Proving that you should never underestimate the entertainment value of local show-openers, Sketchshow fizz and pop with youthful enthusiasm. The Southampton quintet fire out tasty little nuggets of funky, proggy melodic rock and, as they plot a course for the studio at the end of the year, there’s as much room for growth as there is talent in these homegrown hopefuls.

There are parts of Tangled Hair’s performance where the level of raw skill and ability is enough to make you weep. The trio flit with laser precision between delicate solo refrains from singer-guitarist Alan Welsh and full-band freneticism, but then each composition is followed by lashings of brilliant onstage banter. Humour is a facet that holds some bands back from graduating from the school of Mike Kinsella worship, but Tangled Hair are not one of those bands, sounding stunning on nearly every conceivable level.

There would be no shame in Delta Sleep admitting they have been upstaged by their Big Scary Monsters labelmates, but they are far too dogged to do such a thing. From the moment they spring to life with ‘El Pastor’, the four-piece perform what is essentially a 50-minute balancing act.

For every moment of jagged intensity in ‘After Dark’ and ‘Sans Soleil’, there’s a pocket of warmth and humility that bursts open on a glorious rendition of ‘Single File’ and the euphoric swell of ‘Sultans of Ping’. There’s a ramshackle nature to the way they playfully tear through their set, yet somehow they never miss a single off-kilter beat or fluorescent vocal harmony.

As we brace ourselves for the chillier months ahead, Delta Sleep’s joyous vibes wrap around the crowd like summer’s final embrace.

Where her peers seek to instil sonic dread and despair, Rundle veers towards brighter and, dare we say, more hopeful territories on her eagerly anticipated fourth album. It’s not so much about sinking into a deep watery abyss as it is striving to reach the surface and seizing that vital gasp of air in a state of delirium.

That’s not to say that ‘On Dark Horses’ sets off on a pleasant canter by any means; ‘Fever Dreams’ convulses with off-kilter snare hits akin to the experimental stylings of Rundle’s criminally-underrated band Marriages, before giving way to a chorus that basks in the light of a silver lining. The sombre tones of ‘Control’, in tandem with Rundle’s dulcet drawl, swoon with an intoxicating aura, flitting effortlessly between delicate reverberate guitars and enveloping waves of distortion, while the semi-eponymous ‘Darkhorse’ builds momentum with a thunderous intensity.

The broken-legged toy horse which adorns the record’s cover art serves as a harrowing yet graceful metaphor for ‘On Dark Horses’ and its composer, who herself says that the namesake creatures represent “a contained force that will win the race or exceed the expectation of society and self”. By the time you reach the delightfully dark duet between Rundle and her partner-and-bandmate Evan Patterson on ‘Light Song’ and the poignant farewell of ‘You Don’t Have To Cry’, you feel like you’ve finally reached the end of a bleak and painstaking period of introspection, ready to embrace better days with arms and mind wide open.

Staking a claim for her strongest solo release to date, Emma Ruth Rundle is fast becoming one of her generation’s finest purveyors of outsider art. ‘On Dark Horses’ enchants from its first rotation, but as with any great challenging record, give it your time and patience and it will reveal the full depth of its raw and staggering beauty.

DANNY RANDON

Already taking on support slots in stadiums and daytime sets on festival main stages as if they’re headlining the joint, the Ontario trio have an unquenchable thirst for firing out riff after riff after motherfuckin’ riff. Throughout ‘Master Volume’, the mischievous older brother of 2016 debut ‘Higher Power’, they downright abuse their power to create earworm anthems with a dark sense of humour.

From the opening one-two punch of ‘That’s What Heaven Feels Like’ into ’Bathed In Light’, singer/guitarist Luke Bentham channels his morbid fascinations of ‘rolling through the windshield’ to rub shoulders with Jesus, Elvis and his late grandmother into addictive sugar rushes of power-pop.

Bentham is a brilliantly outlandish character, singing with the flamboyance of Cheap Trick’s Robin Zander and the curled lip of The Replacements’ Paul Westerberg, all while stylin’ and profilin’ like the ‘Nature Boy’ Ric Flair. His comrades in drummer Kyle Fisher and bassist Ross Miller thrash along with a similar attitude on ‘Please, Please Me’ – not a Beatles cover, but a brass-spattered punk rock rager inspired by the band’s tour with hardcore survivalists Flag – and ‘Smoking Is Magic’.

The Dirty Nil may have tightened the screws on their sun and Miller Lite-soaked jams on their sophomore full-length, but they’ve not watered down the piss and vinegar by any measure. It’s an album that takes left turns with the more mid-paced ‘Auf Wiedersehen’ and ‘Evil Side’, but hits the gas with dangerous energy and youthful abandon.

Say what you will, Gene Simmons: The Dirty Nil are the bubblegum-chewing, whiskey-swigging, pot-smoking saviours of rock ‘n’ roll. Strap yourselves in and crank up ‘Master Volume’, because there ain’t nothing wrong with a good time.

‘Landslide’ is galaxies beyond the bolt-ons of half-hearted acoustic rehashes and remixes we’ve come to expect from studio efforts of its ilk. Elaborating on front man Andrew Groves’ inspiration from the likes of James Blake, Björk and Four Tet, it takes three cuts from Arcane Roots’ phenomenal sophomore album, 2017’s ‘Melancholia Hymns’, and gives them a new lease on life as vast soundscapes of ambient electronica.

‘Before Me’ – which is suffixed with the parenthesis ‘(Over)’ on this EP – is taken to new levels of cosmic majesty, especially with the added harmonies of London singer-songwriter Emily Denton. The haunting final refrain of ‘Don’t you think it’s already over?’ lodges itself in the mind as ‘Matter (Revel)’ makes an even grander entrance with sweeping synths and Groves’ wall-of-sound vocals.

The titular track builds from dystopian atmospherics to a ferociously heavy climax, but in the confines of this EP, feels more like a Melancholia Hymns b-side. The eight-minute conclusion of ‘Off The Floor (Fade)’, however, brings matters to a surprisingly pacy head with ticking percussion and technicolour charm. It just goes to show that the three-piece are adamant to burn out brighter than ever before, rather than fizzle away.

Even when you strip away the mind-bending hooks and explosive passages that we’ve come to love this band for, these tracks have lost none of the power or poignancy. Whatever happens from here, Arcane Roots can soar off into the ether gracefully, and safe in the knowledge that they’re doing so on a landslide victory.

Fresh from revealing that their long-awaited debut album ‘The Goat’ will get 2019 off to a ferocious start, Puppy have finally been let off the leash for their debut headline jolly around the UK. It’s about time too for the London trio, since their melding of melody and macabre has made them one of the most intriguing British breakthroughs of recent years.

When it comes to spinkicking the show into motion, Grove Street Families don’t have to worry one bit about proving their worth on hometown turf. It’s been one whole year since the Southampton mob have unleashed crossover carnage on their own patch, but in the time they’ve been away their stomp has become harder and the shred of their guitars leaner.

From the moment they march on stage to the Terminator theme tune and bust out the gargantuan opening riff of ‘Entombed’, Puppy are like the sonic equivalent of staring into the Ark of the Covenant. The dynamic duo of Will Michael and Billy Howard bring the tar-thick low end complete with bells, whistles, fills and indeed thrills while front man Jock Norton, who happens to be celebrating his 29th year on this mortal coil tonight, is on inspired form. The singer/guitarist hits peak mystique with his Billy Corgan-meets-Papa Emeritus falsetto, all while peeling off licks that are spicier than Ainsley Harriott’s shirt collection.

Hot-off-the-press single ‘Black Hole’, along with a couple more teasers of ‘The Goat’, already stand hoof-to-hoof with fan favourites ‘The Great Beyond’ and ‘Arabella’. However, it’s the final chug of ‘Demons’ that draws the night to an all-too-early close with a surge of sinister energy.

With a headline tour finally under their belts, it won’t be a case of ‘always the bridesmaid…’ for these raisers of merry hell. Forget the pig – 2019 will be the Year of the Puppy.

The latest musician to step from pits to pop is Ethan Murphy who, as the former bassist of Florida bruisers Blistered, has paired up with long-time Amber Lewis for Planet Loser – a neon-tinted project which couldn’t be further from his guttural beatdowns of old.

Murphy’s musical lineage lends itself – even if it is ever so slightly – to the occasional flashes of urgency on Planet Loser’s introductory release, whether it’s the thumping beat of ‘Floating Through You’ or the punkier Cure-esque bop of ‘Warmth’.

With one foot planted firmly in an adoration for the ’80s, this EP harks back to the glory days of the Brat Pack, and an era where ‘new wave’ was actually something new. However, its other foot steers clear of pastiche, and there’s something refreshingly contemporary about the lucid guitar-synth combos and Lewis’ reverberate vocals which take front and centre throughout.

Showing plenty of potential in these first five tracks, Planet Loser venture into a swathe of lush alt-pop vibes, but they do it with enough backbone to keep you on your toes.

DANNY RANDON

It’s with this reputation that they come roaring out of the traps with Contempt for Man. Save for the brief squeal of feedback that sees in album opener Värdelös (which translates
lovingly as ‘useless’), it is a 32-minute barrage of wall-to-wall blastbeats and skin-flaying dual vocal assaults.

There’s less moments of innovation to be admired here when held up against Coldworker’s back catalogue, but Contempt for Man is hardly a knuckle-dragging slump backwards to meat-and-potatoes grindcore: on Lockdown there are sinister flashes of homegrown death metal, and Crush the Empire (one of only two tracks on this album to surpass the two-minute mark) is more mid-paced but no less brutalising.

Axis of Despair aren’t reinventing the wheel here – they are simply fitting the wheel with Ben Hur-esque chariot spikes before sending it hurtling towards your face at 200mph. It’s probably the last record of 2018 that you’ll want to play to your nan, but for the merciless purpose it serves, Contempt for Man leaves little for you to despair over.

DANNY RANDON