THE SAN DIEGO Soulmasters have been cutting a swathe around the UK gig circuit, blowing minds from, here to yonder with their souped up, turbo charged and greased lightning rock `n' roll. They've also been getting a lot of copy, as once jaded journos rave about the band's electrifying energy and indisputable cool.

And cool they certainly looked, taking the stage at the Mean Fiddler, dressed in matching bowling shirts and wearing enough grease in their hair to lubricate even the rustiest guitar strings. There was a big turnout for last night's gig, the final one of the band's tour, and Rocket From The Crypt were determined, to leave a lasting impression. They left a bootprint on the brain instead.

The band's opening shot hit the gutter, but it wasn't long before they got a strike and bowled over a few preconceptions in the process. The songs are as straightforward as you can get, with twin guitars crunching down on the chords, the brass adding a bit of seasoning and the throaty vocals wolfing it all down with gusto.

Singer/guitarist Speedo performs like an Elvis impersonator on speed and the whole band come on like Showaddywaddy with liathroidi. Born In `69, the current single from the new album, Scream Dracula Scream, gives an inkling of what Rocket can do with just a couple chords and a hook the size of a trawler. On A Rope is so tight you can feel the noose around your neck, but an older song, The Butcher, leaves you dangling on a meat hook. Like all good rock `n' roll, Rocket From The Crypt are a bit fatty, a bit gristly, but sometimes very tasty.

Much has been made of Rocket's cult status, and the band play up their Hispanic gang persona, creating an atmosphere of camaraderie with their amigos in the moshpit. When the Rocket finally comes to land, they emerge as simply a damn good rock `n' roll band, and although you don't exactly feel tempted to join their gang, at least you don't mind hanging out with them for a while.