After bringing us, in the early 1990s, the likes of Nirvana, Mudhoney and Soundgarden, Seattle's Sub-Pop label was once synonymous with all things grunge and trendy. However, as Sub-Pop's output dwindled, so did its fortunes. Now it is pinning its hopes on bands like Canadians the Constantines.

Five charismatically awkward-looking young men from Guelph, Ontario, they arrive on these shores with a sound something like an amphetamined Bruce Springsteen fronting an amalgam of angular rockers Big Black and a more psychedelic Talking Heads. The unusual musical cocktail is topped off with curious but effective visual touches, such as frontman Bryan Webb playing guitar above his head or the band standing with their arms in the air for a good two minutes, before crashing into another chord. It's immediately apparent why their homeland has been receptive to their Shine a Light album but frothed over their live performances.

Webb is the unlikely star. Semi-bequiffed, polite and white-shirted, he has the old-fashioned demeanour of someone a grandmother would call a "nice young man". However, he gradually undergoes a Hulk-like transition into an bulging-eyed maniac. It's difficult to resist the band's jerking exuberance, even though the songwriting is occasionally too intricate for its own good. For the tension-wracked Nighttime, Webb's stomps on the stage form the percussion. They've a way to go to match their illustrious label predecessors, but a ferocious version of Lou Reed's Temporary Thing causes a clamour for encores that are delivered long into the night.