With the Commonwealth games on the horizon, Glasgow's latest musical exports are pretty much the antithesis of the image the city would like to project of itself. The Amazing Snakeheads' brutalist rock'n'roll seems to teeter on a knife-edge between palpable menace and outright violence, an intimidatory experience akin to walking into the wrong pub in the wrong place at the wrong time. They are the answer to a question we're surprised it's taken this long for anyone to ask, namely: what would Francis Begbie's band sound like?

Fear and Loathing on Sauchiehall Street, more or less. Yet the growing excitement that surrounds these recent Domino signings is entirely justified. Many young bands talk proudly of going for a "live" sound on their first album, but you suspect the Snakeheads' – due in April – will do well to recreate even a fraction of the white-hot intensity and evangelical zeal on display tonight. The performance – particularly that of frontman Dale Barclay, who prowls the stage like a disturbed zoo animal, veins bulging from his temples and his lower jaw locked in a permanent rave-casualty grimace – is absolutely integral to the likes of Testifying Time, their 73-second debut single, and Where Is My Knife?, a snarling, malicious thrash delivered with a sociopathic twinkle in the eye. Meanwhile, it goes without saying that no recording will ever capture the full gaudy horror of the trio's taste in silk printed shirts, an ocular assault to rival the aural one.

With the audience thrusting gratefully-accepted bottles of Buckfast their way, and the gnarled rockabilly influence of Uncle John & Whitelock and Big Ned readily apparent, the Amazing Snakeheads do seem a peculiarly Glaswegian proposition, which makes their current buzz-band status all the more surprising. While they may not be revolutionary, however, their conviction is infectious and their commitment to being evil nothing less than laudable. In a world of tepid high-street indie, here's a band for the darkened alleys.