The first thing that strikes you about the Patty Winters Show is the frontman’s attire. Dressed in knee length socks, plus fours, a tanktop and a greased down side parting you’d assume he was a stereotypical toff, were it not for the large pink triangle pinned to his chest. Performing at 7:45 to a mere handful of quiet sober punters, they appear a tad nervous but within a few numbers, they have settled down, the Metro’s filled out and by the time they leave the stage most of us are disappointed that they’ve only been given a cut down support slot. Fans of the genuine C86 sound, rather than the twee myth, will appreciate what they do; jarring squawking guitars, occasionally shambling tunesmanship, pace shifting delivery and soaring female vocal harmonies that contrast with the monotone male ones. It sounds like it should be rubbish, but of course it isn’t, it’s actually an exciting contrast to the cock rockers, gutter schmutters and punk funkers who fill our alternative airwaves. More please. Much more.

If there’s one thing the Electric Shocks don’t lack, it’s confidence. The frontman oozes it though quite why is unfathomable as the band peddle very average formulaic pop rock. He also loses what few marks they earn during their set by taking the piss out of S*M*A*S*H for being too old when he and his chums probably have almost as many candles on their own cake as your average UKIP member. Next!

I like M.A.S.S. Musically they bomb blast their way through with their frantic blues-tinged pop torpedos but the major focal point is vocalist Justine, who in addition to a lung busting rawk delivery, has a bubbly personality that guarantees your appreciation. Relocated to France from their adopted South London roots, shows in Blighty are now less common. Still, fortunately they are doing rather well on the Continent and with aural gems like the Lust for Life-like Testify and a spiky new one that may be called You Don’t Own Me, it’s not difficult to see why.

The years away from our eyes have been remarkably kind to the 90s new wave of new wave (copyright: NME) proponents S*M*A*S*H. Still lean and muscular in looks and as tight as a duck’s chuff musically they are much better live than their recorded output perhaps suggests. Lady Love Your Cunt still gets the juices flowing but I was disappointed that their finest moment, the homicidal punk classic I Want to Kill Somebody has been butchered from their set list for some reason.

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