Something’s happened since DiS last saw them. Cripes! Frontman Jim has been developing his “look at me, I’m a rock star” stare, but then he goes and smiles and reminds you he’s not Bono – he’s in a London rock band who just don’t have any room to move onstage. Rhesus will not change lives or sell a million T-shirts. Rhesus, however, make music for other people, and if Rhesus like it, it’s a bonus.

What they give you is this: a wholly righteous mishmash 'Generation X' sloganeering, with cracked sleaze-core punk melodies and fuzzy guitar creeping through, and it’s either trying to sound melancholic or pissed off or, I dunno, both. Either way, and despite the lack of An Obvious Hit Single, it rocks. Their forthcoming album will certainly not share the same middle America coffee tables as Maroon 5. Undoubtedly a Good Thing on the artistic front, less so on the commercial one.

They are A GOOD BAND. There’s no doubting they live, breathe and eat music. There must be hundreds (thousands?) like them ploughing through these cramped, dingy, crappy basement venues, fighting dodgy sound systems and with barely room to elbow to the bar. UNLIKE the majority of those local bands for local people, Rhesus are also AN ENJOYABLE BAND whose love of playing rubs off on the crowd. But when the set is over with poignant urgency, it’s time to go back home to listen to other modern punkers like the Icarus Line or The Von Bondies or (Jim’s heroes) Mclusky, and realise there’s still some way to go.