In the first of tonight's literally several "Jesus fucking Christ, wow!" moments, Ghost appear onstage provoking an instant inward scream of "The lead instruments are a hurdy-gurdy and a theremin! Jesus fucking Christ, wow!" but it's not long before such conventional instruments as the flute and electric guitar move in to replace them. Ghost are a psychedelic band and if they occasionally teeter on the brink of Jethro Tull and Pink Floyd, that's only because they're just about to balance it out with a moment of such sublime Incredible Strings Band style beauty and weirdness that you want to fall weeping to the floor. Did you know that pretentious is the new black? Or is that the new Strokes. I can't remember. Anyway, it was good.

NSX are pretentious as well, but they're pretentious in that wooly hat wearing, shop-at-ikea kind of way that gets smug, self-satisfied looking foreigners with smug, self-satisfied goatees dancing in a smug, self-satisfied way. A bit of dance, a bit of neo-acoustic, a bit of "world music" (bring me a sick bag) and a bit of jazz (blech!) Hey! Any MC5 fans in here? Someone let some Jams in, can you come and kick them out, please?

Of course, if there's any Jam-kicking to be done then Melt-Banana are surely first in the queue to be dishing it out. Lilliputian bassist Rika is magical as she jackhammers the hell out of the rhythm section and Yasuko's semi-coherent screams and yelps synchronise with Agata's guitar with a weirdly mathematical kind of beauty. That for all this it manages to remain powerful and accessible pop music is nothing short of a miracle. The crowd go for it the way mosquitos go for my arms and legs, there's a lot of bouncing, plenty of crowd surfing and a bit of stagediving.

Are those Jams kicked enough yet? Okay, well I guess you can let them back in then. DMBQ are as ridiculous and excessive as they are loud and exciting. Within five minutes, the guitarist is playing his guitar with his teeth, another ten minutes and he's still playing the same song, but now he's on the floor somewhere. Another thirty minutes and they may be playing a different song now but I can't be sure, then Jesus fucking Christ, wow! He's actually playing his fucking guitar with his fucking testicles! Actually playing it! How does he do that? Not wanting to be outdone, the singer is screaming through a gas mask, his eyes rolled into the back of his head, being carried aloft by the audience. He dismantles the drum kit and the audience helpfully pile it all up in the middle of the dancefloor. A quick run-up and a flying kick scatters the pieces to the four winds. Cheers. That was interesting. Did I say "wow!" yet? -Ian Martin, Sep.04.04