The venue may have all the atmosphere of a jumble sale in it's last half hour but Plastik come on cheering to the crowd as if it were Wembley. It's straight into the music, strong rhythms, edgy guitars, and a chopped up glam indieboy vocal. The frontman has the moves too, looking like Matt Bellamy possessed by Brett Anderson. Musically it's an expert cross of the aforementioned frontmen's bands - the first five sounding like Coming Up material without any of the long boring tracks. We don't appear to be on speaking terms with the crowd though, interaction going as far as chatting the song titles into the mic just throwaway enough so that you can't understand a word said. So long as they break the shackles of their obvious influeces (and kick their soundman) this three piece could be well on the way to a top 40 near you soon.

Special message to headliners, Rapeseed, before I sign off. Achingly American Kurt wannabe vocals laboriously strung over dodgy metal "with a click track so it's, like, modern maaaan" should be consigned to history before it kills someone through brain death.