LA’s Icarus Line, their chaotic live reputation preceding them, emerge onto the stage in a uniform of black clothes and red ties. This, apparently, is to focus attention on the music and nothing else.

They needn’t have worried. They launch into their first assault with vehemence – two searing guitars, ferocious drums, driving bass and wailing vocals. The audience is rapt – or maybe it’s just shock.

Joe Cardamone’s lyrics are unintelligible, but it doesn’t really matter. The raw feeling and sheer conviction that the ‘singer’s’ voice imparts can’t be misunderstood – here be vitriol, energy and passion. The music complements these sentiments well – a wall of sound with two guitars taunting each other above the animal power of the rhythm section.

The Icarus Line give good show. They also look like they are enjoying themselves immensely. Cardamone leaps onto a table to dispense some up close and personal skulduggery to the moshers at the front, before sending a heckler off with his tail between his legs for daring to request Black Sabbath with an apt “You’d better get a time-machine, dude”.

TIL are on the verge of greatness. See them if you get a chance.