The album undoubtedly put the foursome on the map, not only for that Kate Bush cover but because here was a belter of a guitar album sung in a very distinctive North Easterly twang - the likes of which hadn't really been done before, paving the way for the likes of Maximo Park. There's no wonder the album is still held in very high regard with those that were there the first time around, and as tonight proved some new fans too, who must have been (somewhat depressingly for those of us in the former category) just about starting primary school when it was released. 

It would unfortunately be remiss of us not to mention the irritatingly early stage time - 8pm (a clubnight followed). Not exactly fair for any headliner on a Friday night; but especially disappointing for a boisterous band like The Futureheads, who are best enjoyed when you have rid yourself of the shackles of the working week and optimally at least 2-3 drinks in; confident enough to sing your heart out and air guitar with the best of them. Alas, the band feel it too and excuse us and them for maybe being a bit more reserved than usual. Coupled with the fact they play the album as tracklisted (which meant they lost the inevitable peaks and troughs a set list usually brings) they have their work cut out for them from the get go.

But what they lack in a reasonable stage time and an orchestrated set-list they make up for in their obvious sheer unadulterated pleasure at being back together and playing, with absolutely no signs of fatigue. They rattle through the 15-song strong album with very little chance to draw breath - with all the gusto, electricity and intensity they exuded at the outset back in 2004. And what's also clear to see is that they haven't lost any of that fellowship - the ribbing and jesting as sharp as ever and a sheer delight to hear given that the art of on-stage chit-chat seems to be dying.

Opening with the frenetic 'Le Garage', we're quickly reminded of their unbridled sonic rigour and how expeditious their sound remains. Fan favourite 'A to B' provides the first avid sing-a-long, a feature that persisted during the anthemic 'Decent Days and Nights'. 'Danger of the Water' provides a bit of respite from the furibund, but gives Barry - who was struggling with a throat infection - little time to relax. The illustrious 'Hounds of Love' seems to have gotten even better with age, and unsurprisingly proves to be a goosebump moment for all. The frenetic 'Man Ray' and its feverish wails of "Touch yourself, touch yourself, touch each other in black and white" give a splendidly abrupt end to proceedings, complete with such furious strumming from Ross that it's a miracle he had any strings left on his guitar.

The Futureheads return to rousing applause and customary foot stomping for a short but sweet encore including the very aptly named 'Good Night Out' from new album Powers. So seamlessly does it fit in with their backcatalogue, it feels like an old favourite. But the biggest outpouring of love and arms in the air is reserved for parting gift 'The Beginning Of The Twist', further testament to the quartet's ability to pen highly infectious rollicking tracks that stand the test of time. In complete honesty it was a tad bothersome that Londoners waited until the conclusion of the night and for a track that wasn't actually part of the intended celebration to properly let loose and give themselves fully to proceedings - nonetheless, it was a joy to see. 

Given this is the first night and the most southerly date of this special tour, we know that they will be greeted with far more suitable stage times and the more unabashed crowds they so rightly deserve the further north they go. The Futureheads were never, and never intended to be, a London band. Their hearts are very firmly in the North East, and to be fully appreciated they should be experienced outside the M25.