Nice (mysteriously and for no clear reason at all pronounced “Niece”) play (pronounced “ploy”) adept (pronounced “Ahdeept), gently fuzzy pop (pronounced “poop”) melodies that neither offend the senses nor resign themselves to droning unnoticed in the background (pronounced “milk my prostate with the handle of a toilet plunger”). Nice is the exact kind of band that Imperial Teen, with their sweet post-Sonic Youth noodlings, mock. That helps explain why a band like this is difficult to review in this age of post-alternative plunder, parody and harmless ridicule. Many of Nice’s songs, especially the very catchy “High School” would have found themselves right at home in the late eighties on MTV’s 120 minutes alongside such bands as the Stone Roses and the Buckpets although Nice is much more buoyant than those examples. Vocalist, Anderson, sings with withering alto passion as guitarist, Anderson, never tires of picking out his uplifting rhythms over drummer, Anderson’s perpetually poppy and upbeat delivery. This is a band with a clear direction that writes each song so it could stand on its own as a radio airplay single whether it’s a somber background harmony laden homage to the Beatles or a digi-pop throwback to the age of Duran Duran.