"They haven't played together for a couple of months, so let us give an extra warm welcome to Keane!" hollered Virgin Radio's host to a handful of competition winners clustered around the tiny stage nestled within a cosy third storey studio room off Oxford Street.

And it really is tough to perceive Keane as anything but warm. And cosy. The achingly melodic, piano-based, indie pop-rock the three young chaps champion drifts over you in a haze of irresistibly catchy riffs and hooks, settling comfortingly on your shoulders like an old cashmere blanket.

Their unique brand of posh'n'roll stems from their upbringing: born into middleclass comfort in East Sussex, meeting at frightfully nice public school, Tonbridge, and even charmingly naming their band after Cherry Keane, a Tonbridge tea lady.

Spiffing. At last night's intimate performance it wasn't so much tea but the harder stuff that everyone was waiting to see if lead singer Tom Chaplin - formerly of the Priory - would start imbibing.

Yet it was with Evian in hand that Tom shuffled on stage. And with obvious sobriety he entertained the enamoured audience with his smoothly operatic, Brandon Flowers-esque falsetto, and darlingly polite manner, periodically thanking everyone for coming; for making them feel so welcome and loved.

Although all eyes were on Tom, Keane's music is hugely indebted to the ivory tinkling of the swarthy Tim Rice-Oxley whose piano melodies distinguish the band from acts such as Coldplay, Travis, and Snow Patrol.

Mild-mannered melanges of major to minor key changes in Everybody's Changing, Somewhere Only We Know, Is It Any Wonder?, and current single A Bad Dream are effortlessly catchy but within themselves often become monotonously cyclical. And for a 10-year alliance, the trio's back catalogue occasionally wore thin.

The wispy-haired, cherubfaced front man, complete with awkward microphone stand twirls, may also make Lil'Chris resemble Mick Jagger, but Keane's is a panoramic sort of stadium filling pop-rock, the type that litters the soundtracks of romantic movies.

No hint of Tom turning green and pulling an Amy Wino dash to the loo mid-set - after nearly an hour of congenial acoustic music.

Beaming Tom instead had to be coaxed off stage by his bandmates before he split his black skinny jeans from excessive bowing.

I doubt The Priory run sessions for that, so perhaps Keane are here to stay.