Especially since Valerie, in the final reckoning, are horrendous. In their good moments, they’re a female Fall; guitar riffs clanking hopelessly around a fearlessly belaboured drum kit, whilst singer Jo Lean belts out lyrics about pop culture and the never-to-die dream of the underground. They slag off Kathleen Hanna, because she wouldn’t let them support Le Tigre. Their drummer, Elvis, stalks to the front of the stage, carting the snare with her, smacks it about for a bit, then throws it over her head. Then stalks off. The guitarist smiles. I smiled at first, but then just got bored.

Electrelane are a band with a leader, Verity Susman. Unlike Valerie, they are musical. Valerie are about shouting out love and that’s it. It doesn’t matter to them that they can’t play. Electrelane’s sound, on the other hand, depends upon them being good players and some of their locked grooves are among the best I’ve heard live, although you’d get a similar thrill from Saloon. Let’s not mention Stereolab, the godparents. Some of the Electrelane rockouts, whether Steve Albini-inspired or not, do indeed fucking rock. When they hunch together in a tight knot, focused in on their drummer, Emma Gaze, they’re arguably at their best. However, when Susman pulls out a saxophone, you realise just how different she is from the rest of her band. She sings good melody too and it’s a surprise to a newcomer such as me to discover that the previous Electrelane output has been wholly instrumental.

They aren’t always good; they have an unhealthy tendency towards needlessly drawn out, say-nothing splurges with keys meandering in the foreground. When focused and sharp, however, the sound is stunning. I’m looking forward to the new Albini-helmed LP The Power Out. Presuming he encouraged them to cut the crap, it should be well worth repeated spins.