FINE ... but what are they going to do for material now that they have probably met a few girls from Earth? No more afternoons in the bed room spent in spellbound reflection on the wonders of blouses and summer dresses. No more masturbational fantasies about nameless, faceless women who creep up on you while you are on the edge of sleep. Very soon now all that will simply sound perverse.

People, this reviewer included, have been reasonably happy to accept Ash as what approaches, by music industry standards, a force of nature. They might be the ultimate boy band. Devoid of irony and camp, they are boyish in a manner which Take That could not possibly achieve.

Working with awkward charm rather than polished camp appeal, Ash create a messy, hard guitar pop which celebrates nothing in particular with a frenzy last seen during The Undertones finest minutes.

Minutes, however, may be the lifespan of Ash if they do not grow slightly more ambitious about their sound. Certainly, the sweaty audience, bouncing politely beneath the "No Moshing or Crowd Surfing" notices, did not seem to be crying out for finesse of any kind. Nevertheless, it is impossible to imagine that Ash can soar forever lifted only by energy and simplicity. Back to basics, whether in education or rock n roll, is an inescapably reactionary battle cry.

When they move away from the familiar patterns of sure fire favourites, such as Oh Yeah (which already sounds a little contrived), they quickly lose their way. A prolonged, stormy passage of guitar feedback and strobe leaves the crowd looking bewildered, while when they begin messing with the effects box the band sound innocent - for once in the worst sense of the word.