Some Magic Numbers Feedback

Me, I'm a big fan of the Shout Out Louds, this brilliant band from Sweden whose debut Howl Howl Gaff Gaff brings a smile to my face every time I hear it. The way they effortlessly blend uptempo, life-affirming rhythms ( think Mando Diao ) with a croaky voice ( think Pavement ) which tells you sad tales of abandon never fails to hit me. So when I heard they'd be supporting The Magic Numbers at the Paradiso in Amsterdam this Monday I made sure to check them out. Coincidentally my ex-roommate was there too and she told me she's a big fan of the headliners.
Our tastes usually overlap but this time, you'll probably see this one coming, they definitely don't. It even baffled me that the show at this 1500 capacity venue was sold out on a Monday night. I've listened to the record, read the reviews, know what's what, but I can't seem to get my head around it. The Magic Numbers are picked up by the anglophile so-called quality press, but listening to a set of theirs brings me to defining them as: Supersweet Neo-Christian Folkish Hillbilly Hippie-music.
Sure they got a few good Kings of Leon -like stompers on their repertoire and covering Beyonce for an encore means you got some guts, but most of their set makes my toes curl. Especially the moment when this blonde rave girl invades the stage to sing along makes it clear to me that I have to take sides here. I don't like their feel good vibe. The way their singer grins oh so sympathetic after each song. Just in case: It's nothing to do with 3/4 of them being fat and I don't give a flying fuck about hipster coolness too, but somehow The Magic Numbers are way too ' gezellig ' for me. If you've got no clue what that untranslatable Dutch word means ask someone from the Netherlands if you catch them abroad and punch them in the face after they've explained it to you.
Walking out afterwards, in the hall I happen to meet all the acquaintances I tend to talk with at shows but don't really like. They're all laughing too loud, slapping me on the back and being quite annoying in general. My roommate sees an ex which I dump her with saying I still need to write a very important article ( not this one obviously ). On my way out I suddenly realise The Magic Numbers are like Tenacious D without the humor. Time to hit the street and drive the wheels of my bike into the ankles of the first stoned, unattentive tourist.