If they were to be judged purely by the breadth of their musical ambition, the Bees would command the highest plaudits. These Isle of Man-based experimentalists flit between jazz, funk, reggae and samba with a contempt for the constraints of genre.

Taking the stage at midnight, they show they know how to put their anti-formula to effective use. By the time they launch into the looping basslines of Angryman three songs in, the six-piece band have transformed an initially indifferent audience into a whooping crowd.

That's the Bees at their best, but tonight's performance is not always so inspiring. Core members Paul Butler and Aaron Fletcher often let their greatest asset become a liability: they end up lacking focus through their refusal to be shackled by any one pop idiom.

Just as the cocktail-bar sleaze of Punchbag sounds fresh and exhilarating for its unexpected stylings, so the laboured cod reggae of No Trophy gives the impression of an act trying a bit too hard to demonstrate their open-mindedness. And the occasional foray into free-form instrumental heroics tests the listeners' patience.

Despite all this, the group are impressive. With a trumpeter and a saxophonist giving the Bees a meaty, spacious sound, it is hard not to be taken in by their sheer sonic power. And however much they teeter on the brink of self-indulgence, Butler and Fletcher are reined in by an infectious melodic sensibility.

The Bees could do with a touch of discipline to lend direction to their wanderings. Perhaps their growing audience will let them know where the balance lies.