After six years and three fine albums, Cincinnati-via-New York alt-rockers the National are starting to get the attention they deserve. They have a deal with indie label Beggars Banquet, and current album Alligator gives their compelling Americana a commercial gloss without smothering its eccentric sparkle.

Madness and release are the prevailing themes here: lead singer Matt Berninger's lyrics paint men teetering between collapse and epiphany, stuck at horrible parties, mired in bad relationships and destined to expose themselves to ballerinas.

For all this passion and strangeness, on record the National are stately and poised. Live, they sound frayed and desperate. Berninger is either tipsy or scared, his hands clamped on to the mic, his body stretched to the ceiling and his eyes screwed tight, as if to convince himself he's the only one in the room. All the Wine, the night's opener, is a fine showcase for his intensity, the band moving from silken riff to a thudding rhythm section while Berninger's deep croon becomes a shredded shout.

These songs take country's sense of infinite regret and mix it with indie's fierce self-absorption. It's an engagingly varied sound: in only a few minutes, the group have moved from Abel - an intense, clattering take on Springsteen's fast-paced blue-collar dramas - to Wasp's Nest, a song of such lazy, resigned malice that you feel like sinking into the shadows and curling up into a ball.

Yet the group prove an amiable bunch. Berninger joshes about Glasgow's hostels and the false drama of encores. They finish with About Today, its eerie contemplation dissolving into a crescendo of guitars, fiddle and cymbals. Suddenly, it's over, and half the crowd is in the queue at the album stall. If they carry on like this, the National might just get the success their songcraft merits.

· At the 100 Club, London W1, tonight and tomorrow. Box office: 020-7636 0933.