With enough power to blow every bulb on the Wheldon Road floodlights, enough perspiration to melt the Xscape snow and enough passion to set the heart of a Henry Moore statue a-flutter, Castleford's rock revolutionaries Allusondrugs threw down their challenge with a vengeance: who's gonna stop us now?
The aural and visual spectacle of the band at full throttle broaches no dissension against that question: it's a screen of flying hair behind which Jemal Malki's bass lays down concrete-solid foundations for Damo Hughes' precision guitar work while Jason Moules howls to within a millimetre of his vocal cords' lives. However, beneath the wilful chaos there's also invention, subtlety, light and shade which even the fuzzed-up chords and thunderclap volume can't disguise: don't judge this band on first impressions, however good those impressions might be.
It's that sonic ying and yang which has confounded many attempts to pigeonhole Allusondrugs – grunge and psychedelia are the two most frequently attempted – but if they ever were the Nirvana copyists they were occasionally labelled in their early days, tonight's show (and doubtless the rest of the relentless schedule of gigs to which they're currently subjecting themselves) draws a double thickness bright red line beneath those accusations.
True, the likes of Nervous and Should Have Gone To Uni make good use of the quiet-LOUD-quiet structure trademarked by Cobain & Co but the newest songs in a short but storming set show how far they've come in a couple of years – hell, to these ears, if latest EP track Her Crown sounds like anything at all from that era, it's something Blur did around 1993…
And as for Damo's fetching combination of ladies' red satin blouse and random knit tweed jacket (complete with '80s shoulder pads), frankly, it's a visual image which defies comparison with anything else. Cool, though, Damo, cool.
So throw open the city gates for Allusondrugs – for like the flood-swollen River Aire thundering over Castleford weir or Kevin Ward bursting on to an inside ball from Bob Beardmore (ask yer dad, kids), surely there's nothing can resist the onward surge of this new WF10 phenomenon.
WfL rating: 4.5/5