7:21pm. A well-meaning front blows in; pressure generally depressed. Openers 'Turning 13' aim for a Fugazi slink but don't have the mean drama that sort of thing demands; the sub-Weezer vocals particularly let them down. When their unassuming guitarist fills in the regular tuning intervals in the manner of a very embarrassed Sonic Youth, we note something else; they're local bairns, but they bear no hint of any culture underneath the breathy Billy Corgan vox and workaday dual-guitars. Praise them faintly: not disagreeable. 8:10pm. Prospects changeable; chances of hail are good. "It's impossible to look up while playing a Telecaster, see." notes a friend of followups 'This Familiar Smile'. The cultural abnegation goes on: these stalwart Glaswegians throw more American/Nowhere disjointy post-hardcore at us. They are At The Drive-In without the psychosis which was the most compelling thing about that lot. The high, high but non-falsetto vox ow...