Brighton's Demob Happy descend upon London's lounge bar, The Lexington, bringing with them a menagerie of fellow floor shaking acts. First on the bill are Puppy who provide an abundance of punchy ballads. Puppy's high soaring riffs ultimately serve as testament to the claim that the London three-piece embodies "the sound of growing up listening to Metallica and Pavement in equal measure." Though appearing pleasantly mild mannered onstage, the trios' fierce drums, unbridled ballads and nimble solos are far from meek. Jock Norton's fervid wail is instantly recognisable. Despite the conception of Puppy, earlier material is not entirely discarded as the set is opened with the sludgey slacker anthem 'Holy Smoke' (previously put out under moniker Polterghost).

By second act CuT, both the volume and vigour of the night are sustained. The act's sound is essentially one of confliction that's drawn between archetypal British punk and the stylised sleaziness of the New York Dolls. Skinny and dishevelled, the unhinged London four-piece are a tornado of hair. Primal chugging riffs are delivered with a fearless onstage attitude comprised of leaping about the stage and harshly reverberated vocals.

When the Brightonian quartet, Demob Happy, finally take to the stage they're armed with monolithic guitar riffs and rampaging drums. Their own distinguishing fuzzed-out bass sound has quickly become identifiable as a hallmark of their output. Despite the overall murkiness of their material, Demob are not lacking in virulently infectious licks and colossal hooks. 'Suffer You' is a high-octane ride through a desert in a clapped out El Dorado; supercharged, unsettling and sordid.

Apocalyptic bass thunders throughout the set. There is no aspect of the bands overall sound and live performance that is not of gargantuan proportions. By 'Wash It Down' mid-set, the sheer force of energy displayed by the quartet is still ceaseless. The recurring motif of "wash it down" by this point has developed into a melodic war cry.

'Succubus' manages to sound even more menacing than expected. Its creeping ascendance into the eerily exuberant chorus is ominous. Technical difficulties towards the end of the set ensue, yet the band still manages to maintain their composure and ensnare the audience. Almost instantaneously after Demob leave the stage, the audience eagerly demand an encore. This appears to be indicative of the four piece's ability to grab the listener abruptly by the scruff of the neck and then fleetingly discard them just as forcefully.