The hubbub surrounding Welsh rockers Deaf Club has been one ever-growing of late. And for that, you can't really blame them. Residing in a pool of the best of the lot: shoegazing fluently, the Gothic guitar drops of The Cure and pinching a thing or two from Warpaint, they're a band certainly not afraid to break the confines of one single genre. You'd be fooled into thinking somewhere Robert Smith shouted "Ready, Set, Go!." as they've already scurried down from Wales to reside in London, dropped two EP's, Lull and Sunday/ Mirrors, played a hefty handful of shows from King Tut's to Dot To Dot and supported sisters 2:54 after a lucky brief encounter at Field Day last year. The result? Gratifying nods from the likes of the BBC, trusty Paul Lester of the Guardian and amateur music blogs et al.

Of course, as befitting as the quintet may look to a college art-museum expedition, Deaf Club aren't ones to mess around, especially lead vocalist and guitarist Polly Mackey who, after all, has already flirted with a career in music journalism and PR-ing. She knows the ways, as she shamelessly self-promotes: "our new single is at the back on the table in vinyl, for those of you who're interested."

Now, launching their endearing, Warpaint-exuding new single 'Moving Still' on Too Pure, Deaf Club welcome themselves to the cosy confines of Old Blue Last. After French Kiss boys Trip Wires and Sheffield Town's bass-driven, party starters Mad Colours (who are all bright shirts and microphones made to look like willies stuck between their legs) kicks things off, opener 'Sunday' truly gets the cogs oily and warm. Already the band play in precise synchronization; it's the avant-garde drum patterns that truly hold the songs together, but the synth is eerie and atmospheric, the swaths of guitar and Paul Bates' bass complementing each other exquisitely.

Guitarist Jac Roberts hides away behind the speakers as Poppy meets and greets the various platforms around the room:"You feel like, the hearts will grow / The Hillside, the water's cold / Take me home / Take me home." Three overly-incongruous bankers at the front giggle frivolously as they joke about their "hipster" Shoreditch environment, but it's not long before their eyes are fixated and their jaws hung low, which, upon Mackey's noticeable realization of this, puts a cheesy grin on her face. We guess that's another fan base to add to the Deaf Club list.

The doleful sensation of 'Mirrors' and the reverb-cloaked 'Hana' leads onto the undoubted, ear-arousing highlight of tonight's event, the more primitive 'Postcard', which manages to fluctuate effortlessly between brooding atmospheres; one moment the music is languid and gently trailing, the next it's explosive and brilliantly dispositional. Unequivocally though, the best bits are in fact in between, when the tension climbs and climbs, until it suddenly falls, taking every person in ear-length down under with it. Come 11:30pm, despite the odd whisper of "wow" (from the bankers, no least), Deaf Club are finished, and make a quick dash backstage before anyone can even shout an "encore!", which actually probes the almighty question on everyone's minds tonight: where's this album we're so patiently and desperately waiting for Deaf Club, eh?