There is a theory tumbling around that the Super Furry Animals are the Welsh Beatles. For those in the know, the idea is a no-brainer. For here is a gang of lovable scruffs with eight albums of well-crafted songs under their belt, swooping deftly between vocal-group pop, wiggy prog, soulful ballads and smart electronica. Their gigs are often full-beam, heart-on-sleeve crowd-pleasers, and tonight is no exception. A Magical Mystery Tour-style lighthouse fills the stage, lit up with colours, and the effect is hugely psychedelic. Given the history of this venue, which hosted Pink Floyd and Soft Machine in the late 1960s, it makes perfect sense.

And tonight, SFA are on fire. The exuberance of their recent LP, the fantastic Hey Venus!, has obviously helped, and its songs mix seamlessly around better-known hits, like the bluesy stomp of Golden Retriever and Northern Lites, tonight "played in the style of Hüsker Dü". There is a new song too, introduced grandly by Gruff Rhys, which turns out to be an instruction to the audience to waggle their hands on their heads and go "ooh ... ooh ... OOOOH". Making fun of the pomposity of rock seems to be SFA's mission, something they underline when they go backstage for 10 minutes "for a rest" rather than endure the dull ritual of an encore.

Synthesisers, guitar effects and the strange sight of Rhys in a robot helmet processing his voice through a platinum microphone that 50 Cent left behind in another venue add to the madness.

The night concludes with 3,000 people singing The Man Don't Give a Fuck and a man gambolling across the stage holding a placard with "The End" written on it. It is a fabulous way to finish, and a moment worthy of Britain's criminally underrated Fab Five.