Sleeper shows are wicked (that’s cool-kid lingo for ‘very good’). You go in expecting not all that much and you come out with the grin of a madman and a revitalised sense of urgency. There’s music out there and you have the ravenous desire to soak up every last note. Tonight’s show is the proverbial exemplary example. On what is an altogether inconsequential Wednesday night this gig stands up and delivers.

The Assault kick starts matters with a ferocious aural assault (pun most definitely intended) of straight up punk rock. It’s fast, grainy repetitive and noisy. Everything you could possibly want out of your local punks. A few hints at the heavier end of the spectrum are reminiscent of the bands roots in The Kindred but it’s mostly west coast style punk rock on show tonight. It also just happens to be the perfect antidote to another mundane weeknight, all frenzied and confrontational.

By comparison Zeropunk seems stale and tense onstage and although the jiggery-pokery of samplers and techno loops means the band has a certain amount of identity it’s hardly a unique sound. Tonight it doesn’t really pass over to what small a crowd has assembled, whilst a somewhat botched cover of 30 Seconds To Mars’ ‘The Kill’ fails to entertain the Bowie-esque visions of grandeur the band alludes to.

There’s zero grandeur about hometown hardcore/punk mob Kids from the K Hole, just brutal, raw energy. From the off vocalist Lloyd is trolling the dance floor (who needs a stage anyway?) attempting to incite a riot. Onstage it’s all abrupt, furious stabs of noise and impact delivered with an immediacy that demands your attention. Find a song longer than 90 seconds here and you win the super-duper-mega-deluxe-bonus prize.

Within a song Rob Lethal, singer with The Smoking Hearts, is stood atop the bar blaring out vocals disguised as shrieks. Bassist Calvin has set up shop in the middle of the pit, or at least where the pit should be. We’ve had the token air-raid siren, dual guitars are hurling out riff after riff, and drummer Sparky is sending seismic tremors around The Horn. Add to this some more climbing, a few piggybacks, a man-mountain of a roadie, the unearthing of a mysterious fold-out table, and even a guitarist-on-guitarist-shoulders moment and you start to grasp the maniacism that comes along with a Smoking Hearts show.

Musically it’s still The Bronx that comes to mind in ‘lazy comparison land’. The band drags a rock ‘n’ roll element that is saturated in heavier punk moments which go on to flirt at the hardcore border. It’s rough, loud and effective, to say the least. For the few in attendance, particularly our new friend ‘One More Time Man’, it’s an impressive performance that doesn’t so much eat up the 30 minute slot as wolf it down before hurling it straight back up in a spit of venom.

It’s a suitable end to an evening and a positive reminder that those low-key shows that don’t necessarily tug for your eardrums initially but somehow manage to sneak up on you always have that potential to send you home on a high. Now, which way to that mine of new music?