But first, it was up to Nashville teenagers Be Your Own PET to warm up the expectant crowd. There's been a lot said about this quartet over the last few months - all still in high school, all years away from their first legal sip of alcohol, they were the subject of much A&R interest earlier this year.

A contract with XL followed, as did rave reviews for their recorded output. Debut single Damn Damn Leash was an impressive statement of intent, a two minute, riff heavy frenzy with some suitably angst filled vocals from Jemima Pearl, their feisty blonde of a lead singer.

On tonight's evidence, however, there was little displayed by them on stage to justify any of the hype - playing for just under 25 minutes, their set was rushed, shambolic and equated to little more than atonal nonsense. Variation was clearly not something they had thought much about, either - such was the over zealous nature of the guitar and bass playing, every song descended into an indecipherable sea of noise.

That's not to say there wasn't promise. In Pearl's voice they have an ace up their sleeve, her frantic and aggressive delivery something to behold at times. Damn Damn Leash did go some way to redeeming things, too - they just need more songs of this quality, and perhaps a couple of numbers that aren't delivered at such breakneck pace. Granted, they're awfully young and can only get better - something to look forward to perhaps.

The headliners couldn't have been a starker contrast to the disorganised frolics of their support. The hypnotic beat of forthcoming single No Wow heralded their arrival on stage, before VV's startling voice took hold, silencing the audience for the song's duration. Dark, cutting and mesmerising in equal measure, it has always been a selling point of this band.

Wandering around the stage like a woman possessed and glaring intently at the crowd as she sang the words, she is a truly charismatic and engaging front woman. Hotel, the other half of The Kills as we know them, was a perfect foil to the free spirit of his partner as he stood firm with his guitar, delivering some menacing riffs. On some songs they stared each other in the eye as they both sang, exuding an on stage chemistry that other duos like The White Stripes strive for but never achieve.

Throughout their hour in the spotlight, they entertained a crowd to the best cuts from their two album back catalogue, with The Good Ones and At The Back Of The Shell being two particular moments of sleazy, blues infused brilliance that PJ Harvey for one would be more than proud of. The pulverising Fried My Little Brains galvanised some frantic movement all round, and an extended run through of Love Is A Deserter brought things to a monumental close.

It's a moot point whether or not this band are destined for the mainstream - a pop punk band with big choruses they certainly aren't - but on the evidence of such sharp, visceral performances they've at least forged themselves a reputation as one of the most exciting live acts around.

  share with:  Facebook | Digg | other sites