Mylo
Scala, London N1

Dance music, we're told by many critics, is dead. Stop me if you've heard this one before. No, really this time, we're told. At this week's Brits Awards there will be no award for Best Dance Act, the organisers having replaced it with a new Best Live Act, because dance music is no longer 'happening'. Add the demise of dance music mags, superclubs like Ministry of Sound, and the several long awaited comeback albums from heavyweights such as the Prodigy and Fatboy Slim sinking without trace and, well, case closed isn't it?

Hardly. We might have seen the demise of the all-powerful superstar DJs whose egos were only matched by the vast fees they commanded, and super clubs that spawned them, but that can only be a good thing for everyone apart from the egotistical jocks themselves.

Dance music thrives on reinvention, and whenever dominant clubs or scenes begin to stagnate you can guarantee that somewhere, in a basement or back room, there's a riot going on. Someone, in their bedroom, will be twisting the rules, experimenting with the formula, to create something fresh.

The arrival of last year was Mylo, a 24-year-old philosophy graduate from the Isle of Skye. Mylo, aka Myles MacInnnes, made his debut Destroy Rock'N'Roll at home, then sold 100,000 copies of it on his own independent label Breastfed. A remarkable achievement. Especially when dance music is dead. Even the likes of Elton were moved to enthuse 'every home should have a copy of this album'.

Tonight is the biggest London gig to date, but it's not nearly big enough, as half of the capital's jaded clubbers and fashionistas are scrabbling to get in. He may have made the album on his own on a secondhand G4, but thankfully for the live experience, he's roped in a couple of old schoolmates from Skye, creating a three-pronged attack of two synths and bass guitar.

As they hit the stage, the sample of the anti-rock preacher from Destroy Rock'N' Roll ' sounds out, and they launch straight into the current single. They bounce around behind their machinery, and the visuals help it being too static - distorted and exaggerated images, streamed titles in Mylo's distinctive spraypainted typography, fizzing white noise.

We get most of the album; with 'Muscle Cars' sounding like it's been working out since the album was released, and 'In My Arms' sounding even more unselfconsciously euphoric. Some of the more downtempo moments such as 'Sunworshipper' wobble perilously close towards Lemon Jelly territory, but for the most part it's suitably down and dirty, and at its best it matches the heady heights Daft Punk are capable of when they're not taking themselves too seriously. Deliciously meaty, big and bouncy.

When, finally, they get to their breakthrough 'Drop The Pressure', the venue is bouncing in a manner not seen since Scissors Sisters played here this time last year. With Sony having picked up the album and now set to market it to a wider audience, Mylo is ready for a 2005 every bit as whirlwind as the Scissors' 2004.

Dance music's not dead, it never was, and tonight Mylo proved once again that rumours of its demise have been greatly exaggerated.