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Ok, 5 acts on one night... that's practically a festival. It also leads to a pretty sharp start to the evening, meaning that opener Aaron Shanley has far too few people there to appreciate what's happening. It's a shame as the stripped down acoustic led material is beautifully crafted, gentle and folky, echoing the likes of Donovan and Devendra Banhart. No matter, for Aaron's time will surely come.

Practically tripping over the opening act, Elspeth are onstage quickly, seemingly anxious to get going. �The Taster' sets the tone - 90s brit-rock style guitars that grew up in the wake of the Pixies. It's melodic and methodical, slightly downtempo, but measured in it's approach. �Old Age' continues in the same early-Radiohead/Mansun vein and �Twenty-Four Hour Paramedics' has a cracking riff, adding a pop sheen to the rock. We'll keep an eye on these dapper gentlemen.

In Contrast, Phoenix Fire are not as laid back, exuding a nervous energy, and being a little anxious to please in their bonhomie. They don't really need to though, their twin vocalists helping to make them stand out from the crowd. What also helps differentiate them are the number of bands you can spot in there - from the punk-funk of Foals, to the classic rock of Fleetwood Mac and Blue Oyster Cult, to a touch of Frightened Rabbit. The stand-out moment would have to have be �Don't Let Me' - starting quietly, a la Bat For Lashes or Tori Amos, the strong female vocal lulls us before the spiky guitar stabs in, in a way that PJ Harvey would approve of.

The Riptide Movement. It's hard not to feel for these guys - they're the outsiders here, and generally we all like to support the underdog. Unfortunately, their good old fashioned southern-fried bar blues quickly becomes samey. I swear you can almost see the dust clouds from the General Lee as they rattle out tight, professional 70s style rock and roll. Nothing wrong with that, but nothing startlingly original either, especially with a cliched �yee-ha� thrown in. It becomes predictable and pedestrian, without the touch of the devil thrown in that is needed to lift it to Skynrd-influenced, rather than Skynrd-tribute.

Clown Parlour are a side project from mojoFURY's Mike Mormecha, but confusingly he's accompanied by some of his Mojo band-mates this evening. However, the material is more personal than mojoFURY, with �The Rabbit' (a gypsy folk number with a bit of Devendra weirdness) sitting alongside �She Wants It''s punkier sound of spat vocal and Hammond organ. �Snake Wears Boots' is a sparse love song about the bitter arguments of relationship, and the jumping about between styles and influences leads to the conclusion that this is indeed a bit of a delve into the personal tastes of Mike. And it's a good place to be. He can (but shouldn't) give up the day job anytime.

William Johnston