You've got to feel sorry for Seattle's Modest Mouse. Just when they're showing signs of emerging from the indie-rock underground, thanks to plaudits for their latest album, Good News For People Who Love Bad News, and a Flaming Lips remix, the Pixies, whom they echo in every aching scream and troublesome chord-change, reform and steal their thunder. But after a decade of waiting for someone beyond their cult US following to notice their feverish hymns to white-trash discontent, no one's going to steal this moment from singer Isaac Brock.

He looks like a skinny John Belushi taking time out from Animal House - all wide-eyed stares and manic intensity as his voice falls from a Tom Waits-style roar to a warped Wayne Coyne. He's a man of few words, leaving his range and resonance to speak for him instead. Which it does, admirably. As the squelchy notes of Black Cadillacs turn into a boisterous stomp, Brock's voice battles against not just his thunderous guitar, but that of Dan Galucci, who rocks gently back and forth, seemingly oblivious as Brock's quiet serenade turns to a full-on assault with the likelihood of life-endangering battery.

It's not only the tension in Brock's singing that prises Modest Mouse out of collegiate hell, it's their array of styles and instrumentation. Drums are succinct, military almost. The banjo-led bluegrass of Satin in a Coffin sits uncomfortably against the skewed sing-along of Float On. A double bass adds murky style to Wild Packs, heavy against a plethora of light percussion.

Though lyrically dark, these are sweet, even pretty, pop songs dressed up as sprawling, gut-wrenching epics. But thanks to the dismal sound quality, it's the force that wins out, especially in the 15-minute tour rant of Cowboy Dan Galooch. Led by a fitful violin Brock squirms, soothes and screeches his way past the comparisons, the ebb and furious flow of the melody utterly mesmerising, his spotlight completely deserved.