Bearded, burly and given to wearing truckers' caps, Grandaddy look like the sort of men you see hanging around the forecourts of rural American garages, glaring at strangers. Their breakthrough came with 2000's The Sophtware Slump, an ecologically-concerned concept album that admonished the inexorable progress of technology via songs in which sad robots committed suicide and forests were depicted strewn with discarded domestic appliances.

On paper, it looks like a Radiohead-ish mope-a-thon, but The Sophftware Slump had deft melodies and witty touches. It brought the Californian quintet fans here. Admittedly, it's a certain kind of fan. Singer Jason Lytle once noted that if he had three wishes, they would be for "fresh air, contentment and more chicks at our shows". Perhaps he should have a word with his band about the benefits of the electric razor. Yet the Astoria is sold out.

While beautifully done and packed with good songs, Grandaddy's new album, Sumday, does not represent a massive advance. For a former pro-skateboarder, Lytle doesn't move about much onstage, marooned as he is behind a bank of keyboards. Nor do his fellow band members. Once you've got over the disparity between their gruff appearance and the sound they make - Lytle's voice is a high, plaintive and lovely thing - and have examined the accompanying nature films and noted that one song requires Jim Fairchild to play two guitars at once, there's not much to look at. A roadie who comes onstage and adjusts Lytle's mic gets a cheer.

Still, you can't argue with the music. As they launch into The Crystal Lake, Grandaddy sound great: guitars and sythesizers throbbing, Lytle keening away over the top. But the feeling that you might as well be at home, listening to the albums and watching the Discovery Channel with the sound down, is hard to shake.