Edging your way to the bar, you can follow the gazes of an expectant crowd, over to the t-shirt stall. “Is that Meg White crouched over by the boxes of skinny fit tops? Can that really be Renee Zellweger canoodling with Jack White in the corner?” they ask themselves. The answer to both is no. The White Stripes are not here. Dolf De Datsun will not be buying a new t-shirt from this gig tonight.

You almost feel like the Soledad Brothers are a support act; here to open up for the treasure hunt that will ensure after their set, on the search for any member of the celebrity army that have name-checked this never-more-cool Detroit trio. The fact that they are going to play some songs is merely a bonus.

The early signs are good. The Soledad Brothers blast through a selection of short and sharp dirty blues rockers that leave subtly standing shivering at the door. At times they sound so much like The Rolling Stones in their early 1970s pomp that it’s a surprise to look over your shoulder and not see Keith Richards plugged directly into the mixing desk. But just as the crowd are beginning to shuffle their feet and bob their heads in general agreement, proceedings take something of a detour.

One of the guitarists (I don’t know his name – like many people here tonight, I’m here out of pure curiosity, but I think he’s Meg’s Soledad Brother) descends from the stage and disappears through a fire exit at the side of the room. Will he emerge? What will he emerge with? A monkey? Jack White? Jack White holding a monkey? No. He reappears with a saxophone – an instrument that will forever remain synonymous with Kenny G, perhaps the most uncool man ever to emerge from a woman’s womb. Thank the lord then that you can’t really hear it very well and the PA speakers are still thick with grubby slide guitar and bruising drum rolls.

And so it goes for some time. If the Soledad Brothers had left the horns at home and stuck to their six strings for a 30-minute blast of primitive rock and roll they would have left the stage heroes. However, by 10:50pm they put down their instruments to deserved applause, but also a faint whiff of lethargy. At least they have proven that, when they want to be, the Soledad Brothers are more than just a name to drop.