Time is running out and there’s a mighty problem brewing: the majority of tonight’s crowd is loitering about the venue’s cramped but comfortable bar, yet the bands – fifty per cent of Swedish headliners Caterpillar Ghost (pictured) aside – are conspicuous by their alarming absence. What’s more, certain factions of the evening’s entertainment have with them the necessary amplifiers and instruments. So far, so much for smooth proceedings: the promoter isn’t quite tearing his hair out but his brow is mightily furrowed.

Salvation appears in the form of Yorkshire’s Itch, whose appearance at the front door only just precedes that of One Toy Soldier on stage downstairs. The Northampton four-piece, whose label of choice Bravestar is hardly renowned for its left-of-centre leanings, carve out an already well-trodden path of emotive indie rock, albeit of the variety only likely to tug at the heartstrings of the young. There’s nothing bad about them, per se, but equally there’s nothing particularly noteworthy about their performance – guitars switch from quiet to loud to louder, the trio of vocalists (girl bassist: check) exchange lines with an accomplished fluidity, and trousers are low-slung and adorned by studded leather belts. They’re a two-a-penny rock band, not terrible but far from recommendable, unlikely to ever attain a level of success beyond this: first on at a pub. Most memorable aspect: the singer’s shocking red hair.

Itch, too, have a memorable front man, but for entirely different reasons: Michael Milner must weigh all of nine stone, such is his skinny frame and Judderman-like sinewy limbs, but he possesses a voice that could sever deep-sea cables from the choppy surface water. A whisper all-too-easily breaks into a truly blood-curdling scream with some regularity, but Itch are no post-whatever-cum-screamo outfit, however loud their singer can bellow. Theirs is music touched by the wonderful wand of Kinsella projects past and present and haunted by the spirit of Spy Versus Spy – choppy, unpredictable, savage and satisfying. Their sole fault is that they try too hard to disorientate lovers of standard compositional rock music, and thus attentions about the basement venue do wander. If they can rein in their askew tangents just a little, Itch will become a British band worthy of the same acclaim that forever followed their aforementioned touchstones.

Such a lesson in irregularity leaves Caterpillar Ghost’s post-rock leanings cruelly exposed as over-simplistic – a standout effort aside, ‘La Forza Maggiore’, the Swedes never impose themselves on the audience. The quartet’s rehearsal time is limited, granted – one of them swapped the chill of Sweden for the tulips of The Netherlands some time ago – but their uncomplicated output to date should sound better than this. Perhaps we can look to fatigue, too – the band only arrived a few hours prior to their performance – but Caterpillar Ghost fail to enchant in the way that their debut UK EP, My Beautiful Revolution, managed upon its release in the Spring. They, like their openers, are accomplished within their field for sure, but tonight’s show leaves little imprint on the casual attendee’s memory let alone the expectation-laden reviewer.

Proceedings are wrapped up well before last orders, the lateness of doors not affecting the running time significantly. One is almost grateful, though, for the timekeeping: much more mediocrity of a single evening would have had us in the Land of Nod long before curtain down.