The singer on stage is surrounded by colours. Fractals, swirls, dashes of colour and lights. Only thats' not what is behind him, in reality. In reality, its the "Kerrang!" logo. On the video screens, it looks like we've just taken a trip on the hippy bus to 1969, via the horrendous video swooshes of Snub TV in the late 80's. ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the indie dance rock time machine, and tonight we give you... Reverend and The Makers.

Halfway through Reverend And The Makers,I get the feeling I've seen them before. There's a nagging sense of familarity, and whilst it may be new and exciting somehow, this brand of squelchy, metronomic indie dance dub funk seemed oddly out of step back in 1993, let alone 16 years later. The guy singing - the self proclaimed "Reverend" - seems to think he's leading a troupe along the lines of Alabama 3, but instead, there's a disparate bunch of indie losers on stage, lurching from one lazy funk lollop to next whilst he regales us into getting down, moving with it, and fighting the man.

Instead he's regaling me into inaction and apathy.

With a set comprised not so much of songs as grooves and selection of BPM's, its suddenly strikes me that in fact, Gary Clail is back, and there's something wrong with human nature.... its liking this lazy tosh. The girl on keyboards dances out of step and out of time, the band is an On U Sound dub soundsystem with no dub, soul, or rhythm, and the singer ...well, he doesn't sing so much as heckle us.

Back in 1993, this lot would have disappeared into obscurity. Devoid of personality or soul, Its the posturing of Alabama 3, the politicalisation of Marxman, the poetry of a crisp packet. Thing is, back in 1993, they would have done one gig at the islington new Cross venue supporting Back To The Planet, realised how rubbish they were, and gone back on the dole.

Now, their debut enters the chart at number five album, and people pretend Back To The Planet ever existed. Which is a shame, because Back To the Planet's particularly own brand of political indie-dub punk is exactly what Reverend And the Makers are now passing off as their own, only with some guy seemingly on exile from the Artic Monkeys shouting at us, minus the originality or talent.

Like I said, Its the worst part of the early nineties, and Gary Clail has been resurrected. Neither original, nor insightful, Reverend And The Makers churn out their own dullard indie dance dub, locked in a groove. God, I wouldn't cross the road to watch this lot again. On the basis of tonight, I have to ask - would I buy the album? No. Its Not even worth shoplifting.

Athlete, on the other hand, sparkle and shine by comparison. Four albums in, Ivor Novello award winning, Athelete are the Coldplay its ok to like. And they don't charge £60 a ticket, neither.

Epic, sparkling, shinging stadium filling compositions, just in search of a stadium to fill. Anthemic choruses [ or is it Chori? I never was sure] fill the air. Atmosphetic.Sweeping. Sharp, guitars chime in on a twinkle of keyboards and bass. The difference between this and the support act is like the difference between clean sheets in a five star hotel, and a quick fumble in an alley way. Reverend and The Makers rough and charmless void quickly evaporates, replaced by the slick, stadium filling sheen.

In a set comprised of material from all their years, from early single "El Salvador" - which starts like "Yellow" by Coldplay, but then branches off into other territory - to new songs from their months old album "Black Swan", Athlete play to a raptourous audience. Reverend And The makers had the grooves, but Athelete have songs. Lots of them. Songs like "Hurricane" and "Half light". And they've got structure. And build. Its not just head down, same tempo, same speed, same chords, rush to the end ina groove. Its got subtlety too.

From the glacial beginnings to the lighter waving choruses, there's single after single, and a couple of newies too. Played with passion, and huge choruses, its the award winning, big hit of "Wires" that makes people react. And to follow that with "24 Hours" and closing with a new song, "The Getaway" means that even people unfamiliar with their songs may well venture down the aisle in Tescos to buy the CD. Which when a band is as good as this, managing to impress is everything.

They may never capture the eye of the NME as Coldplay once did - after all, none of this lot is married to Gwyneth Paltrow - but they are just as good. A lot of pop music is being in the right place at the right time, and lightning may never strikes twice...but dammit, its as good as that.

Athlete - a damn fine band, tight, professional and impressive. It makes you wonder why they aren't bigger. Because dammit, they deserve to be. if they are this good outdoors for free, how good might they be in a room of fans? Compared to dreck like Reverend And The Makers, sometimes it makes you wonder just how many times the lesser defeats the better....and somewhere out there, Chris Martin is taking notes, wishing his band was as good as this.

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