Pick of the week: Bananarama, Love Comes (Fascination)

There are those of us of a certain age for whom Sara Dallin and Keren Woodward provided both an erotic awakening and a good many reasons to use the phrase, "Erm ... Mum, that night-time thing has happened again." Thankfully, the only naughty emissions here are coming from the girls themselves, who return triumphantly with this minor epic of pounding, gasping, poised haute-disco with shades of Girls Aloud. A hi-NRG fan's wet dream, rather than the other, more awkward kind.

P Money Ft Vince Harder, Everything (3 Beat Blue)

Now that the business of saying, "OMG BANANARAMA!!!" is out of the way, we can get to lesser mortals, the best by far of which are Messrs Money and Harder, who will have had a difficult childhood with a name like that. Everything is knowingly cheesy, catchy pop-house that is well served by superb remixes, none of which are better than the thumpy, woozy Magik Johnson reworking, which fucks it up in just the right way. As much fun as dressing up as Sherlock Holmes for no reason.

The Non-Commissioned Officers, Make-Out With Violence EP (Make Mine)

The Lehning brothers, Jordan and Eric, come straight outta Nashville Tennessee, and have created an EP that is the soundtrack for a film (of the same name) in which they also act. I know, right? The oddness of such a venture is matched by the oddness of their work, which melds all manner of clashing styles, straight-ahead indie jangle and harmonies rubbing up awkwardly synth drums and robo-vocals; they're best, though, on You Don't Even Know Her, when they decide to dive headlong into full-on synth-pop. Odd, but admirable, like a cow in a pretty dress.

Mika, We Are Golden (Casablanca)

It's not really much of a compliment to note that this Mika single would actually be quite good if Mika was allowed to go nowhere near it. Musically, it's agreeably fat-arsed synth-funk with impressive oceanic swells of handbag keyboard in the chorus. Sadly, with the man himself smearing his absurd, uppy-downy vocal faeces all over the walls, it just makes the listener want to punch him slightly more than normal; "normal" being very much indeed. And the video? Enough to make you grind your teeth to the gums.

Pixie Lott, Boys And Girls (Mercury)

When it comes to "vaguely sympathetic pop-cultural personalities called Pixie" there is currently a strike rate of zero from two, but at least the Geldof one didn't willingly give herself such a stupid name. The Lott version, meanwhile, is endeavouring to bestow upon us a brassy, sassy dancefloor heater like some smug Italia Conti Pink, but, much like a vegetarian restaurant, she just ain't got the chops. "All the boys and the girls, they got it going on", she sings, with all the oomph and pizzazz of an English-speaking robot struggling to read Sanskrit from an autocue. A Lott of shite.