Our well-timed (or so we thought) fashionably late entrance fails. Hoping to miss the supporting acts, Affie and I walk smack bang into the noise of The Stands. Frankly, they sound like any other indie band, unworthy of much mention.

Fifteen minutes after their scheduled on-stage arrival, Jet appear looking unusually clean cut.  Frontman Nic Cester is on fine form, often peppering his remarks to the crowd, “Jesus fucking Christ - make some noise!  How the fuck are you?” And you thought Americans swore a lot.

Almost immediately, I realise I have unwillingly walked into a mosh pit of drunkenness. What kind of douchebag moshes to Jet?  Drunken revelry from the crowd leads to no less than four showers of beer (in my eyes too) and my right leg covered in bruises.

Unfortunately, the crowd’s rowdy behaviour puts a damper on the gig. I am barely able to catch glimpses of guitarist Cam Muncey, who is currently sporting a Caleb Followill-esque hair monstrosity, Nic’s brother Chris is all but hidden behind his drum kit, and the only way I could tell Mark Wilson was on stage is from the strong bass-line throbbing around the club. 

The guys sound fucking incredible live, and really tear up my personal favourites, 'Rollover DJ', 'Cold-Heart Bitch', 'Last Chance' and 'Are You Gonna Be My Girl'.  I think the boys leave many ladies in the audience wishing they were a Jet girl.

They’ll soon be on my side of the Atlantic, and I definitely want to see them again.  Being covered in bruises and beer is a small price to pay for an evening of incredible live music.
(4/5)

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Photos: Afsheen Shaikh