Art Brut

They say you can take the boy out of London but you can't take London out of the boy.

Although there is something deeply capital (as in "city" not monetary terms) about Neils Children, in both the way they look and the bookish flippant sound that could wake the entire population of Aldgate cemetery twofold, their repertoire could fit itself into any of the last three decades with consumate ease.

If the opening thrash of 'Stupid Band' displays a tinge of late 80s indie melee, then the fun really begins with stop-start Kinks giving birth to the Gang Of Four jerkathon 'Trying To Be Someone Else For Free' and the reverb heavy 'How Does It Feel Now You're On Your Own', which is possibly what The Specials would have sounded like in 1979 had they followed the Rough Trade blueprint rather than invent their own.

When leader of the Children John Linger screams "Everybody here, makes me feel annoyed!" at the start of an apocalyptic 'Come Down', you know he really, REALLY, means it, maaannn. At the end there's an obligatory stage invasion from the imposing figure of Eddie Argos and the improvised "super group" runs through something called 'Popthings' which consists of various parts of Pink Floyd's 'Interstellar Overdrive' welded together by Argos' various rants' ranging from cocksucking in surgical masks to the obligatory "Art Brut - Top Of The Pops!" finale.

So what is it that makes an ex-postie from south of the Thames who looks like David Walliams' Sebastian character from 'Little Britain' one of the most engaging, compelling, and occasionally downright absurd frontmen to emerge from these shores in donkey's years?

If first impressions count, his awkward, gangly frame should be supplemented by a gawkish persona that would see him laughed out of most venues after approximately 60 seconds. Except his gallant nonchalance is more than just a poke in the eye for those intent on ridiculing the seemingly ridiculous.

It certainly isn't Art Brut's recorded output to date either, which at times has sounded more like Goldie Lookin' Chain's more eloquent and better dressed cousins than revolutionaries for the second coming of pop art.

And yet the likes of 'Bang, Bang, Rock And Roll' and 'Modern Art' sound so life affirming tonight. "Once is enough!" shrieks the man self-christened after the UK's number one catalogue retailers as he puts down the last thirty years of pop culture single-handedly, while on 'Moving To L.A.' he proudly declares that Axl Rose can paint his toes. Lovely.

As a collective of disparate individuals, Art Brut aren't just preaching to those living on the outskirts of the "norm", they are bonafide outsiders themselves, with guitarist Chris Chinchilla looking every inch like the village bank clerk bunking off every weekend for his... shhhh... whisper it, weekend fix of dirty rock'n'roll, and drummer Mike's appropriation to Muppets sticksman Animal due to his propensity to just standing there and beating the living daylight out of his kit. Technique and rhythm, you're having a laugh, right?

In theory it shouldn't work but as a live spectacle Art Brut are about as exciting as it gets at the moment, and long after the band have packed their gear away and headed back down the M1, Pelham Street is awake with cries of "Art Brut - Top Of The Pops!". Reggie Yates you have been warned.