Bob Stanley and Pete Wiggs, the retro-fanatical boys of pop sophisticates St Etienne, have been given Eclipse, a label imprint long dormant within the annals of Universal Records. Encompassing Philips, Decca, A&M, Island, Polydor, Mercury, ABC, Dunhill, MCA, it’s a second-hand record store come to life — the boys must be delirious.

For starters, they have compiled Dusty Springfield’s Complete A&B Sides: 1963-69. They have also resurrected Chris Montez, the Cali-Mexican lad best known for his 1962 rocker Let’s Dance. Yet Call Me: The A&M Years covers his bossa-nova years, during which his effete delivery makes Astrid Gilberto sound like Tom Waits.

But the real find is the Peddlers’ Suite London. It’s rare that a band whose fans included Princess Margaret and Eric Sykes is a cause for rediscovery, but then the Peddlers weren’t just another band. In the pop-rock world of the 1960s they were MOR squares, but in truth they were singularly suave pop-jazz minimalists who haven’t dated a jot, unlike many of their peers.

The original trio’s last album has been neglected (though not by Zero 7, who covered I Have Seen in 2001), probably because loose concept albums about city life, backed by the London Philharmonic Orchestra, never satisfied narrow-minded prog, jazz or pop lovers. But we now live in less divided times, and the album (plus six like- minded singles tagged on) is an absolute beauty. Gliding between funk, soul and orchestral pop, it showcases a Fender Rhodes piano and Hammond organ as they were meant to be played, all iced by the simultaneously silken and gritty vocal of keyboardist Roy Phillips. You can bet both DJ Shadow and Rufus Wainwright will love this, and so should you, even if you are jealous that you didn’t get offered the job of rescuing records.