The Blakes, from Seattle, took their name after singer/guitarist Garnet Keim had a dream about William Blake. How disappointing, then, that they should turn out to be earthbound indie-rockers rather than visionary pioneers. At their absolute best, the Blakes manage to produce errorless reproductions of the Strokes' first album - Modern Man isn't so much a tribute as a tracing. At their worst, they churn out generic garage-pop that could have come from any number of albums made since the start of the millennium. It's not so much that they are bad - there's a grim competence about both songwriting and playing - more that there seems to be no pressing need for their existence. Put it this way: they won't be building Jerusalem on anyone's green and pleasant land.