If it was surprising to learn, back in 2006, that Keane frontman Tom Chaplin was battling a serious chemical addiction, it’s more surprising to see that the band have bounced back so wilfully with ‘Spiralling’.

The knack for writing depressing, though thoroughly hummable, songs has not left them. Musically, we’re right back in 1984, arms of our suit jackets rammed purposefully above our elbows. So what’s new? Everyone’s doing the 80s thing these day. But where the Killers have polished back the rock to a high glitz, aiming at mimicry of style over musical emulation, Keane’s is a consummate revival – from the chorus backing vocals to the plinky-plonky tin pot drum kit. Cyndi Lauper could have picked the swampy synthesizer track and Madonna probably wrote the chord structure onto her bedroom mirror in red lipstick.

Chaplin belts it out, his personal problems adding an unfamiliar depth to the lyrics, at the expense of being totally at odds with the synth-glazed pash-party going on behind him. It ends up sounding like a paean to credit-crunch Britain –“yes, you’re enjoying yourselves, but it wont last!” – Chaplin seems to sing.

You will either dance, or cry. Probably at the same time.