It's St Swithun's day in the UK and outside tonights gig it's blowing up a mini monsoon. Thankfully once inside the Barfly the attraction of Toronto's finest punk rockers Fucked Up has turned the venue into something resembling a sauna, so you don't feel out of place looking like a drowned rat, because everyone does. In fact, it's a pretty mixed bunch that Fucked Up manage to bring together here tonight from thrashers to old school punks, students to goth girls, the circus has most certainly come to town.

Managing to totally miss Fecal Vega (sorry guys), the oppressive wall of heat that surrounded the arrival of Japanese Voyeurs gave their brooding mix of Indie and Grunge a sort of headline band vibe.  But with immediate technical problems cutting their set dead after just one song they never really seemed to capitalise on this cosy ambience.  Singer/guitarist Romily Alice may cut a striking supermodel like presence out front but at this time in her career she lacks a confidence in such dead air situations that a more mature front person would have relished.  Of the rest of Japanese Voyeurs set it would probably be best summed up as Katie Jane Garside fronting 'Bleach'-era Nirvana with Roddy Bottum gate crashing the party.  The five piece certainly manage to create a startling yet fragile dynamic with just a hint of melancholy, and as Gaz quite rightly commented when reviewing the band's 'That Love Sound' single they are a million times better than Rolo Tomassi.

Tonight is the first time I have ever seen a barrier in front of the stage in Cardiff's Barfly.  And you cannot help but think that it is probably in place more to keep Fucked Up's mental man mountain of a frontman, Damien Abraham away from the crowd, than it is to keep any of us off the stage. You see Fucked up have that "edge" about them live, the same "edge" as bands like MC5, The Plasmatics and Poison Idea all had, you just never know what will happen at one of their shows, and that is why I, along with everyone crammed in here tonight, loves them.  Kicking off with 'Two Snakes' and  'David's Plan', it's amazing that 1) the six piece actually all fit onto the venues tiny stage and 2) that Damien hasn't already launched himself human bumper car like around the venue.

But that's all about to change as by song three the 'want away' frontman is getting itchy feet and he's now tightrope walking across the barrier (no mean feat for a twenty stone plus hunk of human), and by the time 'Crusades' arrives he's now charging headlong towards me with a plastic cup protruding from his forehead like some special needs rhino.  You see there is no such thing as a front row at a Fucked Up show, as whilst the rest of his band plus away relentlessly on stage Damien brings the band to every single person in the audience.  After this the night all becomes a bit of a blur if I'm honest. with odd songs registering like 'I Hate Summer', 'Crooked Head' 'Police' and 'Son The Father' whilst the whole event whizzes past at a rate of hardcore punk rock knots.

With the crowd baying for more music, the gig ended as only a Fucked Up show could end, with Damien stranded on the dance floor talking about Eighties music (and for that read Econochrist), about being a father, and collecting records, whilst his sweat soaked band mates had long since departed to the dressing room to try and cool down.  It is this humility, openness, and sense of community that makes Fucked Up not just another punk rock band, but one to add to the top of your "bands to see" list if you've not already witnessed them live.

If old wives tales like St Swithun's are to be believed, then you will be thinking it is going to piss down with rain for the next forty days.  If however like us, you believe in only dealing in more factual things then you'll be thinking that Fucked Up will surely be bringing some fine punk rock noise to venues right across Europe throughout the rest of this year.

At least we know one of these will be true. Catch Fucked Up before they catch you.