Depressingly, the audience lapped up Josh Rouse's sickeningly goody-goody songs.

The Nebraska-born singer-songwriter clearly has a strong fan base. He is well scrubbed and self-effacing and his tunes are catchy and heartwarming.

The experience is infuriatingly "nice" and I felt a killjoy for hating it.

Described as the missing link between Jack Johnson and Conor Oberst, critics have termed his niche musing, idiosyncratic folk pop mixed up with Seventies soft-rock creaminess.

His recently released seventh album Subtitulo is said to be heavily influenced by his move from Tennessee to Spain. The romantic tenor of the songs is supposed to reflect the upbeat Spanish lifestyle and customs he has immersed himself in.

Drugged by this sickly cocktail, girls in bows swung their hips, lovers snogged and the rest stood around with glazed expressions.

Even if you have never heard Rouse's stuff in your life, you will find you know exactly where each tune is heading, so you never have to think or be surprised.

The music scrambles your brain, blots out the world and sends you into a mildly moronic state.

Defending his genre, Rouse says: "Soft rock is a horrible phrase to some people, but I always like what nobody else does. It's mellow, I guess.

"It's just nice to put on, listen if you want. If not, you can clean the house or something while it's playing that's the kind of music I like."

This is what it sounds like to be buried alive in suburbia.