The Rifles

Sheffield four-piece Milburn seem to have brought half the inhabitants of the Steel City with them this evening, which is just as well because without their fanatical support one suspects they wouldn't get anywhere as much attention.

That said, they're not a bad live band - far from it in fact. It's just that you can't help but feel if it weren't for a certain Other Band's success from the same neck of the woods, their lads-on-the-piss-style punk-pop would have remained virtually unknown beyond junctions 33 and 34 of the M1.

Milburn's set can be split into two halves, the good half of which is actually quite sublime: 'Storm In A Teacup' and 'Cheshire Cat Smile' bounce along like a latterday Specials on ProPlus, while 'What You Could've Won' is as ferocious a set closer as you'll hear all year, trust me. Unfortunately, parts of their repertoire - such as forthcoming single 'Send In The Boys' - ape the Monkeys to the point where if you close your eyes you can almost visualise Alex Turner standing there mouthing the words.

The Rifles seemingly epitomise the current spirit of British music at the moment: it's all 1979 on their stereo and in their wardrobes, and what's more, they aren't afraid to shout it loud and proud from the rooftops.

But before anyone thinks about phoning the plagiarism police, let's examine the facts. Unlike other bands, who shall remain nameless, their tunes actually possess a degree of authenticity, in that whenever you hear one of their songs you immediately know who it is rather than thinking it to be some long forgotten relic of A.N.Other band. More to the point, they are an enthralling live outfit.

Singer Joel Stoker may look and occasionally sound for all the world like a young Weller, but the sheer virtuosity that sees him swap his guitar for javelin-like mic' stand on 'Fat Cat' before picking up the six-string again for an energetic rush through the soon-to-be re-released 'Peace And Quiet' takes some effort to watch, let alone actually partake in.

The Rifles are also one in the face for word-of-mouth over heavy advertising, as the last time they played here there must have been all of 20 people actually watching. Tonight, the venue is packed solid with people singing along to every word, even the as-yet-unreleased ones.

'Holiday In The Sun' is the most vitriolic slice of dub-ska-punk since The Clash unleashed 'Guns Of Brixton' _nearly thirty years ago, while the delightfully gloomy _'When I'm Alone' is what Interpol would sound like if they loosened their ties a little and listened to Northern Soul rather than A Northern Soul.

At the end, Stoker looks a little bewildered at the fuss his band have caused this evening. He shouldn't be - there's gonna be a whole lot more of it coming his way over the next few months.