Rolo Tamassi / Mirror! Mirror! / Wintermute

@ Leeds Cockpit

There are a few bodies present for Wintermute, but seeing as this is a band that need an audience to shine, they are not their usual bouncy selves tonight. Don't get me wrong, they're still as tight as a gnat's chuff, they just lack that sheen. The muddy sound also does a 'splendid' job of smothering any complexity and even the unflappable Chris is reduced to playing to drummer Ben. To give Dan his due, he does throw all he has left into the performance, but the corrugated iron roof is unforgivingly absorbent. A pity, but I can imagine at the moment they are itching to tour, get the EP out there and 'move things on.' The impatience is tangible.

Mirror! Mirror! – not to be confused with the Brooklyn prog-psych band Mirror Mirror – are very young; the drummer (Paul Wechter) looks pre-school. But man can he play those drums! Sounding like a 2-tone Rapture / Futureheads crossover, M!M! are full of life, themselves and riffs, but don't quite have a song yet. Alex Wiezak and Michael Neale definitely know their way around a guitar, but Stephen Broadley is not the best singer / frontman, even when he does shed his top and pick up a cowbell; he sounds like a poor impression of Johnny Rotten. Essentially, the potential is there, it just needs to be channelled.

Eva Spence looks like Minnie Mouse, in bobbed human form. She screams like Lee Dorian in Napalm Death form. This is typical of the head on collision that is Rolo Tomassi. Electronics and hardcore come into extinction level event impact, but not in the sort of info squirts that early thrash was so proud of. Songs are of epic proportions, have dynamics, ralentandos, Nintendos and other such complexities – Joseph Nicholson plays like Fripp (even when he isn't playing), Joseph Thorpe like Claypool, James Spence climbs the speaker stack and sings with his sister like some f*cked up Kylie and Jason. It makes the adrenalin gurgle in your veins and the brain flip in your skull... it's like being trapped in a 90's 2D shoot-em-up or a Cronenbergian psychotic episode. All the experimental fusion of the nineties with all the tech of the noughties. Deviant joygasm.

Rob Wright

Flamboyant Bella

@ Leicester Charlotte

Indie popsters Flamboyant Bella, if you don't already know, are a Jamie T / Kate Nash hybrid, proudly sporting what is likely to be the summer 08 Topshop range like they were the lovechild of the high street retailer and teen phenomenon T4. Energetically hemming together a Nash like plinky Cassio keyboard with a T like clean channel Fender, it would be easy to dismiss the Bella on the grounds of a formulaic approach: a chain store combination of unlikely-to-fail elements of popular culture designed to occupy interest for the duration of the skinny jean and no longer.

The crowd only seemed to only feed my initial scepticism. Boys in girl's jeans, girls in flicky out floral dress things designed by Kate Moss, brightly coloured sunglasses designed by Timmy Mallet. For a brief moment I imagined the slightly grimy yet stalwart live venue to be some sort of storefront window and in doing so, suffered a mild freak out where I confused the other punters for a set of petrifying, neatly dressed manikins in pastille colours. Luckily it wasn't long before they became animated and intoxicated by the wonderfully tight and hopelessly endearing Flamboyant Bella.

Their compendium of three minute, summery, stop rhythm pop garments do admittedly linger around a similar subject matter: namely getting "wankered", angst riddled relationships and getting "wankered" because of an angst riddled relationship. This is all delivered in what must be a now familiar exaggerated cockney not too dissimilar to the likes of Nash or Allen. Not to do them an injustice however, they do the whole thing exceedingly well live, sending the young crowd of fancy hair into a frenzy around the single "Touch" and a barnstorming final three tunes where the old man here even tapped a foot or two. The boy / girl front pairing work terribly well also, like a less camp version of the Alpha-beats, subtly concealing a couple of lovely voices beneath the mockney brash.

So well done the Bella. Whilst certainly not the most original of acts they rise above the palatable array of hyperglo, street orientated chav-proud pop. You entertained me, as well as might I say, made me feel all dirty inside.

Paul Lynch

Future of The Left / Working For A Nuclear Free City / Dinosaur Pile Up

@ Sheffield Harley

Rumblings underground and appearances on the BBC Introducing stage at Leeds and Reading make Dinosaur Pile Up a hot ticket at the moment. Weezeresque harmonies play over laid-back drums on 'I Get My Direction From...'. Comparisons to American Punk Husker Dü legends are not unjustified as they thrash through 'Rock and Roll's power basslines gaining momentum to crush the opposition underfoot.

Seemingly always filed under 'up and coming' Working For A Nuclear Free City seem to have been Manchester's nearly men for years. Their slightly darker sound hints at a change in direction. 'Dead Fingers Talking' raises inevitable Ian Brown comparisons with its swaggering style and hails of distorted keyboard noise. Bringing something else to the table, 'Kingdom' has a less obvious Manc sound and is all the better for it. Maybe this time they'll get the breakthrough they need.

Looking to do more than just shred eardrums Future of The Left's intense brand of cerebral rock aims for maximum impact. When 'Plague of Onces' hits even the idlest of bystanders lets themselves get carried along on a wave of crunching bass and screeching vocals. Sticking two fingers up at the Tory brigade 'F*ck The Countryside Alliance' is a statement of serious intent. Singer Andrew Falkous screeches like an enraged Welsh dragon 'you sleep with devils and we'll wash our hands'.

Decidedly heavier and gutsier 'Small Bone Small Bodies' starts a mini riot of frenzied movement marked with some amusement by the band;' a Sheffield crowd dancing. I've never seen the like'. Exploding out from the small stage 'a dead enemy always smells good' signals the start of the chaos. Drummer Jack Egglestone plays cymbals with everything to hand, including his head. Bass player Kelson Matthias immerses himself in the crowd, the drum kit following soon after. As the last chord rings out and exhausted calm descends along with a sense of blissful delirium. The crowd staggers off into the night, sweaty, disorientated and ready to do it all over again.

Kate Parkin

Stephen Malkmus and The Jicks

@ Nottingham Rescue Rooms

Tonight was the fourth of a seven date UK tour to promote new LP Real Emotinal Trash, Malkmus's fourth solo album since Pavement's end of the century break.

The crowd was healthy (in number), eager, and fortunate to be watching such an influential act in the cosy Rescue Rooms. He and the capable Jicks worked through first album opener Black Books, followed by Post-Paint Boy and Pencil Rot etc., the latter two standing out more than anything from the new record – a good record nonetheless.

You expect lengthy solos from such a talented guitarist, one previously involved with Pavement. Tonight these did not, though, detract from the quality of the set as they may have done with most tracks veering off very tunefully. Of course not everybody would like such extensions, which is why we have 4Music and an ample selection of straw-hatted tosser bands – none of whom, incidentally, are fit to comb Malkmus's thick hair.

Pavement were together for over ten years which is almost as long as this current project, a project doing just nicely by all accounts (record ticket sales etc). Pavement members feature other projects, notably Scott Kannberg in Preston School of Industry. So would those who keep requesting Pavement tracks stop bumming well doing it! The tickets say Stephen Malkmus and The Jicks. Just try to wait, if you think you can, until all parties decide to reform the old band. What is the point of going to these types of gigs if all you care about is the past? In the main you know you will be disappointed.

The band returned for a decent encore, bantering with the crowd, before finishing off with Face the Truth's terrific Baby C'Mon, one of the nights more accessible tracks judging by the happy reaction it won. Good stuff overall.

Tom Whitworth

The Anomalies / Papa Les Bas

@ Nottingham Social

A strange young band the Anomalies. A somewhat bizarre mix of hip-hop and, well, indie, or at least trendy indie. So it's not a surprise to find them on a slightly strange four-band bill immediately backed up by Papa Les Bas. PLB are essentially snotty punks with an excellent violin player who is painfully underused. Their set is roundly cheered however it's a gaggle of local friends who seem to make up the core of this suspiciously exuberant crowd.

This is backed up by the fairly thin crowd who meet our excellent headliners this evening. It's true that the Anomalies' profile is probably not high enough to headline somewhere like the Social far away from their native Hereford however their talent is more than comfortable on this stage. It's a pity then, that this is the case as the band seem constantly conscious of time and even curtail a planned encore despite their confident set.

They first came to this reviewers attention having popped up on my semi-broken Czech MP3 player as if from nowhere with their incredible tracks Howz That and The Great Escape. Their plucky, amusing chat is constantly engaging with the cringingly-named Mouthmaster Murf spinning most of the rhymes in fine style. He is flanked by Sam "Goldseal" who fronts the more "indie" style tunes which fall annoyingly close to the Artic Monkeys cheeky accent-led angular guitar however as soon as their DJ ('Mayhem') kicks in and their riffs get a-going they're hard to resist. Finishing with their perfectly catchy single Kid Riot after an impressive freestyle session getting random objects from the audience and relating them to Gary Glitter and Sex The Anomalies will hopefully stuck in a few Nottingham mind as just that: oddballs.

review & pic: Alex Lawson

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