Take Sennen, for example. Fresh from the tranquil confines of East Anglia, admittedly the more refined city life of Norwich as opposed to Great Yarmouth's derelict tower blocks by the sea, their off-the-cuff bursts of glistening tremelo action ('Widows') and almost radiant Gardiner/Bell-like harmonies ('Laid Out') are a joy to behold on such a blustery, windswept evening. At times their six-song set resembles a historical slant, such as the point - THAT point - where My Bloody Valentine turn into Godspeed You! Black Emperor and, before you know it, rock actually becomes progressive. And no one, I repeat, NO ONE, stares at their shoes.

Next up are local five piece Bosco, a band who can sound like Stevie Wonder, the Stone Roses ('Second Coming'-era, granted) and the Black Crowes during the same song. Certainly their frontman, the diminutive Liam (surnames not permitted this evening), has a larynx full of soul that far outweighs his bandmates' almost workmanlike jams that accompany him. A voice like that should never be ignored so, someone, anyone, put down the Squire/Robinson guild of chord changes now and give the man some tunes!

Or, better still, watch and learn from the next band how to combine ambience and attitude without bunking off to the muso mausoleum.

Lyca Sleep are among the rarest of breeds - certainly the aforementioned Valentines, Verve, and more recently Dead Meadow and TV On The Radio can also be cited - whose sheer intensity can reduce grownmen to shivering wrecks before delivering the most glowering tonic as a crushing finale. And that's just the opening 'Hope 69', a bawling crescendo of swirling guitar fx and crushing basslines that is part Barrett-era Pink Floyd circa the UFO club '68 and part Slint, the 'Spiderland' years.

In a week when The Music welcomed all and sundry to the north, Lyca Sleep are like the gatekeepers to a sanctuary of northern lites both past and present. The spectres of McCabe and Jones rise heavily through the dynamic interludes on 'Into The Sea', while 'Falling On Cedars' offers an insight into what 'Hail To The Thief' may have sounded like if its creators had been born west of the M62 rather than east of the M40.

The real highlight though comes in the form of vocalist Dan (as I've said, surnames are so passe), who ranges from the most peaceful Ashcroft-esque lullaby on 'Sold Me A Ride' to an amalgam of Jeff Buckley and Big Bob Plant on the epic set closer 'Inches Of Air'.

Certainly on this evidence, the sky isn't necessarily the limit for Lyca Sleep. The onus is on them as to just how much further they want to go.

Photo: (c) Jamie McCartney