Dog Is DeadThe Bodega Social ClubTuesday 7th April

So the term ‘EP launch’ might have been a tad erroneously thrust upon us – considering all of their ‘new’ tracks are mere touch-ups of familiar favourites – and the night itself may struggle under the weight of its semi-manufactured promotional sheen, but what more could you expect from probably Nottingham’s most hyped-up act?

If anything, the air of slick professionalism even before Dog is Dead take to the stage just goes to reinforce their position as probably the most likely of local bands to break through to the big time. More than ably backed by Vaarlets (gloriously layered dream-indie on a par with The Whitest Boy Alive) and Boat to Row (Nuneaton’s answer to the Marling-Mumford freak-folk continuum), DiD steam through their trademark jazz-pop teetering on shout-along brilliance, while the new tracks they shoehorn in – ‘Hey Old Songbird’ and ‘Oh This Town’ - lose their set none of its sax disco momentum. Not your average college band, then...

Dog is Dead played:

• The Zoo
• Disco Lights
• Noah’s Ark
• Hey Old Songbird
• Small Talk
• Oh This Town
• Board Games
• Clockwork

www.myspace.com/dogisdeadband
www.myspace.com/vaarlets

Mint IveThe Bodega Social ClubSaturday 7th March

For a band whose appeal lies for the most part in their gritty everyman image, Mint Ive sure know how to toss some mystery into the equation when they see fit. The swelling anthemics of tonight's set, billowing through the smoke haze liberally employed throughout, have them summon up a raw yet ethereal atmosphere akin to Verve, or Doves at their most reverby. Compared with the earthy, organic roughness of impressive support Spies in Limbo, Mint Ive's polished yet emotive brand of shoegaze is a whole-room affair; the Bodega's sweaty upstairs, rammed by the time the Ive's imposingly hoodied frontman Will Lillejord takes to the stage like world-weary prizefighter to ring, heaves with the stamps and pogoes of a couple of hundred no-nonsense punters, and the howls of 'False Idols' and its 'I won't darken your doorstep' refrain echo over Lillejord's fist-raisingly empowering vocals. Though briefer a set than they now warrant, tonight has Mint Ive pull together a half-hour of thrilling, power-to-the-people post-rock, cementing them as a band massively overdue venues double the Bodega's size.

Mint Ive played:

• Murderous Intentions
• False Idols
• Fearing
• Painted Picture
• Aim Too High
• To No Avail

www.myspace.com/mintive

Future Sounds of NottinghamRescue RoomsFriday 20th February

For a city so underwhelming in the pop stakes and so often a hotbed for the slightly leftfield side of things, it's a pleasant surprise to have Rescue Rooms so full of excitable teenagers, and proof that there's more to be proud of in our fair city than Kirsty and Phil would have us believe. The assured Libertines indie of Trent FM competition winners The Turf won't be the first to break the mould, but its macho 'Leisure'-era Blur moments hint at an experimental punk bubbling under the Kooks-style polo-shirt and quiff surface, while the soulful indie-pop of The Vaarlets is a rainbow of Whitest Boy Alive/Magistrates simple-yet-effective tuneage, only let down when their more punk moments all too often lapse into the tired verse-chorus-verse formula of straightforward Undertones indie. Not that we can really complain, considering we can actually hear them; more than can be said for the muted affair that is Nina and Taylor, a combination of acoustic guitar and double bass backed with the more than proficient beatboxing of Motor Mouf. While their set's confident, it's often buried beneath an eerily underwhelming PA and the chatter of increasingly impatient local teens.

The energy they so clearly crave doesn't take long to materialise; the entrance of the now much-touted Dog is Dead ushers in a heady Hot Club de Paris-style combination of fidgety guitars and almost barbershop harmonics, rousing the afternoon's crowd and managing to overpower the intermittent feedback of the struggling sound system, and the familiar strains of 'Board Games' and 'Clockwork' prove highlights in an exciting set of jazz-indie that brings Rumble Strips and a more fiery Average White Band to mind. The afternoon's headliners Frontiers have little by the way of funk; theirs is a densely atmospheric rock that offers barely the opportunity for a dance, yet still gains the sweaty efforts of a few topless moshers. Opening with a brace of freshly written tracks, the now Radio 1 endorsed quartet rarely shift from the single gear indie that has fast become their trademark, yet the ditching of old favourites 'Familiar Faces' and 'Argument Fuelled By The Barman' has them settle into a wide-eyed collection of anthemics built around a Verve/Stone Roses template that'll likely see them return to crowds of a similar size in months to come.

A victory for Nottingham then, and a vision of the future for us. A successful scene isn't about one band making it, it's about the actions of those that surround that band, and all it takes is our collective motivation for us to rival anywhere we like. Now stop expecting Nottingham to do well without your input, because this city needs you...

Frontiers played:

• Repeat Offender
• New Eden
• If You Think You Know Me
• Frontiers
• Send the Night Away
• In Pursuit

www.myspace.com/frontiersofficial
www.myspace.com/dogisdeadband
www.myspace.com/vaarlets
www.myspace.com/theturfnotts

Luxury StrangerThe Running HorseThursday 19th February

Regardless of whether or not it is in fact their first gig - as they're at such pains to inform us - tonight's openers Goodbye Smile are enough at ease, even with the stripped-down acoustic/bongo setup they employ, to effect a pleasing, if not wholly thrilling, few tunes. At times lacking the joie de vivre of their obvious influences (perm any one from the myriad James Morrison/Paolo Nutini Topman-rock clique and you're not far wrong), their attempts at lyrical introspection boil down to a somewhat kack-handed attempt at poetry; where 'A Year Today's paeans to new-found love are well-meant, its assertions that 'not even a tumour could get you off my mind' are, sadly, more laughable than heart-warming, a feeling presumably shared by the rest of the Running Horse considering the somewhat muted response with which their self-conciously pained attempts at singalongs are met. While their cover of The Cure's 'Just Like Heaven' is perhaps a guaranteed winner considering tonight's constituent crowd, their own material - in particular frenetic closer 'Shipwreck' - is more than capable of good things, yet it's their unreliable performance that undoes their evident ability.

Filling in on the dance-indie continuum recently vacated by New Order are Shortwave Fade. Easing into their set with the criminally underappreciated 'Stay As You Are', it's left to bassist Robb Shephard's tubthumping rhythms to tear the Runner a new one, with next single 'Too Late to Tell' dragging us into an explosive widescreen pop, like Doves at a disco lock-in. On record infuriatingly tame, recent BBC-endorsed single 'Lost In A Hurricane' tonight has the the vigour of a synth-laden Morning Runner, a theme which continues throughout their set and into closer 'Now We Are Weapons', presumably one of the tracks left on The Sunshine Underground's cutting room floor for being too good. Flitting from disco-driven pop a la Charlatans to a sound reminiscent of a more aggressive REM and back again, Shortwave Fade eek out a set verging on mirrorball magnificence.

With REM in mind may we present the jury with Simon York, a glam frontman from a time before it became a dirty word and so gloriously made-up, it doesn't just make us jealous, but would likely turn Stipe himself green were it not for the moonheaded frontman's perma-paint. With an act that lends itself so much to the mascared likes of Messrs Gahan, Smith and Stipe, whether York and band Luxury Stranger could carve out their own sound is a doubt banished as they take to the stage and launch into 'Atmosphere' - a Fugazi meets My Bloody Valentine wig-out, via the nihilist anti-rock of early Manics. It's evident they're more than the sum of their influences; 'Elements' is a Spector-produced Public Image jam, while 'Paradise Untouched' and 'Dirt' both strut through an Interpol/Kasabian gangland and what 'Where You've Gone' lacks in the "fairy dust" York seeks, it more than makes up for in the windswept grandiosity of classic line-up Echo and the Bunnymen, before McCulloch went all Mark E Smith. What likely lasts 45 minutes passes in an instant and before we know it, York has removed his guitar and is off the stage; a suitably abrupt ending to a fine evening of tightly woven and impressive performances.

Luxury Stranger played:

• Atmosphere
• Elements
• Precious
• Paradise Untouched
• Grounded
• Where You've Gone
• Dirt
• Item
• Bleed
• On and On...

www.myspace.com/luxurystranger

www.myspace.com/shortwavefade

Late of the PierThe Royal, DerbyFriday 13th February

Granted it's off our usual patch, but considering this is the closest Nottingham's electro pioneers stop to our fine city on this stretch of their UK outings, it's a fine enough excuse to stump up for a round-trip to our erstwhile Midlands neighbours. It also gives us the chance to spend the night in possibly the nicest venue in which we've ever set foot, Victoria Street's stunning mock-Victorian 'Royal'. Chandeliered to the hilt, it's certainly a step up from some of the gritty dives we're used to (not that we're complaining about our standard venue...) yet whether it'll have the almost sterile nature of grand venues of its ilk - De Montfort, we're looking at you - remained to be seen as we unwrapped and settled in for the first of tonight's three acts.

Fatboy Slim collaborator, Liam Finn songwriter... is there any end to Connan 'Mockasin' Hosford's seemingly endless talents? Well, yes actually. See, while his mock-Japanese sea shanties and Deerhoof-plagiarising nonsense ditties might seem pleasantly refreshing enough, his seeming inability to pull together any sort of cohesive performance has him, come the end of his set, regress into stop-start wankery on his electric zither and incessant testosterone-defying squealling, like Clinic on a helium and sugar high. Beneath the ADHD haze of impatient kack-handed strumming, there is, rather irritatingly, much to enjoy; 'Egon Hosford' is the bastard child of The Crystals and Ennio Morricone, while 'Macheeky' descends from jazz-club 'Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots' to a static-heavy Liars. Ultimately, it's a far more exciting prospect on record than stage, something which resounds throughout Hosford's missed opportunity of a set.

The opener's muso half-hour is soon recovered, however, with the entrance of Mica Levi and backing band the Shapes. Micachu's fast become a reference point for London's E3 area and the grime-indie ('grindie', for the NME readers among us) crossover it's birthed, and her swift rise - marked by the recent delay of debut album 'Jewellery' after her Rough Trade signing - is tonight marked by a trademark set of genre-blurring hip-hop, electro and folk. '4 Eat Your Heart' elicits tonight's first singalong while past singles 'Curly Teeth' and 'Golden Phone' are rough and ready highlights. Her best aspect, the DIY percussion she enlists, is evident throughout; while Levi flits from ukelele to electric guitar and back, keyboardist Raisa Khan unceromoniously bashes wine bottles and cowbells as accompaniment to drummer Marc Pell's understated tribal polyrhythms. What it lacks in stand-outs, it more than makes up for in subtlety and Levi's parting words - "We'll see you soon" - will doubtless be prophetic, on a far wider scale, come the release of her debut next month.

Talking of debuts, Late of the Pier's 'Fantasy Black Channel' was, for us here at TC Towers at least, the pinnacle of 2008 music. A snotty-nosed, sprawling teen effort, it garnered widespread acclaim, five singles and hoardes of supporters the world over, while managing to be the only album all year us impatient sorts could actually listen to the whole way through, probably thanks to the fact that it condensed a fidgety genre-melding of almost Soulwax proportions into a half-hour of sweaty, emotional, wide-eyed fun. Live too, they've always managed to live up to their billing; you might remember November's cramped Sausage Party love-in at the Chameleon, and how, so destructive was their trademark apocalyptic techno-disco, it threatened to make the first-floor venue collapse. Tonight's no exception and from the thumping bass notes of opener 'Space and the Woods' and its arpeggiated live intro to the 'Great Gig on the Sky' vocal gymnastics of 'Bathroom Gurgle', it's a masterclass in fiery electro-punk. Beset by technical problems, especially during 'Random Firl' and 'Broken' - which, tonight at least, ought be renamed 'Broken Guitar' considering the efforts Sam Eastgate's hapless techie has to go to get his unresponsive axe going again - it's an ill-tempered atmosphere onstage, yet one which is channelled into the brutal likes of 'Focker' to tear the sticky dancefloor apart, further proof of their ever-developing maturity. Every track gets the welcome bands with triple their back catalogue would expect; 'VW', for one, has become the terrace chant of the nu-rave generation, while 'The Enemy Are The Future' collapses into a space-funk Can wig-out reminscent of first album LCD Soundsystem. In the end, it's dance/rock/punk/electro of the highest order and while they can get away with it, their genre-straddling magnificence is fine by us.

Late of the Pier played:

• Space and the Woods
• Heartbeat
• Random Firl
• Broken
• Whitesnake
• VW
• The Bears Are Coming
• The Enemy Are The Future
• Focker
• Bathroom Gurgle

www.myspace.com/lateofthepier
www.myspace.com/micayomusic
www.myspace.com/connanmockasin

The Amber HerdThe Golden FleeceThursday 5th February

It's definitely a pub gig night tonight; the promise of a cosy room and a chilled Guinness keeps us going through the ankle-high snow up Mansfield Road, and the Golden Fleece's genial atmosphere is, thankfully, the perfect antidote to the big freeze outside.

Resplendent with washes of Joni Mitchell-esque introspection - 'Lightbulbs', for one, is a modern take on Mitchell's 'California' - Flo Rowland's lean, almost rushed set belies the depth of a regular on the Worcester grunge circuit, while her giggling commentary's a welcome relief from the elusive stage shows of many a singer-songwriter. A steady opener to the evening then, and a sign of things to come.

You'll remember it's only a week since we last saw The Amber Herd - so effortlessly was their usual set transferred to the acoustic-only confines of the Loggerheads caves, their name was scrawled straight in the TC little black book and plans made to see their next gig as soon as it was confirmed. It's convenient (or fate, depending on how you look at it) then, that they're shoehorned into a Golden Fleece headline slot so soon afterwards, and as we settle down by the corner radiator, it's evident their Loggerheads set wasn't a mere flash in the pan; the technicolor early New Order on which they pride themselves gets a shot in the arm in these minimal settings, with tracks like mid-set highlight 'Bonfires' and soon to be re-recorded closer 'Stage Fright' stretching the venue's PA to its limit. It's a fine, polished performance, a half-hour of both blissfully melancholic indie and uplifting stripped-back folk and comes to a sprawling, open-mouthed finish with an almost Velvet Underground-esque wall of sound, acoustics flitting between prog keyboard stabs and all buried under Neil Beards's darkly overdriven Mary Chain guitar. Nottingham's best kept secret? We won't tell if you don't...

The Amber Herd played:

• Foot-Tapper
• Apple
• Thursday
• Bonfires
• Magnolia
• Catching Time
• Stage Fright

www.myspace.com/theamberherd
www.myspace.com/florowland

Wire and WoolThe LoggerheadsFriday 30th January

And... we're back. For the more attentive of you out there, you may have noticed the relatively hushed nature of the website for the past few weeks - unfortunately exams, illness and the typically quiet January gig calendar conspired against us meaning that, in what is now rapidly approaching February, we at TC Towers are finally able to offer you a belated Happy Christmas and New Years wishes. Resolutions still being kept on the back of a postage stamp to the usual address, if you will.

We return to you on the last Friday of the month and the very first of (hopefully) many Wire and Wool mini-festivals, in the cavernous surroundings of Cliff Road's Loggerheads Pub; we're not usually ones for wiling away bitter Friday evenings in inner-city caves, but with a bill as extensive and, perhaps more importantly, local as tonight's, it was a chance not to be missed.

On account of massively over-egging the time it'd take to get from one side of town to the other, your trusty scribe arrives at tonight's watering hole with two hours to spare. A goob job then, that erstwhile troubadour and tonight's opener Paul Walker is early himself, taking to the now comfortably patio-heated main cave almost half an hour before he's due. Interspersed with tales of Portuguese busking trips and Boys from the Black Stuff style hardships, it's a varied yet scintillating affair and Walker's inimitably husky delivery threatens to shake the rustic venue to its core. When he returns on the 14th, he'll doubtless be the much deserved centre of attention and you can bet we'll be down the front for the entirety.

Curtis Whitefinger's folk-blues formula strays little from that of the countless singer-songwriters like him, but his uniquely irrevent humour sets him in good stead for an entertaining half-hour. Backed only by bassist John Russell, Whitefinger's stripped-down setup does him favours, with his subtle witticisms and observations - the likes of which could so easily go unnoticed - coming to the fore in a Bilge Pump/Art Brut style poetic swagger. Meanwhile, back outdoors The Amber Herd take to the erm... cave for a slow-burning set of dense and atmospheric post-rock, at times hushed, at others fist-clenchingly anthemic. Far from the Fly-era U2 it evokes on record, 'Stage Fright' here becomes a scene of almost Nick Drake-esque storytelling, ditching the soulless drum machine for a pair of well-worn bongos, while the sprawling Smashing Pumpkins likes of 'Magnolia' and 'Bonfires' fill the sandy room.

The night, at least for us, ends with the brutal reverb of Apparatus of Sleep, whose arresting IDM/shoegaze fusion and reverb-heavy sound veers from a laptop-wielding My Bloody Valentine to a dub Fields, via Broken Social Scene and Glasvegas. Their set consists of them knocking seven shades out of the main room while somewhere precariously balancing saccharine acoustics on top, and concludes with singer Stoney launching oranges at his stood-up, overdriven guitar from the other end of the room. It's a fitting end to a varied and exciting evening, and we're already looking forward to this time next month.

http://www.wireandwool.com/

CensoredThe Rescue RoomsFriday 19th December

We here at This City aren't big fans of cover bands. More often than not, their crowd-pleasing mainstream pickings manage to replace any sense of artistic integrity and after not very long, you end up with a mish-mash of sub-Bjorn Again bollocks, aiming for the lowest common denominator and falling way short. Medleys are another thing. Hence, little surprise that we approached opening band King of Slugs with a distinct apprehension, considering their effortless apeing of the more chart-friendly end of Kings of Leon and, ahem, The Script by the conclusion of their first number. Their sluggish (no, shan't apologise) set struggles with faulty equipment, but it's only so much to blame for what is their own doing. Enter Stage Left their two saviours in Lippicool and Jaybe, combining a far tighter repertoire to end their acoustic backing band's malfunctioning misery and wrapping up the now four-piece's set in beatboxed style. What a relief...

Frontiers are fast becoming the buzz-band of the area, and what better way to celebrate their year anniversary than with their first gig at Nottingham's premier live venue. Their set's little out of the ordinary - drummer Jonny's pounding bass introduces them to the stage and Send the Night Away sets the tone for a half-hour of now de rigeur soaring indie-pop - but their new found stage confidence has remoulded the aggression with which they performed this time last year, making them a far more thrilling prospect. 'In Pursuit' and 'Familiar Faces' are old favourites by this point and the brutality with which EP centrepieces 'If You Think You Know Me' and 'On the Mend' are tossed aside suggests a band with far more impressive ideas up their sleeves.

Censored have a fresh swagger. Somewhere between the final Club SOS and here they've rethought, and tonight marks the return of a fuller, more aggressive band; an Arctic Monkeys v2.0 compared to the Britpop-lite of their earlier 'Dancefloor' days, if you will. They may stray little from their usual Kula Shaker/Shed Seven roots, but the fact that their pedals are, throughout, to the metal suggests some newly tapped energy and while ramshackle, older affairs like 'Lonesome Town' fail to get the SOS response of old, it's not for want of trying; with drummer Chris bounding about the stage, it's difficult to not warm to them regardless of a somewhat frosty crowd - doubtless down to the bitterness outside. Ultimately, it's high-fives all round for a tight set, with room for guitarist Matt's more psychedelic side to roam free, and while it's their last set before Christmas, it's certainly warmed this weathered journo's cockles.

Censored played:

• The Way It Is
• Lonesome Town
• I Can't Stand The Pain
• All You Gotta Do Is Ask
• What's Done Is Done
• When You Come Along
• 22 Days
• In the Presence of the Lord
• Nothin'

www.myspace.com/censoredville
www.myspace.com/frontiersofficial
www.myspace.com/kingofslugs

Captain DangerousRock CityFriday 12th December

A Petebox-less We Show Up On Radar is, sadly, not much of a draw. It has to be said that, without the local beatboxing MC, WSUOR's live show leaves a lot to be desired and a synthless, beatless Andy Wright - tonight alone and thoroughly impatient with a half-attentive basement crowd - can only manage a short, muted and ill-tempered support set. It's a shame, because when the shaggy haired Oberst-alike actually manages to cut through the haze of chatter with which he's faced, tracks like 'Animal Sports Day' and 'The Little Things I've Lost' retain their Seawolf-esque dreaminess in spite of the band's depleted line-up. Tonight, Wright struggles and it's a missed opportunity for an otherwise solid amiable singer-songwriter.

With an impromptu 'ahem' into the microphone, the Beeb's Dean Jackson introduces tonight's headliners to the stage and Captain Dangerous launch into the kitchen-sink aplomb of album opener 'The Terrorist'. For the hardened fans (of which there seem many) it's a set of few surprises, yet five years of consistent gigging has made them tighter than ever and with guests entering and exiting throughout, they're a formidable bunch - at times, there're anything up to seven people onstage. Despite this they continue to hold their own even without the bells and whistles. Their set's a ragtag selection of folk, ska and reggae but tracks like the skanking 'Terry Steele' and the hushed acoustics of 'Merrow Song' play off each other perfectly and with such a varied palette, their album 'The House That Jack Hayter Built' - out next March - looks an exciting prospect.

Captain Dangerous played:

• The Terrorist
• She Still Loves You
• A Little Bit Of Home
• I Miss You Cos It's Monday
• I Admit Defeat
• Shoot Deserters
• The Ballad Of Phillip
• Terry Steele
• Merrow Song
• Boozehounds
• Other Man
• Kill That Greek
  
  www.myspace.com/captaindangerous
  www.myspace.com/wsuor

Sausage Party presents... Late of the PierThe ChameleonSunday 31st November

It's been said time and time again that Late of the Pier used to picket Liars Club supremo Ricky Haley to be the clubnight's house band, and with a top 30 album and a self-curated lap of honour UK tour in the bag, what better time than now to see the band and everybody's favourite promoter launch their very own night together? Sausage Party #1 has Nottingham's finest exports heading the night, with support from recent Erol Alkan signings Fan Death and DJ sets from Riotous Rockers and Haley himself amongst others. Tonight's gig almost promoted itself - spread by word of mouth alone, tickets were snapped up within a few hours of going onsale and by the time Fan Death take to the living room-cosiness of The Chameleon, the second-floor venue leaves little room for manoeuvre. Vancouver's shimmering disco-artistes recall the most fluid of 70s and 80s disco, like ESG on downers or a pair of Little Boots and while Hoxditch's incessant thirst for vapid electro-disco fires blanks more often than not (erm that's you, Robots in Disguise), Fan Death are one effortlessly genre-bending pair the trendies should leave us to enjoy; the pouting, giggling brevity of the set, cut short by equipment problems, is teenage Goldfrapp, with singer Dandi taking furous swipes at all manner of percussion like a blindfolded march through a toy shop.

The Chameleon's a ramshackle place at best and when, midway through LotP's set, reports are relayed to the front of falling plaster from the ceiling of the downstairs bar, drastic act has to be taken; cue Sam Potter, wide-eyed synth-wielder extraordinaire who instantly, in song form, commands "Please don't dance... you'll DIE if you dance!"- advice immediately negated by the speaker-scaling antics of singer Sam Eastgate as they launch into frantic album highlight 'Whitesnake'. By this point, none of us would be surprised if the floor did collapse after all; the band have already nonchalantly tossed their biggest singles, in 'Space and the Woods' and 'Heartbeat', out with all the furious indifference of an electro Bad Brains, heavy on material but short on time. Sweat runs down the walls and fuses blow, while the one-man security presence hurriedly assembled by the front speaker stacks is almost trampled as Potter's well-meant instructions go unabided. For the briefest of moments, crowd and band become one and the surging ADHD-rumba of 'Focker' begins to make sense. And then, as quickly as we began to gain a handle on the oddest yet most exciting band we've ever been able to call our own, a handful of cocktail sausages fly toward drummer Ross and we're back to square one. Always different, but always the same. God bless Late of the Pier.

Late of the Pier played:

• Space and the Woods
• Heartbeat
• Random Firl
• Broken
• Whitesnake
• VW
• The Bears Are Coming
• Mad Dogs and Englishmen
• Focker
• Bathroom Gurgle

www.myspace.com/lateofthepier

www.myspace.com/fandeath

The Hellset OrchestraThe Rescue RoomsSaturday 29th December

Album launchs tend to get a bit of a bad rap; all too often, the image springs to mind of industry types quaffing champers and canapes and paper-cutting unsuspecting support bands with business cards. The welcome return of Nottingham's goth-glam sextet sees The Rescue Rooms at bursting point with support from shoegaze experimentalists Swimming lending the night a
technicolor edge, thankfully free of ponytailed A and R men in pinstripe suits and bluetooth headsets. With a set that flits from dreamy psychedelia to Verve-esque baggy and back again, Swimming certainly make up for the bitterly frosty conditions outside and baptise us in a half-hour of tunes warmer than a bath of mulled wine.

Tonight's headliners aren't ones for muted introvertedness; their second LP, of which tonight is the official launch, is a masterclass in flares-wearing gypsy-goth, the likes of which don't easily translate to a late-November Rescue Rooms gathering. Carnival in a forest perhaps, but not NG1 on a grim Saturday evening. So it's with a hasty aplomb that Hellset launch into stop-start album opener 'Whores and Vipers...' which could easily soundtrack the clicking of seatbelts aboard wooden-cart rollercoasters the land over. With Hellset playing the album in full, it could've been easy to get lost; a set's worth (bar closer 'Orpheus...') of tracks drawn from an as yet unreleased CD could well be akin to a torchless night-hike, but the flag-waving Queen histrionics of 'Miss July '89' and the thrash-disco of '22055' - featuring vocalist Michael's impromptu Hutchence-esque hip shakes - are so effortlessly captivating, it's impossible not to adore every second. With just the one live date confirmed as we write (well, type) it's difficult not to imagine a mammoth tour of all the operahouses and derilect theatres the country has to offer being on the cards. At the very least, a headline set aboard the waltzers at Goose Fair '09 sounds ideal.

The Hellset Orchestra played:

• Whores and Vipers Ride The Welcome Wagon
• Welcome to the Sorcery Clan
• Bakare's Secret Space Station
• 1970s Projection of the Future
• The Carrousel Awaits
• Weak Are These Hands
• Ferocious Ass
• Miss July '89
• Monstro Says 'Sound The Horn'
• 22055
• Wind Her
• Orpheus' Incredulous Eyepop

www.myspace.com/hellsetorchestra
www.myspace.com/swimmingband

Cold Light of DayThe Johnson ArmsThursday 6th November

They only got here a month since and, presumably in some unified subversion of your Gatecrashers and your Oceanas, the students have already infiltrated the usually serene Johnson Arms. Then again, the bands didn't help much either - slinking onstage, Retford's two man (well, a man and a woman) folk-blues outfit The Listeners proceed to dish out more destruction to the quiet indie pub atmosphere than a week's worth of tipsy Freshers could ever muster. At their loudest, guitarist Robert's knife-edge guitar lines and singer Emma's sultry musings combine to create a thrilling prospect, the chalk-and-cheese likes to which, if it weren't for these, you'd likely only lay witness should Howling Bells bring Nico back from the grave for an autumn night's campfire singalong, while their hushed mid-set tracks recall "Ocean of Noise" Arcade Fire. Stirring stuff, then.

You couldn't easily pin down Apples For Faces if you tried; a (temporarily) drummer-less pair, the two of them create a sunkissed sound that seems slighly out of place throughout, yet is varied enough to stay interesting - vocalist Tom's bruised lyrics flit from drug addiction to nasty break-ups, all the while bathed in Creole-style mandolins and intermittent theremin that leaves them owing a significant debt to Bright Eyes and Vampire Weekend, a not-too unfamiliar formula these days. It's for this very reason that their set becomes somewhat undone partway through; Apples for Faces wear their influences so confidently on their sleeves that every track seems to resemble a mish-mash of something you've heard before, which leads them, ultimately, to a premature impasse. It'll be interesting to see where they go next from here.

Packed out on word-of-mouth alone, The Johnson Arms is almost a who's who of the local scene - The Kull frontman Andrew Shipley, as well as Reverend Martin 'Car Bootleg' Nesbitt are in presence to name just a few. It's their constant bubbling under the surface that's meant Cold Light of Day have such a riveting live show - their underground status belies subdued guitar lines and pounding pianos that could fill a venue twice the size, and lose little from it. Fresh from the success of latest project Spiritualized's comeback success with Songs in A + E, Richard Warren cuts a dauntingly confident figure onstage, with Huw Costin's thumping bass rhythms effortlessly buoying the pair in their slower numbers. Their set's a busy one, veering from the wall-to-wall Cave-esque ferocity of 'Come Down Here' to the rose-tinted Americana of 'Texan Girls' and much in between, and relishing the intimacy of the gig, the pair of them leave wide-mouthed and, fingers crossed, likely to get something committed to tape in the near future.

Cold Light of Day played:

• Nothing Really Matters Anymore
• Pink Skin
• Sunshine Gone
• Come Down Here
• Lost
• God Bless the Devil In Me
• The Loneliest Road
• Texan Girls
• Black Stone Empires

http://www.myspace.com/apples4faces
http://www.myspace.com/thelisteners

Frontiers EP launchThe Running HorseThursday 30th October

Sometimes NCT buses do you massive favours. As This City misses an improbably early 6.52 and is left stranded waiting for the no-show that is the 7.22, we get the feeling they could be trying to tell us something. As it is, a hatless, gloveless, scarfless hour in the near Baltic conditions (I jest not) of Netherfield High Street are no match for the sub-Bowling for Soup dirge that is Ethan James and the Soggy Biscuits, and so our unreserved thanks go to Nottingham's typically inept, yet practically Nostradamical, bus company for what must have been foresight of almost epic proportions.

Cosmonaut take to the stage and, much to the room's collective relief, they're a vast improvement. Sure, the laddish Britpop-revival may be a path well-trodden, but Cosmonaut do it nicely, with a well-placed swagger and enough tunes to maintain interest for their short set. Their brand of Ocean Colour Scene-esque rock psychedelia may, at times, tip its hat too often to obvious influences but it's a formula that's difficult to argue with, and is perfectly at home in a setting like the Runner.

Main support for the night comes courtesy of Dirty Hands, yet in what way they're meant to support tonight's headliners remains to be seen - the jury's still out on whether curiously be-fringed lead singer Sam was drunk, high or, for half-an-hour at least, a sufferer of some sort of cruel motor neurone damage, and while their aggressive stageshow isn't for want of enthusiasm, it does take a little getting used to. Struggling with a PA that would test even the best of bands, their usual fiery punk-funk is somewhat subdued and their set goes by almost unnoticed, drowned out by an increasingly impatient crowd.

Off the back of their latest EP gaining region-wide airplay courtesy of The Beeb's Dean Jackson, it's no surprise the Runner's near bursting point by the time local trailblazers Frontiers begin their set. Opener 'Send the Night Away' sets the tone for the majority of their set, with their sophomore effort highlighting a growth and maturity that recalls the mixed-bag of influences (think a spontaneous Jackson Browne/JJ72/Delays barfly collaboration) that earlier eluded them in the studio. Having a handful of new tunes to play with means that, where their earlier gigs were brief, ramshackle affairs, their set is now more cohesive and developed than ever before, with the newer likes of 'If You Think...' and 'On the Mend' perfectly complementing the more upbeat highlights of 'Frontiers' and 'Argument...'. Closing with live staple and fan favourite 'Familiar Faces' only to briefly return for a cover of The Kinks' 'You Really Got Me', Frontiers leave with another couple of dozen fans, safe in the knowledge of another successful night.

Frontiers played:

• Send the Night Away
• Frontiers
• If You Think You Know Me
• Argument Fuelled by the Barman
• Shadowplay
• On the Mend
• In Pursuit
• Familiar Faces
• You Really Got Me

www.myspace.com/frontiersofficial

Swound! album launchThe Bodega Social ClubSunday 19th October

As your trusty scribe climbs the Bodega’s stairs and steps into the main room, the handful of punters hardy enough to show up so early are stood resolutely against its four walls. Peering around the corner and onto the stage, it’s evident why - three grown men in a variety of costumes ranging from Batman to Father Christmas are pacing the stage whilst frantically issuing an aggressive, if well-intended, paean to the joys of Matlock, and its train-related attractions. Crowds are rarely petrified and intrigued in such equal measures, so kudos to Arse Full of Chips for providing us with such an inadvertantly provocative beginning to proceedings, if little else.

By the time Bipolar Bear take to the stage AFOC’s effect is noticeable, to the extent that bassist David has to coax the latecomers to fill in the gaps in front of them. That done, the band launch into opener and calling-card ‘Default’, which veers from the melodic harmonies of Mumm-Ra and Ghosts to the ferocity of Biffy Clyro, and sets the tone for their brief, if busy, set. Ostensibly an average four-pierce, Bipolar Bear achieve more with their setup than many could with double it and the recent addition of ex-Sanzen multi-instrumentalist Rob Upton on drums sees the often cavernous venue filled to the rafters with a soaring intensity.

While on record the brothers Staszkiewicz channel the Test-Icicles/Shitdisco movement of 2006, Swound! are an entirely different prospect on stage. Before playtime commences, party poppers are circulated through the crowd and the band enter to a cacaphony of screams and wolfwhistles, launching straight into the aural assault of visceral mid-album scorcher ‘Bust a Move’. Dealing only in snarling knee-jerk punk-funk, their 10 song set passes in little over half an hour, with many a spoken interlude and more than one plug of their debut LP which, as the band point out, is available from a small stall at the rear-end of the hall from none other than their long-suffering Mum. Vaguely incestual it may be, but as ‘Lost In Space’ signals the rapid approach of Sunday night’s strict 10pm curfew, it’s evidently a recipe for success.

Swound played:

• Bust a Move
• Creeping
• New Song
• Disco Siberia
• Shut Your Mouth
• Here Come the Robots!
• Living in a Box
• The Christmas Song
• What's Your Poison?
• Lost in Space

www.myspace.com/swound
www.myspace.com/bipolarbearuk
www.myspace.com/arsefullofchips