Gurus Joshed

This was the first time we'd ever seen Stornoway, now comfortably Oxford's best band. My, how they've grown. The venue and the other two acts are long gone, by the way, just in case you were getting excited about things growing to fruition and bursting forth with dribbly creative juices all around Oxford...

THE SWAMIS/ LOS DIABLOS/ STORNOWAY, The X, 4/06

If "unassuming" to you means "tedious and forgettable", skip a paragraph now. Go on, there's plenty for you later. The rest of us can discuss Stornoway, who are quiet, likable, and unabloodyssuming enough to make Belle & Sebastian look like Count Grishnackh, proffering AOR melodicism and Snow Patrol-style vocals that just skirt nasally whining to arrive at disarmingly lovely. Unsurprisingly they're sometimes overly polite, especially in nods towards castrated reggae rhythms, but high points delight, such as a tune allegedly written in a boulangerie that sounds like a fascinating cross between 10cc and The Proclaimers. They could do with letting go a bit, and dropping the worst jazz break ever, but Stornoway are exploring some interesting corners of the overstuffed acoustic rock foyer.

With Mark "Evenings" Wilden on drums and brother James on guitar, Los Diablos' sound is straightforward, but the material's certainly unpredictable. Mixing irreverent covers with originals and a hefty dash of VIth form revue silliness mreans they'll be anathema to many, but if you like a bit of harmless cabaret, this duo delivers the goods. Highlights bookend the set, with a helium thrash through "Wuthering Heights" and Jacques Brel's "The Girls & The Dogs". The ambience may be more Roy Walker than Scott Walker, but the playing is neat, showing sides to Mark's vocals hidden in The Evenings' maelstrom. Perhaps they're selling their songs short with this jocular presentation, but considering one of those songs is a Barenaked Ladies romp about a Chevy Chase lookalike, they probably don't care.

Clever billing for rock trio The Swamis, who sound absolutely enormous after these acoustic prologues. And fair play, too, because they're as tight and powerful as you could wish, powering down a mid-80s rock furrow with much dexterity. If you liked it you could " buy a CD from the man in the Led Zep T-shirt", whihc pretty much sums up The Swamis. They clearly inhabit a cosy world where nothing changes much, where mates dance like drunken uncles at a wedding, heads are nodded at provincial bars and "rock" is spelt with an A and a W. Good word for Scrabble.