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If Arctic Monkeys' sturdy, acutely British version of punk evokes rows of brick council houses, then Good Shoes' thin and light variation calls to mind a quickly assembled movie set of the same. Instead of dirty distortion, there's a cleanliness to the intertwining, treble-happy guitars that buoys singer Rhys Jones' romance-weary lyrics. No attachments, nothing lasts, next tune, please. Accordingly, the flimsiest singsong melodies don't stick, but "Morden" -- a pained condemnation of suburban London blight that's packed with poignant detail -- suggests the Shoes' goodness could someday become greatness.