A personal rule of thumb for arranging one's thoughts, post-gig, is trying to recall the number of times yawned during a set.
Not greatly scientific, I'll grant you, but it usually suffices as a rough enjoyment-indicator.
Despite the best efforts of British folk-rockers Larrikin Love to warm a cold winter's evening at Wolverhampton's snug Little Civic, I must confess to some serious and frequent facial contortions. Not pretty.
I say this with a heavy heart because Larrikin Love are a band I would greatly like to enthuse over. Striking reggae beats, folky guitar riffs and lyrics peppered with cultural references cleverly offset an earthy, nouveaux Brit-rock sound.
Like Babyshambles raucously hopping about to the Pogues, there are undeniably some good ideas at work here.
Larrikin Love are definitely not lacking in spirit either. The enthusiasm of ebullient front man Edward Larrikin - both endearing and tantalisingly punchable, in equal measures - is clearly the driving force behind the band. Or rather, in front of it.
Fizzing around the stage, grinning a toothy, vaguely idiotic grin, Larrikin carries his band through a whistle-stop, 25 minute set exploring the realms of Clash style punk-rock-reggae and manic, bluegrass-tinted folk numbers.
But whilst Downing Street Kindling, the band's powerful salute to political and cultural disillusion in Britain is still exciting and fresh, too much of their set lacks distinction, and genuine highlights are lost in a meandering, unfocused fug.
Whilst they are not poised to set the musical nation ablaze, if Larrikin can filter their youthful endeavour through their cultural influences they could definitely be a yawn-free prospect for the future.