It seems a little unfair to compare the fortunes of High On Fire with Mastodon ("the new Metallica"), but as they essentially plough the same furrow of uber-heavy, prog-influenced metal, and were labelmates and touring buddies before the latter hit the big time, it is inescapable. So while Mastodon are off receiving Grammy nominations and playing enormodomes with A-list rock bands, High On Fire have to "make do" with the more traditional career path of playing packed-out sweatboxes like the Underworld. However, if this in any way bothers them, they hide it well.

"I wanna see some thrashin' and fucking drinkin', and all that other bad stuff you guys do," implores Matt Pike, the Californian trio's singer and guitarist, before unleashing a barrage of Black Sabbath riffing and cro-magnon growls. Unsurprisingly, the assembled mass of hirsute, perspiring (mostly) men follow his commands to the letter. Such is the irresistible power created by High On Fire's wall of sound, if Pike suggested that everyone present were not actually crammed together in a rank Camden basement, but instead were vikings riding fiery motorbikes to Valhalla, one could only nod in solemn agreement.

The unyielding nature of the three-piece's pummelling doom anthems was almost too much to take, but they were never anything less than compelling. They, like their spiritual forebears Motörhead, have a formula, and see no real need to stray from it too much - just enough to keep things interesting. While Mastodon's more outre experiments have made them "the thinking person's metal band", High On Fire content themselves with being the most unrelenting juggernaut of beard rock they can possibly be - and if people get swept up along on the way, all the better. And we were, believe me.