Since there is a little more room in the Great Encyclopedia of the Mysteries of Pop, let's add this entry too: London's Miracle Mile can't get a deal. Two class-studded albums and two e.p.'s haven't been enough to guarantee Trevor Jones' band a place in the sun to properly distribute the new album, 'Bicycle Thieves'. And yet the Miracle Mile make enchanting songs with plain elegance in an unbelievably natural way. Trevor Jones doesn't deny that one of his 'idols' is Prefab Sprout's Paddy McAloon. But there's more than that: 'Bicycle Thieves' sounds like a tribute to Martin Stephenson's songwriting, to the Bible's rainy pop, to the soul hints of the early Deacon Blue and, of course, to the imperishable teaching of the Beatles. The delicate jazzy groove of 'Happy Together', the acoustic lightness of 'Walking John Wayne', or even the mellow but seducing backing vocals of 'Bluer Skies' instil sudden pleasure while listening. 'Bicycle Thieves' knows no rest: its thirteen tracks 'look' like tailor-made suits: elegant and perfect. 'What Became of Monty' or 'The Killing Time' could even wink at some big radio stations, if only somebody could hear them. It's such a shame that Trevor Jones' talent be frustrated by the few copies sold and by the few people that happen to see the Miracle Mile's shows, maybe sceptical at first, but then repenting not having 'discovered' them before.