Through squinting eyes, pupils expanded, all I can see are figures shorn of features; many a man beside me, though, is enjoying the aesthetic aspect of Californian gals The Like’s latest London performance. Three girls, each fresh of face and trim of frame, are always certain to receive a thumbs up from ageing A&R men looking for the next guitar-pop band to plug the mainstream’s Busted-shaped hole; their appearance is but a bonus, sure to squeeze their debut album Are You Thinking What I'm Thinking? into the review section at Nuts and the like (no pun intended). Tonight’s performance, though, isn’t wholly inspiring: they’re decent musicians, for sure, but not once does their set suggest that they’re entirely worthy of the major label deal that’s come their way.

Of course, the trio’s history is already well documented – Daddy’s in the industry, blah blah – but The Like’s aural appeal alone does eradicate the exclusive desire to look for the hows and whys of their success thus far and subsequently writing them off as a result of said findings; instead, the hard facts are obvious. They are a good band, playing good pop songs that bounce and duck like some mid-90s British indie-rocking outfit fronted by a chanteuse straight from the extras department of The O.C.. They possess exactly zero originality, but their execution is accomplished and eye-of-the-needle exact. They are good, plain and simple. And yes, plain and simple is what these songs are.

New single ‘June Gloom’ is one of two recognisable songs – the other, ‘What I Say And What I Mean’, was released to rather less fuss back in November (although it's by far the better of the two singles, all blustering angst and desperate ambitions). Both are solid pop-rockers; glossy, slick and ready for use on the soundtrack to any teen soap. The past week’s promotional work has seen the girls swear on 6Music before the watershed and receive something of a comedy roasting from Simon Amstell on Popworld; neither has particularly endeared the threesome to the audience at large and tonight the between-song banter is non-existent. Coupled with the statuesque stance of both singer Z Berg and bassist Charlotte Froom, once can’t help but think that they don’t care so much for their crowd’s absolute enjoyment. It’s straight on, song; retune, song; some remark about something that’s completely forgettable, song. Drummer Tennessee Thomas at least rocks properly, physically: head down throughout, she smashes her sole cymbal with no little ferocity.

Sadly, then, tonight The Like are simply forgettable – good, yes, but not memorably so. Perhaps if I’d packed my glasses I’d have come away thinking differently, but this much I do know even through blurred vision: if The Like were three guys, few would give a crap.