First it was Abba meeting The Clash in an underground car park. Then it was Kraftwerk having a series of power breakfasts with Radiohead. After that, it was Neil Young sharing a jazz Woodbine with Pink Floyd. Finally, it was Chicory Tip sleeping with every darned garage band in town. Clearly, Grandaddy has classic reference points in the pop, rock and Americana field, using them in a virtually symphonic way, seamlessly blending one into the other.

Like Kraftwerk, Pink Floyd and Radiohead before, Grandaddy - from rustic Modesto, California, where the harvest moon shines unsettingly bright - places crucial importance on the interface between technology and humanism. Songs such as He's Simple, He's Dumb, He's The Pilot, Crystal Lake, Miner At The Dial-A- View and So You'll Aim Toward The Sky (all from the band's latest superb album, The Sophtware Slump) view modern, 2000 man as someone who is on the cusp of disaster. Dark, disturbing and downright moody, the music is multi-textured but grounded.

With a complete lack of pretension, Jason Lyttle and his band of tourist-like bearded colleagues managed to present a show that is simultaneously fascinating, exciting and eerily atmospheric. Even the between-song soundtrack (classical, film music) underscored the band's challenging but ultimately triumphant music. And as if to emphasise the hi-tech/organic parallel, Jason Lyttle had a tree wig attached to his guitar. Case closed.