CHECK OUT THE PHOTOS FROM THE SHOW HERE.

The lights are up, roadies are hulking equipment off stage and The Enmore has long since spilled its guts onto Newtown’s King Street. Yet the crowd’s “ah ah-ah ah ah ahaaaaa, ah ah ah ahaaaaa” can still be heard five streets away. A swollen mass of people lingering at the theatre’s exit are in two minds; accept defeat or storm the fuck back in there and demand that Kasabian keep playing until their fingers bleed.

You have every right to be sniffy about Kasabian. You can accuse them of being tired Madchester wannabes, of over-indulgence in cock-rock posturing and, for the number of times Tom Meighan bellows “Heellooooo Australia/Sydney blah blah”, a penchant for clichéd audience interaction that would make Spinal Tap blush. It’s all true.

But you can also count on one hand the number of bands that could get the Enmore in such a frenzy that even the traditionally bored merchandising bod is bouncing up and down like a lunatic.

Playing no small part in tonight’s revelry is Melbourne’s Fearless Vampire Killers. I love this band. I love any band that takes a support role, a relatively meagre audience and plays like they’re top billing at Glastonbury. I love the lead guitarist Al Marx. Who wouldn’t? A body built from excessive liquor consumption (actually he might not be of legal drinking age – make that fizzy pop consumption), wantonly squeezed into tight stonewash jeans and a white shirt with pink lapels that’s unbuttoned down to his navel. And boy can he play guitar.

This guy thinks he’s Jimi Hendrix. He’s not, but he might be, one day. In fact the whole band thinks they’re the incarnation of everything that was great about the – œ60s. They’re not quite, but that’s okay. They’re young, and the likes of Alright Now Honey are a fine nod to The Stones’ psychedelic jams. With the addition of an original idea or two this band can look forward to actually being a headliner rather than just acting like one.

Tonight’s top-dogs, however, are the Leicester loving boys from the Midlands. To get one thing clear, lead singer Tom Meighan is one big giant cock. His loins are packed with all the arrogance and swagger of a young Richard Ashcroft. He appropriates that stupid lolling gait that Shaun Ryder got too old for a decade or so ago. He’s bolshy, too fond of telling people to throw their hands in the air and only periodically takes his sunglasses off. And yes, he’s everything a frontman should be.

Don’t believe me? Well take that argument up with the people here who are leaping up and down like spawning salmon. And it’s not just the usual maniacal knot of moshpitters. Stretching to the back of the room, rabid boys and girls are throwing themselves around with glee. Singing along to Shoot the Runner’s glittery glam boot stomp, raising hands aloft to the relentless thump of Where Did All the Love Go? and virtually collapsing in a Beatlesque fervour whenever Meighan so much as glances in their direction.

It’s nigh on impossible to pen snotty invective when a band is this much fun. I tried, I really did. I intended to note that the set-list was drafted with little imagination and a cynical eye on audience manipulation. But when some atmospheric noodling rolls into L.S.F (Lost Souls Forever) and the en mass po-going threatens to send us all into the Enmore’s foundations, well, clearly Kasabian are just doing what any band should do – i.e. playing what people want to hear with all the enthusiasm of a band who are playing it for the very first time. It’s ridiculously infectious and only the most hardened of souls could possibly leave tonight with Club Foot ringing in their ears and a miserable look on their face.

Kasabian may plunder well-worn routines and unashamedly evoke the mannerisms of those that have only just gone before them, but who cares. I believe Meighan when he gushes that the audience has been “fucking amazing” and I believe he really was looking forward to tonight more than any other night in his life (or something like that). It’s not new but it is heartfelt and you can’t ask more of a proper rock and roll band than that.