Ikara ColtThe Metro, London

The manual of popular journalism says that it’s about time for the Ikara Colt backlash to start. They’ve had twelve months of glowing press, released a couple of incendiary singles, and have got their first frenzied national tour out of the way. In other words, they’ve been built up enough for everyone to notice when they fall. They’ve had their fun, so now it’s supposed to be time for the jaded hacks of the music press to have theirs.

Only it doesn’t look like it’ll be quite that easy to knock them down. While most bands walk into the trap of their own accord by becoming complacent and listless as the world falls at their feet, Ikara Colt are refusing to play by anyone’s rules other than their own. They’re still sticking to a thirty-minute set, but while this is a necessity for many people, they’ve justified much of the hype by dropping half of the old material for new songs that are every bit as compelling. They still open with the barbed adrenaline rush of ‘Escalate’ and rip though ‘Sink Venice’ with fervour, but now the brooding menace and funereal pace of ‘City of Glass’ adds another dimension to the set and proves that their usual high-speed tempo isn’t employed to hide a lack of ability.

That’s not to say that everything is going their way. If you listen closely enough you’ll notice that Clare Ingram isn’t having the best night of her career on guitar and Dominic Young keeps racing ahead of everyone else on the drums. But Paul Resende’s voice seems to be getting stronger with every gig, so there’s not really much cause for complaint just because they screw up the occasional tempo change. They’re still a near-perfect amalgam of hardcore ethics and riot grrl intensity, so we may as well throw away the manual, accept defeat and applaud another damn fine night.