Moustachioed singer Yannis Philippakis has said that Foals intend to destroy the music industry from the inside out. But first they have to stop annihilating themselves. "I got my earring ripped off my face," says Philippakis, recounting a recent post-gig scuffle. "Jimmy chipped a tooth. But we had a good time."

Hedonism, violence, precision and abandon are all facets of Foals' sound. The Oxford five-piece sound like the Rapture fronted by a petulant Robert Smith but they share a thirst for experimentation with their home town's favourite sons, Radiohead. Foals' first two singles, Mathletics and Hummer, blend math-pop, indie guitars, techno beats and electro keyboards. Their shows and penchant for house parties are already the stuff of legend - but with the requisite stage invasion curtailed by security men, it is left to the band to throw themselves around.

Philippakis and fellow guitarist Jimmy Smith stand opposite one another, staggering and spinning to the heavy rhythm of The French Open, with the semicircle set-up completed by thrusting bassist Walter Gervers and keyboard player Edwin Congreave, whose robotic dance moves send him flying into Smith's path. The writhing bass-lines, keyboards and Smith's high, Editors-eque guitar stir up the mosh pit, though the subtlety of Foals' complex sound is sacrificed to climactic breaks and big beats. Red Socks Pugie, introduced by Philippakis as Foals' "first love song", still sounds like a series of swift kicks rather than kisses. But when they are this exciting, you feel they might just make good on Philippakis's threat.