Have you ever wanted to take a venue and all it's occupants home with you? If the answer's no then I guess you've never been to the Roadmenders. If Northampton isn't the most salubrious of locations, then this ornate setting and it's overly friendly inhabitants at least make it's stain on the map a little more worthwhile...

But enough of the pleasantries. East Londoners Boy Kill Boy had a lot to live up to this evening. Filling in for the mumps-stricken Nine Black Alps, their tour of Britpop - the 1982 to 1996 years - synthpunkpop fits in quite neatly with the current penchant for all things Duran-esque, except that songs like 'Civil Sin' and current single 'Suzie' give them a raw edge like Supergrass' 'I Should Coco' if the collective talents of The Killers and The Bravery joined forces to re-record it. Throughout the set, their singer seems to have his pork pie-cum-bowler hat superglued to his head, part-Alex from 'A Clockwork Orange', the rest like the nutty dancer (Chas Smash?) from Madness. They're a delight to watch and with tunes this engaging, big things are surely just over the horizon.

Next up are The Rakes, already making a name for themselves as possibly the most exciting live band in the UK at this moment in time. No matter how many times you see and hear these songs, the majority of which have filled their repertoire for the past 18 months or more, something new always seems to happen the next time. Like on 'Terror!', where the added coda at the end makes its gothic skank sound like an updated sequel to the Specials' 'Ghost Town', or forthcoming single 'Pub, Club, Sleep (Work, Work, Work)', which now regales the intro from Pulp's 'Disco 2000' into a fully fledged anthem about day-to-day drudgery. Of course no Rakes show would be complete without Alan Donohoe's furious dancing, and when the epileptic fit inducing trio of '22 Grand Job', 'Strasbourg' and 'Just Got Paid' close the set, Donohoe's limbs have taken more twists and turns than string enhanced puppet buffeted between each corner of its wooden box.

Which is an ideal place to start on Maximo Park, and in particular their singer Paul Smith, a man who could easily have been mistaken for a Spitting Image caricature of Alan Partridge as modelled by Jarvis Cocker a decade ago. With two very difficult acts to follow, Maximo Park have it all to do and in the beginning, things don't look too promising as 'Signal And Sign' and 'The Coast Is Always Changing' pass by with not so much as a whimper out of the seemingly bashful frontman.

Thankfully, parity is restored and after one or two half-pogo, half-mule kicks Smith's charisma takes hold and the likes of 'Graffiti' and 'Once A Glimpse' sound like songs of praise to an alternative God in the making. Although still a little light on material, what Maximo Park lack in quantity they make up for with the substantial quality of what is on offer. The jury is still undecided as to whether they quite manage to pull-off headlining such an event as this (although ANYONE coming on after The Rakes would be a disappointment of sorts), but with time, there's no reason why their live show shouldn't live up to the promise of their (as yet) far superior studio works.

Photographs courtesy of Ian Hales - lead photo by Adie Nunn