These are the best three bands in Britain without an ignorant doubt. Sure heat stroke has just kicked in, I’m a little drunk and I just found out I failed my course at University (little Hitler’s), but hey, life somehow trudges blindly on and I have a feeling that not much else can ruin this night. Except maybe a suicide bomber in the mosh pit, but with the alcohol I’m consuming a missing arm won’t bother me too much.

It’s a great venue, the pints cost over three quid and Kill Kenada take the stage at the very un-rock time of about 8.45pm. New Yamaha guitar blasts away any apprehension during opener ‘Red & Black,’ while the ponces at the back drinking Pimm’s and admiring each others Ramone’s t-shirts, take note and shuffle forward just as brilliant B-side ‘Hit the Floor’ stabs them between their lightly plucked eyebrows. The band sound aggressively louder then ever before, and have the songs and the stage presence that should be headlining tonight’s gig. It is quite unbelievable that they haven’t even got a deal. It has to be akin to ethnic cleansing as one of earth’s travesties. I mean songs like ‘Choke’, ‘Soap’, ‘Massachusetts Murder Medallions’ and ‘Scram!’ need to be heard by more than just the fans of other bands and enjoyed in bigger venues than the Camberwell Crypt (?). The real trump card tonight however, is the song introduced as ‘Weapons of the Night.’ It will surely break them ‘big’ as Zane Lowe will be crippled and pant pissing with delight again when this one is surely released as a single. It’s one of those things called a big Ol’ tune with, dare I say it, a bit of a Bloc Party-ish beginning and a slightly teary eyed uplifting chorus. I’m not talking Lighthouse Family ‘uplifting’ chorus, I’m talking fucking break a kneecap chorus. It’s so good I can forgive the pre meditated jump over the crowd into Mr Manager’s arms at the end. It’s rare to have three great musicians in one band being so good at the beginning of their powers and I guarantee those Queen etched notes will be making prostitute faces at them soon. Otherwise I’ll become a fan of Placebo.

So yourcodenameis:milo have a lot to live up to then. The bar has been raised so high that George Best won’t be able to order a large whiskey from it. The big Geordie lads of YCNIM have been hyped up a little from various self possessed magazines and have even recorded with the scud missile that is Steve Albini, so I’m expecting my fair share of greatness. They scale it with ease but a bit to easily, and well I’m comparing them to a great performance before them so you get what I mean. They start with the awesome three pronged guitar shark attack of ‘All Roads to Fault’ and then kind of lose me in some At The Drive-In heavy sonic tinkering until best song ‘Problem’ tries to rip a new arsehole in the venue. More riffaging and soft/loud dynamics ensue and I become a little thirsty so I decide to vacate to the bar and talk to someone about Sonic Youth, who suddenly realises in a puff of logic that each band must owe a huge debt to them. Wow, genius slow down! Einstein sleeps peacefully.

Anyway, Milo finish and raise the bar precisely 4.7 centimetres higher. It’s quite hard to imagine England producing three bands so good compared to the passé shit wheeled out gereatrically in the past few months. I mean fucking Keane. Come on guys, the lead singer looks like a bloated foetus. Don’t get me started on The Darkness. I mean Auschwitz is too good for them. And if they are the prisoners of war Ikara Colt are the wardens, and what great wardens they make. T’ Colt are truly worship material. If they were American they would be headlining Reading, Glastonbury earning a cesspit full of money and all have hard drug problems. But fortunately they are from London and have the oppressive hands of idiot record companies and magazines hindering their growth, so I get to see them at the Garage in Islington. Every single song they have or have made is innovative and new album ‘Modern Apprentice’ is crafted with hard, unforgiving poppy songs that take them onto a whole new level. The beautiful new bassist punts out Pac-Man sounding bass lines over dark guitar harmonics, voyeuristic insomniac lyrics and drum beats by apparently ‘the hardest working drummer in the business,’ according to Mr lead singer. ‘Wanna be that way’ starts things off and creates a mosh pit out of fluffy punk girls followed by recent single ‘Wake the City’ that gets me punched in the face by one of these physically intimidating felines and having to stand just behind the pit nursing a slightly broken jaw and bruised ego. ‘I’m with Stupid’ ‘Waste Ground’ and ‘Automatic’ compliment older songs like the awe inspiring ‘Sink Venice’ ‘One Note’; and ‘Rudd’ perfectly, the latter making me do silly hand counting gestures. Purely brilliant, and to top it all off a fight starts when a girl punches her boyfriends ‘aggressor’ square in the face and they get chucked out by security. What more could anyone ask for? Except maybe a pass on a University exam paper, of course.