Wolf Parade are pissed off. They've just detoured the length of Ireland, caught a ferry across a violent Irish Sea and driven several hours through the pouring rain and pitch black just so they could perform in front of 150 drunk Bristolians. They've arrived three hours after doors were due to open, had a rushed soundcheck and are now enduring heckles from students with more Dutch courage than a sense of humour, it seems. So they have every reason to be pissed off.

Matters don't exactly get better during the first song. The keyboard is way too quiet, the vocals are so loud they're barely distinguishable and then suddenly, nothing. The lights go off and a few acoustic strums remain. Where lesser bands may have held up their hands and given up after such a medley of natural and technological calamities, this is where the five-piece from Canada (where else, right?) come into their own. The rapturous applause from the crowd at first seems sarcastic, but in fact is probably more celebratory: now we get to see the real band. We're stripping away the egos and the pre-conceived stage show and witnessing a group of musicians at their absolute prime in the face of diversity. “I think everything I own just got fried,” quips Hadji Bakara, the in-band laptop wizard.

With the power faithfully restored and computers rebooted, launching into 'Dear Sons And Daughters Of Hungry Ghosts' feels like tiptoeing to the edge of a cliff before flinging yourself off and bouncing off every ledge on the way down. The lyric “God doesn't always have the best Goddamn laid plans” seems beautifully apt just as Dante DeCaro manages to break the first of two tambourines to meet their grisly demise during the show.

The set list is barely even relevant tonight; the hype around the band is enough to entice ears (Isaac Brock produced the album and got them signed to Sub Pop, thus loaning his name out to journalists everywhere to make convenient comparisons). They certainly do lend handsomely from Modest Mouse as well as clear hints of more recent Trail Of Dead and also some hey-day Iggy in the instrumentation but inevitably the vocals are the deal-breaker. Spencer Krug's self-defined 'yodel' is a wonderful companion for fellow front-man Dan Boeckner's world-weary howl, the two combining to great effect the whole way through.

Despite frenzied shouts of “'Grounds For Divorce'!” and “'Modern World'! 'MODERN WORLD'!” they instead choose to end on 'I'll Believe In Anything' at once disappointing but respect-earning. Wolf Parade aren't here to be 'the hot new act' but at the same time they're not obnoxious enough to tell us that. They're just a take-us-as-you-see-us kind of band and if their debut 'Apologies To The Queen Mary' doesn't reach the upper echelons of your Best Of 2005 lists, I will be demanding a recount.