Tonight kicks off with The Loose Shoes who are apparently “soulful country - a soundtrack to the sunset”. I am sorry to say that the sunset is found somewhere near Dawson’s Crack. Y’know the deal: softly spoken lady swooning down the mic with more people in the background playing lush drawls of alt-country swagger, wearing cowboy hats and the such. I’d buy it for my mum in a glance of a tobacco-riddled spitball. Slightly yaaaaaawn if you ask me but if you like that kinda thing…

The mighty S.Rock Levinson arrived to inject some self-professed “heavy metal” into the hitherto far-from-tart proceedings. They’re such liars. They pile through wonderfully energetic rock tunes with hooks and cavities alike. Plundering basslines with carefully orchestrated twin guitar madness and the frontman to end all frontwomen - googly eyed and stark raving stonkers. Rippin’ up your front garden like nobody else would, with a mic stand that won’t stay still cos he just keeps fiddling.

The Pixies Handbook got bought up and eaten by a some pilled up hippies on Tuesday. S.Rock found it after it was shat out and sprayed with razorblades. Then they licked it. This is not only the hit of the whole fruit. It’s the entire fucking market.

You’d think that I’d have been all discoed out by 10pm but there’s always space for I Own Kings. This is their party but the question is whether they’re prepared to rock this muthafuckin’ boat or not. Damn straight they are. The boat’s been rockin’ down the river for 2 hours now - indeed, slightly giddy at times - but now this party is jumpin’. You got the uncompromised riffs and the dirty poseurs hanging off their monitors. You got the soaring tunes and the wide-eyed stares to match. You got the power tunes snaking through the homemade gimpsuit and the duck taped netted shirt. They stole U2’s song book and gave it to Gary Glitter to take photos of. You have to look. And you will enjoy it.

I don’t think you can ever truly understand what you haven’t seen and you haven’t seen this kind of cool. I promise you that. This is not the kind of cool that costs £35 to cut its hair. This is pop music after it’s had a couple of ribs removed so it can fuck itself in the mouth every third hour.

What’s going on party people? It’s been a year since I was introduced to this couple of rock monsters and they’re still not signed. I wondered what was wrong then and I’m still left wondering. Sort it out.