The rules at a Sunshine Underground show, says their guitarist, Stuart Jones, are: "Get sweaty, get involved". As if there's a choice. Sweatiness is a given - shoehorning several hundred people into a railway arch chamber has that effect - and involvement follows in the form of what crowd-control experts call "lateral sway". In other words, a few minutes' exposure to the Leeds-based band's frenetic rave-rock seems to compel people to lurch from side to side, some waving green glowsticks. It would probably look impressive photographed from above.

The 18-month-old Sunshine Underground rarely avoid comparisons with New York's Rapture, whose propensity for shuddering rhythms and yelpy vocals they share. But it's the memory of John Lydon's post-punk groundbreakers Public Image Limited that seems to be propelling them along tonight.

Jones and second guitarist/singer Craig Wellington carve a path with spiteful, industrial jabs, and Daley Smith and Matthew Gwilt maintain a buzzy pulse on bass and drums, making a sound that is as confrontational as punk, but as compelling as funk. Wellington's carping vocals, pitched to sound like a 14-year-old arguing with mum about staying out late, are the icing. All that's missing is Lydonesque charisma. Even without it, they transport the audience to a damp frenzy. More glowsticks come out during the single Commercial Break - played twice, perhaps because it's got more of a tune than the rest - and the venue turns into an indoor version of the recently re-excavated rave scene.

According to reports of their Reading and Leeds shows, the Sunshine Underground are a natural festival outfit, and you can see why: Wellington's indecipherable wails and the thrumming percussive undertow, augmented by Jones's occasional turn on mini-drums, are made to be heard in a space unconstrained by walls and roof. Their debut album, Raise the Alarm, played almost in full here, must sound absolutely monstrous outdoors.

· At Bestival, Isle of Wight, tonight. Box office: 08700 667753.