Ah, Canada. The great open spaces. The comprehensive health care. The great open spaces. The pleasant people. The pronunciation of about. The great open spaces. The Tragically Hip. The Grizzly bears. The great open spaces.

Great Lake Swimmers exude Canadianosity like maple syrup from a squashed pile of pancakes. Stood in checked shirts, thanking the crowd repeatedly for showing up, they're just so darned pleasant, they make you want to stab someone.

Humble frontman Tony Dekker leads them with an extraordinary clarity of vocal, Neil Young with the nasal edges rasped off. If your mother didn't like them before (and there's no chance of that happening), she'd be delighted to hear every word of the songs. So she won't miss a word of an ode to Toronto's architecture (Concrete Heart), a bear's hibernation (Silent Films) and a story of how the sun goes to bed having drunk all the heat (Imaginary Bars).

The rest of the band, including a mandolin and banjo player, provide gentle Iron And Wine or Palace Brothers window dressing, which is a shame because when they attempt a more hearty country sound on Your Rocky Spine, there's appreciative boot-stomping from the crowd. And when they leave the stage a couple of times for Dekker to perform solo, a touch of air goes out of the room.

As they finish on time, thank the crowd for the 100th time and head off to play Scrabble and discuss the A404, you realise that it's been a very pleasant occasion - impossible not to enjoy but you wouldn't really want to live there.