Punk rock has become utterly boring – a race to the bottom between hyper-clinical easy-bake musical mannequins who think that the word "tattoo" is Maori for "personality" and (shudder) over-whimsical ADHD kids who probably eat their own all-the-colours-of-the-rainbow Skittle vomit.

Copenhagen's Iceage are, I believe, recently-anointed Pitchfork darlings. The only thing more boring than modern punk rock is a Pitchfork darling.

But let's not get off on the wrong foot here. Let's not get bogged down in negativity. Iceage are four teenage boys who have come to prominence playing am abrasive mix of lo-fi post-punk and thrashy hardcore. Their debut album, New Brigade, has been universally well-received and their no frills live show has been deemed similarly worthy of ovation.

Much has been made of the band's youth and it's hard not to notice that – yes – they look very young as they emerge onstage and begin coyly preparing their instruments. Opener 'White Rune' throbs with menace before chaotic drums spill over atonal guitar scrapes as vocalist Elias nearly misses his microphone while intoning "I am white rune" disinterestedly.

The band's music seems purposefully rudimentary, their stage persona wilfully detached. Plenty of artists have spun the "I let the music do the talking" line, but these kids seem to act as though they don't care if anybody is there to listen. But those who are listening experience some 20 minutes of intensely cold and noisy punk rock, and it isn't boring.

Iceage will go down as a curio of the Vice magazine era, and nobody will remember them two years from now; their music is monotone to the point of being as deep as radio static and their pretense of disdain is irksome, and yet – and yet – they're not boring.

They're not boring because most punk rock right now is boring. And nice. Iceage offer the listener horrible feedback and noise within semi-coherent song structures, they provide messiness and simplicity where others wallow in technicality, and they serve up a healthy dose of nihilism and FUCK YOU attitude. Sure, it's probably fake as hell, heaven, Jesus and Vishnu, and ready-made for worthless hipster shitbags, but theirs is a live show that is refreshing to experience.

This band won't be remembered in two years, no – they simply don't have any tunes. But like their hardcore forebears, they will be rediscovered by a new generation of listeners 20 years from now. And though their music will seem crass, humourless and emotionally uninvolving, those who saw Iceage tonight will be able to tell those kids that they were there in 2011 and that it was a life-changing experience, even though it patently wasn't.

But, halfway through the set – when Elias ditches his guitar and continues only on vocals, swinging about with his mic stand, and the band's music shifts up a gear – you can imagine how it was 20 or 30 years ago to see the likes of Void or Antioch Arrow or the no wave bands: not boring.

And then it's done. It doesn't allow itself the chance to become boring. Everybody present knew what they were investing in when they parted with their £7 tonight and nobody quibbles about the show's brevity or lack of an encore. That's because the sorts of people who would complain about such things are boring.