Seventh heaven

MOGWAI, 2ND APRIL 2006, CARDIFF COAL EXCHANGE

Another Cardiff gig, another new venue - this time the Coal Exchange. Situated somewhere down near the Bay (I wasn't paying much attention, just following someone else's lead), it is - as the name would suggest - the city's former coal exchange, and apparently the building in which the world's first ever million pound cheque was signed. It's easily the most impressive venue I've ventured to so far - a high-level balcony (not in use this evening), a huge fireplace in the entrance hall, wood panelling everywhere.

The fact that the amps on stage are adorned with Scotland flags can mean only one thing: Mogwai are in town, and we're in for a serious aural workout.

The Glaswegian noisemongers take to the stage, swelled from five to six with the addition of a touring keyboard player. All but Barry Burns are wearing bright green tracksuit tops, which - mercifully - are abandoned early in the set owing to the heat.

This is the seventh time I've seen arguably the most influential band in Britain, and certainly it's reassuringly familiar - bassist Dominic Aitchison is bearded, drummer Martin Bulloch peeks out from under a woollen hat, and diminutive frontman Stuart Braithwaite is also his usual self, a man of few words but curious bobbing motion when the songs reach towards climax.

The gently rising strumming that cuts through the crowd chatter? That'd be 'Mogwai Fear Satan', then. Shorn of its flute part, it's also curtailed but as such prepares the ground perfectly. Recent single 'Friend Of The Night' follows, then 'Killing All The Flies' and 'Folk Death '95'. It's all good, but it's just not quite taking off. 'Acid Food', probably the weakest track on new LP Mr Beast, and 'Travel Is Dangerous', which sees Barry Burns singing clearly rather than through an effects box, fail to change things. Almost there, but not quite.

But 'Hunted By A Freak', the gorgeous opener from 2003's Happy Music For Happy People, marks a significant shift in gear and suddenly we're in a different place. 'Summer' is its usual transcendent self, raw power and grace married to perfection, while '2 Rights Make 1 Wrong' is reworked in line with the tone of Mr Beast - in other words, the banjo and choir are dropped in favour of an excess of violently throbbing electronic bass that has the floor shaking, trousers flapping and sphincters loosening (as my companion remarks, "If I'd had a curry last night, it would be game over"...).

And then, either side of the brief break between main set and encore, we're treated to some of the heaviest and loudest riffs Black Sabbath never wrote. 'Glasgow Mega Snake' sets ears bleeding, and 'Ratts Of The Capital', even after three or four minutes when they're off stage, does nothing to staunch the flow. The set ends in the same way as Mr Beast, with 'We're No Here''s six minutes of absolute power.

Four members then leave the stage not to return, but Braithwaite and guitarist John Cummings aren't finished, instead conjuring up a fearsome racket of feedback and what sounds like a chopped-up and robotically repeated AC/DC riff accompanied by an ever-varying array of coloured strobe lights. I think it was Michael Gira of Swans who once said he wanted to play so loudly that it made people sick. Well, that certainly seems to be Mogwai's objective. We're a hardy crowd, though, and most of us stick with it, putting ourselves through the punishing closing stages of the evening in the knowledge that the inevitable tinnitus will be extreme.

And, sure enough, in the toilets afterwards, when one gig-goer announces "Best gig of the year!", another replies: "WHAT?!!". The first - if I heard him right - had a point, mind.