I’d heard good things on the Manchester music grapevine about two of the four bands on the bill – the headliners, Superkings and main support, Brides of Neptune, so I approached the gig with a greater sense of anticipation than is usually the case. However, reviewing so-called up-and-coming artists can often be a let-down, so I was wearing my sceptical head especially for the occasion. Thankfully, my fears were only half-realised, but more on that later.

Baxter Trappe (not his real name, by the way) opened the evening with an interesting acoustic set. Baxter cut a gaunt shadow of a human being who looked akin to at worse, an Aids victim or, at best someone who’d just woken up from behind the drum kit and crawled onto his chair. Visual aesthetics aside, though, his songs were powerful and interesting, aided by both a strange falsetto delivery that gave them a haunting quality, and an above-average lyrical content.

The less said about Fultons Point the better. Brits trying to be Americans is an unseemly sight at the best of times, but when all the band can muster is bland MOR Americana/R & B, then it’s doubly painful. Competent, but still utterly dreadful, Fultons Point should remain firmly on the pub circuit.

And so to the first of my ‘recommended’ bands. Unfortunately, the ‘Hey, look! I can do ‘American’’ theme continued with Brides of Neptune. Things started brightly enough when I caught sight of a violin as the band took to the stage. But it was to be a false dawn. The question that sprung to my mind during the set was: Why have such an expressive instrument onstage if you’re going to do bugger all with it? Seriously, the violinist looked bored out of her mind playing rudimentary noodlings to what were decidedly average compositions. She was clearly there to add some female glamour, but little else. This ‘band’ is simply a vehicle for the lead singer – who clearly looks in the mirror each day and sees Jack Johnson – to croon his undoubtedly heartfelt, yet sadly mediocre songs.

And so to the headline act, Superkings. Would they have the necessary to deliver us from the depths of blandness? The first thing to say about Superkings, and one that can rarely be said about many bands, is that the quieter, introspective moments are as equal in power and tension as those that precipitate when the members really let rip. Many acts shy away from allowing the audience the opportunity to shatter their world through impertinent conversation, preferring to continually fill the space to avoid the uncomfortable silence. However, Superkings seem to revel in exploiting the potential of the relationship and the audience responded in kind by giving it the room to breathe musically once it realised the strength of songwriting and performance on display.

This is a band with a myriad of moods, splashed, daubed and stroked across a wide musical canvass. Mini-tragedies come alive within the intense, playful, and intriguing vignettes delivered through the warm, honest northern tones of the unassuming, yet charismatic lead singer; a welcome antidote to the ham-fisted affectations that had gone before. Add to this the crucial fact that they have some fantastic songs with beautifully constructed arrangements and immediate, clever, melodies, and you have a band that has the potential to go a long way. Definitely one to watch.