This has been a long time coming. The last time The Long Winters took to a London stage as a band was way back in November of 2003, as support to Centro-matic. Nearly three and a half years and one album later – the entire lifespan of some bands – the Winters' charismatic frontman John Roderick looks almost surprised at the turnout tonight, and even more so at the ovation he gets just for announcing the name of his band. With a set compiled entirely using audience shout-outs, the Water Rats is prepared to party to the soundtrack of, as Roderick himself puts it, “nancy-boy indie-rock”.

But not exclusively so. Tonight's support comes courtesy of two harder-rocking acts. Openers Scanners show themselves to be both incredibly loud and startlingly quiet; at some points littered with soft boy-girl harmonies before suddenly becoming a raucous rock-out. The female lead vocal sounds a lot like Karen O in tone and texture, but despite Scanners' firm grip on dynamics and tight timekeeping, there's a lack of control vocally when it all kicks off. It's dark, desperate and brooding, but in need of some refinement tonight.

Fortune Drive, meanwhile, abandoned any refinement long ago in favour of some good old-fashioned rock. Frontman Bobby's voice initially gets lost amongst the balls-out riffs, but he makes up for it with some enthusiastic bounding. Standout track 'My Girlfriend's An Arsonist', disappointingly like Jet on record, is tonight as punky and punchy as nature intended, though new single 'Sparkle' remains worryingly dirgy. Aside from Bobby, the rest of the band are mostly static and don't really fill the stage as well, but the travelling hordes still chant their name as they depart from the stage, truly satisfied even if this isn't one of Fortune Drive's best shows.

The Long Winters, meanwhile, have no trouble at all filling the stage. John Roderick is not a small man, and the rest of the quartet are hemmed in behind their various pieces of equipment, although Roderick still finds room to hold his guitar skyward during each instrumental break. The Winters' style of indie-rock sits comfortably amongst the rest of the Barsuk family, similar in style to bands like Death Cab For Cutie and Harvey Danger but with more facial hair and a country twist. Accounts of failed love executed with aplomb, the up-tempo songs like '(It's A) Departure' bristle with a new distorted anger – although the normally-angsty 'Rich Wife' seems somehow slower and less punchy, sadly – whilst the low-key numbers are pegged back even further.

‘The Commander Thinks Aloud’ is a surprise highlight, with its often understated chorus taking on epic properties as the crowd joins in. There are other times where songs are changed, which normally comes down to Roderick irritatingly changing the timing of the vocal lines, occasionally leaving those singing along looking disconcerted. But whilst they might have chosen the songs, it’s he who remains unmistakeably the boss, even if his constantly-floppy flick of hair, an accidental collision with the drum kit during 'Cinnamon' and his frequent battles with his own mic stand (and an endless supply of witty quips) make him seem more like a comedy figure.

But that's the beauty of The Long Winters – they're both the joke-tellers and the punchline and, as practically the whole room behind me dances along to 'New Girl' and rumours of a song appearing on a Meg Ryan film in the future, perhaps becoming the hit they should have been years ago.