Super Furry Animals

If throbbing, low-frequency bass rumbling makes your stomach churn, then you would have been advised to leave last night's Super Furry Animals gig before the end of The Man Don't Give A F***.

Unfortunately, I stayed, and got my ears bashed by Cian Ciaran's parting shot of techno, which ended an otherwise pleasant if uninspired gig, and which kind of dulled the SFA experience for me a bit. It all started off auspiciously, with the Welsh band cranking into Wherever I Lay My Phone (That's My Home) and continuing with God! Show Me Magic. Alas, the magic didn't materialise as often as I've come to expect from a Super Furry Animals show.

Compared to their Manchester Apollo gig earlier this summer, which featured 26 television sets all tuned to the same psychedelic channel, the band's Olympia gig was positively pedestrian, but at least it walked with weirdo pride.

She's Got Spies was definitely the agent of some serious crowd response, but Chewing Chewing Gum had the audience singing with gusto, leaving singer Gruff Rhys as speechless as a man with a Wrigleys stuck in his throat. The Turning Tide washed nicely up on the summery kettle drum and trumpets of Northern Lites, while Fire In My Heart threatened to explode in a burst of musical alchemy.

The Mountain People and Demons worked their usual wiles, and Ice Hockey Hair flailed about gracefully before hitting its pile-driving stride. The finale, however, was like being pulverised by the whole hockey team - fun to watch from the sidelines, but absolute torture in the thick of it. Show us you give a f***, lads - drop the worn-out techno stick.