm sure you'll be able to track it down somehow. Just make sure you do get your hands on it for a great slice of vaguely melancholic exquisitely-sculpted guitar pop. And then tell your friends. Come on, it's time to slay landfill indie for good, and there's finally a band with the potential mass-appeal, cardigans and most importantly, the melodies to do it. Who's with me?