This time last year, the words "My" and "Space" would have meant nothing more than "clear off you nosey git". Now though, its acceleration to the forefront of A&R laziness means that any Tom, Dick and Orson can get a six figure deal without really trying.

Thankfully, there are exceptions to the rule, such as Peterborough quartet Dirty Little Faces, whose in-your-face, bullshit-free straight talking makes them an unnerving yet captivating experience. Singer Liam Batkin looks for all the world like Gruff Rhys Super Furry's elder bouncer brother. No arguments, no messing, just a fistful of tunes such as the bouncing ska laden 'Spray On Jeans' and clarion call to clergymen that is 'Take Your Collar Off'. The reference points are as reverent and simplistic as you'd expect - The Coral, The Specials, The Jam - and yet each song in their 25 minute set stands out like a dozen sore thumbs in a sextuplet wrestling bout. If a new horizon for Britpop is awaiting just around the corner, then Dirty Little Faces will surely be driving a 56 seater double decker straight through its heart. You have been warned...

...which makes life that little bit harder for The Motorettes.

As the former's internet fanbase disperse into the night, whether it be to join the 24 hour binge drinking set or queue with their mates for Oasis tickets at the Ice Stadium, a venue that was half an hour ago jam-packed now contains more holes than a piercing fetishist's face.

It's a crying shame because The Motorettes' fun packed punk pop - check out forthcoming single 'Go Go Gadget Girl' - is a joy to behold and deserves better than the dozen or so remaining punters. Indeed, if the remaining members of the Ramones got together with Idlewild, this is what the result would probably sound like. And yet so many stragglers missed it in the name of one last, lousy pint. Losers.