To an almost empty room, Ueh start to play their apparently freeform psychedelic mouldings of sound, tides of noise and inimitable instrumental wizardry. Laetitia Sadier of Monade skulks around the back of the room for a while, before taking to the stage and thwacking a tambourine like a cool version of the Australian hippy from This Is Spinal Tap. But the focus remains on the core four of Ueh, who inform us at the beginning of their set that their usual drummer is not in attendance because "he is in jail". Can't say fairer than that.

With an apparently hired hand of a percussionist, one might expect a degree of looseness and danger to permeate the set. Happily, there is nothing tonight except wonderful precision, peaks and troughs that weave a mesh of brilliant colours and dripping atmosphere, all quivering-knee guitar pedals, bowed bass and transistor radio solos. By the end, the room is full and rapt.

Fugu's guitarist looks disturbingly similar to the current scourge of youth culture, Lil' Chris. Thankfully, he doesn't have the same insipid wobble to him, nor the deathly stench of institutional interference. For Fugu, sunshine and melody is paramount. Their stellar harmonies smack of childhoods spent in the thrall of The Byrds and The Beach Boys, their guitars ring with the assurance of, oddly enough, McFly, and their chiming keys sound for all the world like the work John Lennon. Such derivations aside, Fugu stomp admirably through a set that, after Ueh, would be a tricky one to impress with. But impress they do, thanks to the sheer insistence of their charms and their knack with a wry tune.

Laetitia Sadier's Monade are now more muscular than they've ever been. They've stealthily become fantastic in a way that no-one could have predicted. With a steady line-up on the brink of becoming telepathically intuitive, we see Monade at the first peak on the long climb to the bullet-proof status of Sadier's other projects. With the clanging majesty of the climax to 'Wash and Dance' pinging around the room and finding its way to each corner, and the sighing, elegiac version of Chic's 'At Last I Am Free' in their arsenal, Monade are already proving that offence is way more interesting than deflecting bullets. They are, especially from our perch sat down at the front, effortlessly entertaining.

The mingling voices of Laetitia Sadier and Marie Merlet bob and weave in and out of focus, the gently jarring tone-wide clashes augmenting the merry jangle perfectly. Dynamically, the ensemble is capable of soaring from a percussive melee of a wig-out to a hushed vocal counterpoint in a deconstruction taking only seconds. It is honestly thrilling to watch such studied song-craft being deployed in a fashion as varied, with this much strength of timbre and this much personality.