“Words, they mean nothing” Doves once cooed, and while tonight’s gig is light on vocals, it’s definitely heavy on passion.

The Scarlet Letter Union get things started, with the singer standing alone with just a guitar and drum machine. There is a delicacy behind the screeching sounds emanating from the amps which sets the night up nicely.

Four-piece They Don’t Sleep… open with ‘Scarecrow’, but they’re anything but lifeless with a soaring set which tugs heavily at the heart and begs for listening ears from a packed Joiners. The songs have the sweeping beauty of early Mogwai, with enough emotion to enrich the soul and stretch the imagination. ‘The Others’ is thankfully nothing like the egotistical band of the same name, but an ode to being down and out, which is both mournful and aggressive. Beginning as a weeping keyboard-led tale of melancholy, it sharply U-turns to break out as a heavy aural assault. The crowd’s jubilant reaction at the end is a clear sign that the band have won over all those privileged enough to hear them.

Brenda have a tough act to follow, and with their singer resembling Darius in his ill-fated ‘Hit Me Baby (One More Time)’ phase, things don’t look good. However his vocals sound nothing like a Scottish Papstar, instead resembling Jeff Buckley in his ‘Sketches’ period. You get the feeling a band is going to be good when they start their set by sampling the feedback off a saucepan lid. What follows are songs that are more inventive in thirty seconds than the entire career of ninety per cent of bands. Looping vocal tracks, incessant beats and hypnotic guitar lines all combine into a a sound which is truly like no other. Amazing.

After support from such emotionally challenging bands, you feel like you need a lie-down by the time 65 Days of Static take the stage. “We haven’t slept in four days”, they claim before adding that “Taking speed is cheating!”

However this is in no ways a sleepy set and is at times, played at amphetamine-speeds. The fact that there are no vocals whatsoever seems to pass you by as the music takes you to places where it doesn’t seem to matter. The mics are only plugged in so the band can talk to the crowd in a frank, funny manner which belies their beat-heavy industrial music.

The bass is crunching and bleed-inducing to the ears and anybody not moving at least one limb really should consider seeing a doctor. ‘Hole’ is perfect pop in a totally uncommercial sense, which obviously doesn’t make much sense, but at the time everything seems to come together and feel so perfect. More art than music, this stirs something most bands talk about but never get close to reaching.

Words really do mean nothing, sometimes.