Lostprophets, a pop metal band from Wales, are not deemed cool or voguish. They are that rare phenomenon: a band whose considerable success flies below the radar of fashion.

The band come on to a terrace chant of "Prophets, Prophets" and, bathed in a flash of blinding light from the stage, the crowd all raise their hands to offer the two-fingered metal salute. You might expect the kind of campery that the Darkness do so well, but Lostprophets peddle a more transatlantic sound, a cousin to the angsty chug of Staind or even early Pearl Jam.

The drummer appears to be punishing his kit rather than playing it, and songs careen frantically through bouts of pneumatic riffage to frenzied finales. But it is clear from singer Ian Watkins's cry of "Let's see you jumping!" that Lostprophets aren't so precious about their art as to be blind to the joys of unreconstructed rock. (For a man who cracked his ribs the previous night, Watkins is in remarkable form.)

More than anything, the relentless rhythmic impulse of this music is oddly reminiscent of hardcore techno. Indeed, several songs have lurching electronic intros or outros; And She Told Me's breathtakingly propulsive drum pattern is pure drum'n'bass. Then there's a cover of Justin Timberlake's Cry Me a River, done entirely straight, which fits in perfectly. It's an indicator both of the melodic homogeneity of current mainstream pop and of Lostprophets' enormous crossover potential: notions of cool don't really apply.