"Have you noticed these days there's a thin line between going over the top and going under the ground?" Thus begins the considered repartee of snarling frontman Johnny Cooke, whose rock'n'roll rebels Dogs have clearly found a way to do both, having managed to bark their way into the Top 40 three times in a year, without resorting to any kind of kennel training.

Cooke chose their canine moniker because he wanted the band to be a pack, and because dogs are "funny, stupid, and shit anywhere." What the London-based five-piece couldn't have known, though, was that their audiences would prove to be even more rabid. Dogs' fans manage to bring tonight's live show to a halt, with an invasion of around 40 excited young pups climbing all over the stage and the performers, who eventually shoo them off. "But if it was me out there, I'd be doing the same," concedes a rather dazed Cooke, adding a deadpan "It's nice to be wanted."

Cooke is a particularly English sort of hero, with a voice straight out of Quadrophenia and a droll wit that is cocky but vulnerable. He has claimed that he hates London, but he reveals a fondness for it tonight, announcing: "This one's for our city, and for everyone who has to get on the fucking bus in the morning, wondering what's in your mate's rucksack," before covering the Jam's A Bomb in Wardour Street.

On record, the choruses of She's Got a Reason ("I liked you better when you liked me as well"), and Selfish Ways ("I'll bring you firewood, but I'll burn your house down") make you want to hate Dogs for being so foolishly angry, and the music comes across as a tired rehash of proto punk. But their live show is such an incredibly precise machine, with their sharp teeth glistening, that you cannot help but be led astray by the deranged joy of it all.

· At the Unleashed music festival, Newquay, on August 6. Details: ripcurlboardmasters.com