While the folksy, cardigan-wearing Collapse make hay not war with those members of the crowd willing to stop chatting for a few minutes, Semifinalists wait backstage, preparing to shatter the wholesome atmosphere with their gritty attack of post-pop-rock. Casio keyboards are used and abused, hair is tossed and tangled, and their drummer Chris sings angelically over some delicious slices of Mercury Rev-drenched new wave. Both beautiful and just a little severe, it’s no surprise V2 has shelled out for their forthcoming debut album.

David Swanson knows every variation of The Robot dance, and a bunch of other moves that titter in the face of injury. Who ever said white boys can’t dance would do well to check out Whirlwind Heat, who not only dance like crazy monkeys, but somehow inspire their indie white boy audience to follow suit. It’s weird; I always had the band pegged as a younger, cuter take on Brainiac. But tonight all this irresistible shimmying makes me wonder why I never thought more along the lines of Devo or even The Beasties.

Whether employing the old ‘shout it back’ trick on the goofily catchy ‘Uptight’ or regaling us with (sadly) imaginary trips to the sperm bank, the American trio never once forget they’re here first and foremost to entertain. So, even when they descend into a Moog-punk jamfest at the end of their set, they go to the trouble of dismantling and rebuilding the kit around them, just for our benefit. Cheers boys.