You know you’ve been to the Barfly when: the stamp on your hand hasn’t washed off properly three days after the event; the words ‘hash’, ‘weed’ and ‘marijuana’ spin about your synapses when you sleep; and the twenty you took out with the intention of buying a single drink and maybe a badge has been reduced to fifteen pence, some pocket fluff and no badge. Tonight, London’s hottest venue (we’re talking temperature – even when the outside air plunges below freezing, the first floor of the Barfly remains subtropical) is graced by four very different acts calling the same stable home, for now anyway: the Big Scary Monsters Christmas tour is in town, and even Santa himself is present to enjoy the rock.

DiS misses Days Ago’s excellent post-hardcore as the four-piece are forced to play upon the opening of doors; thus, they go through the motions for twenty minutes to all of a handful of early attendees. We bump into singer Ivano shortly before Itch take the stage: he’s obviously unhappy with the way tonight has been handled, but better days await his promising band in 2006. Itch are an equally mouth-watering proposition: right now their awkward indie – shades of Spy Versus Spy and Braid doused in washes of violently vibrant colour, neither post-rock nor post-hardcore in composition – is captivating for a few songs before sound-alike shortcomings become apparent. If they could only loosen up a little, genuinely considered critical acclaim could be theirs, if they want it. Their songs are too taut tonight, too impenetrable for fans of melody, to warrant absolute praise; should they relax a little and let the music free to wander into wondrous realms of creativity, unbound by its current restrictions, then they’ll be on to something special indeed. The talent is obviously there; all they need to do is utilise it efficiently.

An act that’s already got the crowd on its side, long before this evening’s performance, is one-man electro-indie band Get Cape. Wear Cape. Fly. The man – Sam – qualifies each song before its airing; the effect on the faithful is electric, but to the reviewer wanting rock and not rhetoric such explanation equals an uncertainty with one’s material. The songs this evening are limp, neither straightforward enough to be attractive indie-pop nor employing sufficient beat power to propel them into experimental waters (Sam should really consider using a live drummer), and DiS is forced to take refuge downstairs. The non-existent DJ is playing The Mars Volta. We sip Coke and wait for the headliners to extinguish any memory of an over-hyped and overly emo flash in the pan.

Secondsmile close the evening with a bang: they’re a much-changed band from the five-piece that first attracted our attention, thanks in no small way to their trimming to a quartet, but their impassioned and creative rock, with subtle overtones of prog, keeps those that we expected to depart after Get Cape utterly transfixed. Even a couple of strays, no doubt simply here to expel the chill from their bones, dance jovially, beers in hand. Their set is short, their members thankful for the healthy Sunday night turnout. DiS heads home, money spent – on what, we don’t remember – and hand stamped. We don’t buy any weed.

Photo of Itch by Claire Llewellyn