Today at Kilburn's beloved Luminaire, we see the most concentrated twee presence since Sarah Records lured a load of gingerbread men into their candy-walled office within the sweet, sweet sickly city of Tweeville and managed to coax Teenage Fanclub into being a lounge band for their reception. Horowitz are the first thing we see today, and they're alright I suppose. A few ideas nicked from Pavement, a manageable amount of feyness and the odd sheepish wave to the crowd ensures them a few whoops and one slightly premature "more!". Ah well. Downstairs for a drink. We miss Shrag, who sound like they'd be quite good, but y'know, we're parched. Soz.

Instead, we're back in time for a knackered Bearsuit who don't have time to soundcheck. They're exceedingly popular with the indie-pop audience, though one wonders whether they should be. Their product is much more intricate, less melodic (nowadays, anyway) and more brutally self-aware than anyone here this evening. Theirs is a sound born of borderline psychosis, not the hacking out of a curvy melody. The assembled throng dance like dicks to 'Hey Charlie Hey Chuck' happily enough, though.

And then, we are treated to the triumphant return of Ballboy. After releasing some near-classic records a few years back documenting the diseased existence of Scotland's lower classes, it seems like they've been away for a little bit too long. Triumphant their songs may be, but they are among the most formulaic in independent music. Gordon McIntyre's lyrics are the full focus and still rather entertaining, but the best results come when the music is the match of it. The undoubted highlight is the smashing disco stomp of 'Where Do The Nights Of Sleep Go To When They Do Not Come To Me', utterly pulsating and joyful in its giddily romantic monologues. You may not know what exactly McIntyre is gleefully regaling, but you know it's true.

A slightly squib-like final rendition of 'Donald In The Bushes With a Bag Of Glue' (try saying it in any other accent than Scots and you'll burst into flames) is both Ballboy's blessing and their curse – fantastically anthemic, but just as fantastically anthemic as everything else played this evening. That’s nice and all, but it's a little wearing. Still, it's great to hear such undiluted romance and intensity back at the forefront of Scottish independent music once again. The new stuff isn't all that different, but at least it grabs your heart. On the strength of tonight they won't have lost any fans, but they should be wary of pummelling them too much with the glory of yore.