The opening few numbers are pure aggression; switching between thrash, hardcore and oi!, lacking any sense of melody, with angry, growling vocals - think Agnostic Front - and it's just not my thing at all. In order to filter out this brutal aural assault, I amuse myself by wondering whether the singer is as infuriated in everyday life as he sounds on stage (Newsagent: Can I help you, sir? Pellet singer: "RAAAAAGGGHHHHHH! GIMME 20 B&H AND A PINT OF FUCKIN' MILK!"). However, a pleasant surprise crops up later in their set when they play a more pop-orientated tune - not sure if it was a cover or an original but it's pretty damn good. The vocals calm down considerably on this one and it's their best song of the night by the length of Kelvinhaugh Street. They play a few more in a similar vein to the openers before decanting from the stage to see how many ears they made bleed.

Overall, I didn't like the mish-mash of various sub-genres of punk. While it's no bad thing for a band to be able to play across a range of styles, I think that to attract a following they should try a less broadbrush approach; at the moment it just seems like they don't know what they want to sound like. Then again, maybe Pellet don't want to be pigeon-holed so I'll shut my fool mouth now.

Playing at breakneck speed, the Ritalins deliver their brand of summery pop-punk with some vigour. The vocals sound not unlike Dave's from the much-missed Beauty School Dropout. In fact, if you shaved Simon's head, stuck him in a Hawaiian shirt, and made him play kneeling down, you would swear the punk-pop pygmy was back with a new band. They whizz through their first three songs, uplifting the unfortunately sparse audience in the process, before launching into renditions of 'Cretin Hop' and 'Rockaway Beach' so good, even the Ramones themselves would have been proud.

Most of the other material in their set comes from their first studio recording, 'Nobody Gets It Anymore', the stand-out being 'Sick Of You', which sounds suspiciously like Screeching Weasel's 'Dummy Up'. Nothing wrong with that, though, as it's a great song - talent borrows, genius steals, as they say. Should you be fortunate enough to have the Ritalins play in your town, go check 'em out. You won't be sorry.*

*(Providing Simon hasn't been drinking Rusty Nails beforehand, that is - they played in Alloa the following night and managed roughly half a song before a very drunk Si substituted actually playing his guitar for merely waving his hand up and down in front it, missing the strings.)

Frontman Kevin (who's also the bassist) reminds me a little of Joe Queer in his baseball cap and Lucky Strike t-shirt but vocally he's a bit more comparable to Ben Weasel. Aside from providing the buzzsaw sound, rhythm guitarist Jerry also does a passable impression of Craig from South Park (the boy who constantly flips folk off) as, mid-song, he gives Zelda the finger as she tries to take his photograph - cheeky monkey. Drummer Ivo keeps up the frenetic pace as he rattles about his kit like a three-armed Keith Moon, while lead guitarist Marien, who co-writes most of the songs with Kevin, effortlessly crafts the solos as required. Both guitarists also add rather nice backing vocals in a few of the numbers. All this and comedy punk surnames, too; Aper, Hormone, Backbreaker and Nicotine, respectively.

The Apers race through their melodic set-list with attitude, energy and passion, qualities that turn a good punk rock show into a great punk rock show. Particularly impressive were 'Giving Up/Caving In', 'Eyes Wide Open' and, my favourite, 'Little Lost Girl', all from their excellent self-titled 2001 release on Stardumb Records. Unfortunately, only around 30 people bothered to turn up which is ridiculous considering a band such as the chronically insipid Midtown managed to pack out King Tut's earlier this year. Hopefully it won't be too long before the Apers are back in town and hopefully, next time, it will be in front of a crowd whose size matches their undoubted talent.