Βι¶ΉΤΌΕΔ

One of the joys of the Trans festival has been its use of different venues from the usual gig locations - from the Dome in Victoria Square to the Studio and Penthouse Bar in the Waterfront. Tonight, we venture to historic, gritty Sailortown for arguably the most unusual of the lot - a boxing ring for a contest between labels from North and South. Before the scrapping can begin however, we require a ring announcer, ably assisted by the lovely ring-ladies, who declares that there shall be no biting, no low blows and no Stairway.

Round 1, and leading out for the Richter Collective, in a late replacement, are Continuous Battle Of Order. Presumably no protest had been lodged by their opponents, but perhaps it should have been these Battlers come out swinging. Post-rock funk rhythms and loops thrown together in ordered chaotic wonderfulness in the same mad vein as ASIWYFA and Adebesi Shank, while, when the two piece both switch to drums, they pound out a samba-style beat leaving them sweating like warriors, before a maddening, frantic, screaming, unholy climax.

Presumably following some last minute instructions from their cornermen, and hailing from "Birmingham, in somewhere called England", the visiting Calories sally forth for the honour of Smalltown America, perhaps hampered by being up since 4am - these pre-fight rituals obviously take some time. There's a bit of Dinosaur Jr in there, that melodic, hooky, slightly chimey, rock influenced guitar music, while 'In Parody' is quite Blur or Graham Coxon. There's a touch of the gang-rock pop about them, 'New Grass' is a suitably loud and punky closing number, yet still containing a bit of subtlety, for the about a minute and a half it lasts. Short, and sweet, and probably not bad for your health.

Stepping up the weight classes, its time for Not Squares in the squared circle, bringing their own brand of sweet science. Seconds outs - ding ding - as it's starting to get beautifully ugly. Aptly, it's all business a pounding techno beat, for a demented New Order meets Black Angels by way of drug-fuelled remix opening, with the Rapture or !!!-esque dance funk of 'Every Night', and indeed most of their stuff, like Foals fully grown into bucking broncos. They can do the gentler numbers as well, but still with a heavy dose of cool and funk. Breaking out what might be a special number for this evening, 'Jonny Black Can F***ing Die', it's wonderful Pop Group madness, impossible not to dance to with it's synths and FX, and an 80s Justice style groove. Music for an indie (and every other) kid to dance to. As the crowd howl for more, it seems the lack of lyrics is probably to avoid distracting your brain from the important business of throwing yourself into the chaos. That has to be a standing 8 count at least.

And so, let the chaos reign as Lafaro try to claim the title of the Lords of the Ring. First though, can they, and the crowd, lift themselves off the canvas after that blow from Not Squares? 'Leningrad' provides the answer as they come out swinging like Tyson, all fury, sweat and demons. ΜύRecent newbie, 'I Believe In You', continues their toying with us, it's raucous hoedown vibe in the twisted tradition of the Pogues, while 'Great Conversations Remembered...' has a breakdown so laced with intent, you'd swear they were confronting you in a dark alley. Their "theme song", 'Tuppenny Nudger' is a brutal as ever, topped by Jonny's sneering devil vocals, as they bounce off the ropes. Closing with the more melodic 'Say Who You Are', they pay for not pressing home their advantage, as the judges declare a draw.

Bring on the rematch. In a cage. With weapons.

William Johnston