When Will I Be Famous?

Reassuring proof that the nation is in no danger of running out of eccentrics, Sunderland teenagers The Futureheads are a quirky pleasure, two words that rarely go together in my vocabulary. So clean cut that you might well imagine them growing up to occupy a librarian's desk, or, God forbid, a dentist's surgery, for now they play rowdy, enjoyably shambolic stop-start indie pop, best captured on their new single "Carnival Kids" and their frankly astonishing cover of Kate Bush's "Hounds of Love". One day they could become the next Clinic or Super Furry Animals. They're already the old XTC.

Los Angeles' The Warlocks, with two drummers and no less than four guitarists, must be a soundman's nightmare. Acutely aware of musical history, (the name was previously used by two little bands who later became The Velvet Undergound and The Grateful Dead), they're the latest in a long line of Californian stoner anglophiles, most recently Dandy Warhols and BRMC. Their first British release The Phoenix Album is largely terrific, but tonight they eschew their pop(ish) side, instead grinding through their slower, dronier numbers to frequently dramatic effect. Leader Bobby Hecksher is a diffident front man, given to an anaemic whine (which never hindered obvious comparison Spiritualized), but when both kits start pounding, it's like a cross between peak Jesus and Mary Chain and Adam and the Ants. Yep, that good. Single "Heart Attack Hurricane" is, if possible, a sleazier Happy Mondays.

Har Mar Superstar is Sean Tillman, a tiny, plump, balding Minnesotan with a healthy resemblance to porno star Ron Jeremy (or a young Danny DeVito) and a long history of diverse musical adventures. Somewhere between performance art and stand-up, his loverman persona, over minimal electro beats, is hysterically entertaining. Highlights of his gradual strip show include the appearance of a gold dressing gown, like Ricky Gervais's next opponent might wear, and an uncanny, pants only rendition of "Sir Duke", which Stevie Wonder or the audience of Stars In Their Eyes would enjoy. Luckily the musical muscle of tunes like "Power Lunch" and "Elephant Walk" is undeniable, each one would grace the Vice City soundtrack.

The 22-20s hail from Lincolnshire, and have unaccountably been hailed as a British answer to The White Stripes. I'd thought Rory Gallagher was dead, and as the trio thrashed through yet another rip-off of Hendrix's take on "The Killing Floor", I felt the blues he must have suffered. To be fair, friends claim to have seen them scorch, but tonight at least the Emperor's new clothes were faded denim. Give me the Technicolor Darkness anytime. More ambitious are the endearingly pretentious Hope of the States, who boast matching uniforms and charming film projections. Singer Sam Herlihy, a less nutritionally challenged Craig Nicholls, is an engaging front man while single "Black Dollar Bills" and closer "Enemies/Friends", poised somewhere between Radiohead and Mogwai's dramatic sweeps, are better than merely promising.