This is what happens at old-school shows: the crowd grows. Now, I’m no midget – far from it, I’m the best part of six English feet – but I’ve grown accustomed to kiddie-punk crowds; shows where neatly coifed girls and boys stand hand-in-hand, bleeding their hearts dry to the sounds of the latest screamo sensations. But Hot Water Music aren’t the latest anything, despite the titular promise of their most recent long-play effort, The New What Next.

They’re old hands at the punk game, and tonight’s spectators are likewise. The gruff-of-voice Gainesville-ites have to wait in the wings initially, as Boston’s The Explosion threaten to steal their thunder and make a dash for the back door. The quintet’s alarmingly infectious pop-punk is comparable to an array of other, less-focused bands, but it’s history that makes The Explosion worthy of your attention. Since their earliest days, the band’s vision hasn’t blurred, nor have ethics been compromised for the fattest cheque. Now in their seventh year – at least – the buzz punk outfit of 2005 (copyright: just about everyone at Radio 1) kick off their set with their call to arms: ‘E.X.P.L.O.S.I.O.N.’.

From shoulder height, view obscured by hundreds of punched fists and pounding feet, I’m heartily singing along.

‘God Bless The S.O.S.’ is another belter from yesteryear, catchier than colds in old peoples homes. Then, after what seems like no time at all, they’re gone, back into the shadows, departing stage right to make way for one of the classic punk outfits of our time. Say what you will of Hot Water Music – that they’re creatively outdated and commercially unloved, that their relentlessly formulaic style breaks no boundaries and conquers no uncharted territory – and chances are you’d be right. Thing is, they’re like this because they did the groundwork; they dug the trenches and laid the foundations for so much of today’s mainstream punk scene. Young(ish) upstarts like The Explosion owe Hot Water Music a degree of gratitude. The Glassjaws and Thursdays of this world owe them respect. They are untouchable within their genre, and are rightfully received like friends, rather than just another emo-slash-punk band from overseas.

New tracks from their aforementioned third Epitaph release are dispatched with as much vigour as older classics. ‘The Ebb And Flow’ might not attract the wholehearted sing-along treatment this time out, but give it a year and it’ll be up there with ‘Trusty Chords’ and ‘Free Radio Gainesville’. In time they’ll get their public dues from a wealth of contemporary talent; right now they remain clutched to the hearts of the men stood left, right and centre. All of who are taller than I am; all of who love this band like I never could. I never got there early. I never bought into Hot Water Music until the later releases. I never dared to dream that such comparative simplicity could touch so many.

Sure I can’t see, still, but even with my vision restricted it’s clear what I’ve been missing out on.