There's nothing that makes you feel quite so old as ordering a baked camembert at a night of noisy Portuguese boys singing about how great it is to be young. Gosh, I think, how times have transformed, in one full-time working, early morning late twenties swoop. However, in the space of two hours, almost pre-watershed, everything changes. Before ten, I manage to get drunk off two and a half ciders, flirt the young and possibly slightly intimidated barman into giving me a free drink, snap my bank card, lose a fiver, and chat to the aforementioned Portuguese band about hallucinogenic drugs.

The night begins, pre-camembert (though if this were a food review I'd spend five hundred words on it), with my friend Amy and I entering an empty, empty, noisy, noisy room. We sit at the back, unfortunately centrally visible to whoever is on stage, feeling like weird stalkerish fans (think Mel from Flight of the Conchords). It is only after two songs that we realise we have inadvertently arrived in time for the sound check. WE ARE SO OLD AND UNCOOL WE HAVE GOT TO A GIG EARLY ENOUGH FOR THE REHEARSAL. Once said gig starts however, the room remains empty. Perhaps a lack of publicity, or slightly too high a price for what it is? In fact the £7 entry fee puts off every single person who comes upstairs from the pub to see what the noise is.

But an empty venue by no means reflects the quality of the four bands and artists performing. The evening begins with the awesomely talented Laz Cunliffe, who draws on the rich vocabulary of the great American Blues and plays exceptionally complicated fret guitar. The apparent confidence in her soul-drenched voice and home-grown lyrics is even more surprising when she tells me later that she never wanted to sing, and was only encouraged to by her guitar teacher to accompany her music. The joy she takes in her complex playing is apparent and mirrors a highly personal, almost rehearsal vibe of a stage presence. Next is Jae, singing a mixture of covers and songs about falling in love and of course subsequently having his heart broken by a number of girls with suspiciously easy to rhyme names. I question the truth in his relationship history. Coming third are We Bless This Mess, a joyfully noisy and rambunctious group of boys from Porto. The exuberance they take in playing as a group is lovely to watch, again giving a bit of a dad's garage feel to the night. FYI they are playing in Brighton this evening (19/05/17), go if you fancy a night of loud guitar, lyrics about mum and dad and sporadic bouts of jumping up and down. The night ends with Ash Lewis, again unpolished, young and revelling in their sincere, catchy folky music.

Thank you, you sticky, dark and empty dance floored venue, for reminding me of my young, cheap and much looser former self. I sure have missed her.