EVER had a band or artist you loved so much for so long, and then they finally make it – and a part of you is gone forever?

Of course, you are thrilled that the public get to see what to you was evident from the moment you first heard them in the back room of some godforsaken pub.

But once they are public property, it’s never quite the same. It’s a bittersweet thing. But we get over it... and, eventually, there’s real pleasure in seeing their success.

The Germans, who came up with schadenfreude (“delight in misfortune”) and liebestod (“love-death”) probably have a compound noun for it. ‘Success-pain’ doesn’t quite cover it, but you get my drift.

Like TS Eliot, measuring out Prufrock’s life in coffee spoons, I can pretty much trace my adult life by artists who have gripped me before taking off or crashing into obscurity - or sometimes, as with Loudon Wainwright III, Wire and Devo – establishing a kind of cult status, without ever troubling the charts.

I’m not alone either, a good friend of mine (your secret is safe, Sam Rowntree), once revered the band Gentle Giant to the point of distraction. Over the years, my ‘Gentle Giants’ have been The Idle Race, Phil Ochs, Television Personalities, Tiny Tim, The Members, Trash Can Sinatras, Any Trouble and scores more. Some ‘Gentle Giants’ have made it too: The Cure, The Smiths, Elvis Costello, Arcade Fire and others.

To this latter list, we can add the wonderful Crookes. Two years ago last week, they were an unknown support act. Their vibrant, melodic pop thrilled a lucky audience of 30 in the City Screen Basement; we knew immediately we had witnessed something extraordinary.

They sealed the deal with an acapella foray into the middle of the small crowd, beguiling us with unashamed lyrical romanticism. It was a great moment. I have since seen them four times, most recently at the start of the tour that brings them to York on Tuesday. The energy is even sharper, reminiscent of the passion and drive that the new wave brought half a lifetime ago.

But now, singer and bass player George Waite, drummer Russell Bates, and guitarist Alex Saunders, have added ‘epic’ to the repertoire of lyrics penned by the band’s other guitarist, Daniel Hopewell.

The song City Of Lights hints at a huge depth and range to come; while their magnificent true story-song, The Crookes Laundry Murder 1922, has the feel of a long-lost Moz classic that might have been on The Queen Is Dead.

Every so often a band comes along to remind you of the regenerative power of great pop music. It’s The Crookes’ turn now.

• The Crookes play Fibbers, York, on Tuesday, 8pm.

Dave Nicholson recommends five great “unknowns”

Scores of great artists await their breakthrough. Check out anything by Bonnie Prince Billy, Phosphorescent, Bon Iver, The Head And The Heart, Jenny Lewis, Laura Cantrell, Micah P Hinson, Neutral Milk Hotel, Ron Sexsmith or Conor Oberst and Bright Eyes.

But if I had to suggest five great albums by ‘unknowns’, these would feature:

1. The Low Anthem: Oh My God Charlie Darwin. Americana with shades of Dylan and The Band.

2. Okkervil River: The Stage Names. Alt-country masterwork from Will Sheff and his troupe of multi-instrumentalists.

3. Michael Marra: Posted Sober. World famous – in Dundee! Scotland’s genius songwriter, often compared to Randy Newman.

4. Clem Snide: Soft Spot: Half a dozen excellent albums. Singer Eef Barzelay delivers more delicious heartbreaking country-tinged irony in one line than X-Factor managed in eight seasons.

5. Old Crow Medicine Show: OCMS. Rollicking old-time Nashville country band mix jigs with achingly beautiful ballads and love songs that link a fast-vanishing America to the modern day.