The Weakerthans

The-Wireless-Stores enter stage left to face a packed Garage. From the get-go, it's clear there's something special about them. Fronted by ex-Bivouac man Paul Yeadon, their sound is somewhat erratic, swinging between tender emo odes and riff-driven, surging rock [pitching their tents somewhere in the no-mans-land between QOTSA, Foo Fighters and early Placebo]. But their lorryload of shining pop hooks weld it into one coherent, memorable shape, recalling a nostalgic time before Feeder discovered string sections. They avoid the whiny, self-indulgent territory that swallows so many emo bands, keeping the emotion restrained and thus all the more effective, and slamming the pedal to the metal on the faster numbers. Bands imbued with both promise and precision in such heady amounts are something of a rarity - keep an eye on them.

It's a miracle Ohio's Brandtson even made it into the building. At 6pm this evening, they were reported to be stranded at Dover, the victims of an unhappy dispute regarding visas. Nevertheless, their gear is promptly set up as soon as The-Wireless-Stores exit the stage. Fuck knows how fast they drove to get here on time, but whatever damage was inflicted on the accelerator pedal of their van, it was worth it. Polished and professional despite the lack of a soundcheck, they've been doing the rounds for a while now, and it shows; no amateurish spirit here, Brandtson's vigorous, searing post-hardcore output is well-honed and, like The-Wireless-Stores, possessed of a strong sense of urgent melody and rhythm.

With support of this calibre, The Weakerthans have a lot to live up to. Their sleepy, nostalgic folk-emo fare brings a mellow close to the evening, and in less capable hands, this could be disappointing given the energy of the previous bands, but they seem almost effortless in their confidence. As a roomful of happy =emo= kids raise their voices to even the newest, unreleased material, forgotten lyrics are taken in their stride [with forfeit fivers being good-humouredly paid out by the singer for every error] and the band deliver an upbeat, winning performance that more than justifies this gig selling out. They're very much a fans' band, dragging a grinning, semi-naked fan onstage to play guitar during the encore, much to his glee; with performances like this, little wonder their fans hold them in such high regard.