Art Brut are a band familiar to the Wax Music Crew for their role in the New-X revival, with their journey to possible stardom partly thanks to their strong links to the much hyped 'Angular Records' and everyone's favourite venue the Paradise Bar (RIP). Tonight though, Art Brut are here, North of the river and as first band on, a decent sized crowd has already formed. As they break into the instrumental 'Subliminal Desire for Adventure', the crowd are given a chance to hear Art Brut's suitably tight production and a small mosh has kicked in by the time lead singer Eddie Argos swings into action with his king-of-geeks live persona. Rants about ex-girlfriends (on the excellent new single 'Emily Caine') and little brothers (on 'My Little Brother', believe it or not) have the curious giggling to themselves and before long the whole venue warms to Eddie's monotone monologue as the band thrash away at a superb-sounding backing track. It would be quite hard to explain why Art Brut are great, as the concept seems pretentious in theory, but in reality, the Art Brut live show is one not to be missed. Just be warned that Art Brut live may contain Argos's bare chest and some Steve Coogan-esque pogo-ing. 

Up next were Staines finest, Hard-Fi, who have recently enjoyed chart success with the radio friendly 'Cash Machine'. With mixed expectations, we retuned from the bar to a now half empty Lock 17 for a bit of mod-ska-retro-BenShermanwearing-indie-pop. After an average start to the set, we could feel ourselves warming to Hard-Fi and were particularly mesmerised by the vacant stare of frontman Richard Archer. His vocals were note perfect and his occasional interludes playing some strange tiny keyboard that you blow into were surreal but welcome. And when 'Cash Machine' kicked in, we all remembered why we were here. From the point on, the tunes were all stompers and the forthcoming 'Tied Up Too Tight' should be an indie classic with its brit-pop "la la lalla la" chorus. The set finished with 'Living For the Weekend' which sounded great with its house-music stab sounds - more indie bands should finish their sets with an Ibiza anthem, its the way forward.

Now I know this was supposed to be a crawl, but fate had made it so that we only had time to visit two venues before the bands leave and the DJ's take over. And so we commenced the long walk from the Lock, along the highstreet (via BK, mmm the Western Whopper is so tasty...), up to the Camden Palace, okay, KOKO, for this evenings finale. Unlike previous Camden crawls, this time the organisers have decided to lay on a few special headline acts and leave us with the dilemma of which to choose. The Wedding Present Vs The Buzzcocks Vs Goldie Looking Chain. A diverse dillema but one that left us with a photo-finish decision and a controversial choice. You knows it.. we're gonna get down with the GLC. Safe as fuck.

Up first though are the Magic Numbers who manage to bring the atmosphere down to a half conscious whimper. Okay, I'm sure if I listen to some of their stuff at a later date, I will be astounded by its beauty, but Jesus, their songs seemed to go on forever! And we were in KOKO, mecca of indie disco's and all things dance - not a band that looked like the Mamas & Pappas but failed to get the club going with anything as uplifting as 'California Dreaming'. I know I'll probably end up eating my own words about this band, but The Magic numbers bored the pants off me. What I want is a load of Welsh lads who are probably straight outa drama school, pretending to be council estate chavs and rapping over a backing track of hip-hop pastiches. And as if my magic, the GLC emerged in full Matalan attire, swinging their Lizzy Duke neckware and telling us all to smoke weed. Oh, okay then.

Whether you think Goldie Lookin Chain are as impressive as the emperors new clothes or you're a GLC devotee, it would be hard not be doubled up in hysterics at their live performances. There is nothing funnier that a group of Welsh lads in shell suits, dancing around as if they were New Kids On The Block and rapping like robots. its a winning formula, I'm telling you, I could not stop laughing. And then I noticed how good the production sounded and behind the irony of it all, they are great performers -even if their live set-up consists of nothing more that a DAT player and a 'Safe As Fuck' banner. All the choons were in there -  from '21 Ounces' to 'Guns Dont Kill...', there one album back cat really did feel like a Greatest Hits set. And in the classy fashion you'd expect from the GLC, the set finished with the playground diss that is 'Your Mothers Got A Penis'. Good work lads.