Pitchshifter (2002 style) seem to find themselves in a position of holding ground and treading water in a world where commercial success seems to be only a hair’s breadth away everytime a new album comes out. With a seemingly constantly rotating line-up, they resemble less a band than a collective of like-minded nu-metallists with a common goal. With recent releases stepping back from the abstract amalgamation of nu-metal, industrial, techno-punk and electronica infused with an anarchic and archaic attitude of before to a more straight ahead fluid, organic metal sound, you could be forgiven for wondering if they’ve made a backwards step. Tonight shows its only the hairstyles that are going backwards.

While Jim Davies (the man who brought us the guitar riff for the Prodigy’s 'Firestarter' , but Liam Howlett will never admit to that!) is happy to bounce around on stage with his Moog t-shirt playing Guns N’ Roses songs in instrumental breaks, frontman J.S.Clayden is like a man on a mission. Two missions actually: to inform and educate, and to rock. Judging by the bounciness of the pit and the Anti-corporate leaflets handed out at the T-Shirt stall they've succeeded in their mission. Sporting a new haircut obviously stolen from the Hundred Reasons school of big-afro rock haircuts doesn’t hurt neither.

Taking influences form techno and metal, it seems they’re never content just to plough ahead without trying something new. With a set that straddles their last 3 albums, it’s punchy, catchy, aggressive and melodic nu-metal, but not in the way of the bands you see on Top of the Pops. Tracks like 'Eight Days' and the anti-censorship 'Keep it Clean' showcase the control of dynamics and melody, combined with maladjusted and dissatisfied lyrics reflecting a social conscience most bands lack in their self-obsessed introspection - as anyone who’s heard Muddle of Pudd’s sub-Nirvana 'She Hates Me' and cringed at it will testify. The anti-racism rant of 'Please Sir' easily puts that bullshit into perspective, with lyrics like “tell me why there’s no Black Superman?” showing a lyrical concern that goes outside your bedroom door. It’s brutal yet controlled, loud and precise, and a spotwelding of genres that ignores the conventional and artificial limits and tries to span something new, while giving you something to sing as well as think about.

If the Proof is in the pudding, then the pudding is rock. Or techno. Or drum n’ bass, or whatever. By ignoring boundaries and doing whatever they happen to want to do, Pitchshifter take the punk ethos to its logical musical conclusion without forgetting the importance of writing songs and breaking down barriers both lyrically and musicially. Pitchshifter show themselves to be one of the most important bands in the UK scene today – even if the sales figures don’t reflect this. Musically they’ll be remembered a long time after the derivative and unoriginal AOR-rock shite of Nickelback and Muddle of Pudd who'll hopefully go to that AOR grunge-ballad graveyard in the sky now inhabitied by the likes of Warrant or Poison. This is more like Big Black than Big Country, thank fuck.

Pitchshifter matter, and that’s more than most of your forcefed MTV 2 crap out there does. And if you don’t like it, well… go back to your safe unthreatening anthemic guitar rock that wants to stay locked in by its marketing demographic. Go back to listening to your Shining and Quoasis or NickelShite records, Smash Hits TV and unthreatening conformity. Pitchshifter mean more than that ever will.