Punk Forever, the travelling punk rock art exhibition collected and exhibited by Gerrion Jones, took residency at Ebbw Vale's reopened and rejuvenated Institute for ten days in February with a host of live performances scattered amongst the timeless pieces of art from the likes of Jamie Reid, Billy Childish, James Cauty and Jones himself. The closing night of the event seemed to be the time to enter the fray with the promise of an excellent five band bill.

Young Welsh punks The Dolts kick things off and, as raw as they are, you have to feel encouraged, and yourself offer yet more encouragement, towards young kids deciding to walk this path. They throw a couple of choice Anti-Flag and Rise Against covers into their set of promising originals, of which 'Selling Sex To Kids' is the standout. When one of the band's guitar breaks veers perilously close to 'Breaking The Law' I just know that Uber Rock's Darrel Sutton will seek me out with Priest on his mind - he doesn't disappoint.

Over the past few months I have seen Guntys more than I have seen members of my own family. Tonight they are minus their accordion player and thereby less obviously on a Celtic tip. Whether it be the fact that they are stripped down to the basic three piece or because of the company that they find themselves in tonight, they seem noisier, maybe a little hungrier, and the new songs that they perform, eschewing the in-jokes of their standards, really stand out. More of the same may be needed if they really want to spread further afield, guntifying the nation as they go.

I'm still asking anyone who will listen if they know anything about OXP, the next band on the bill, when the French three-piece take to the stage and tear it a new one. Within around thirty seconds of them kicking out the jams I have a Roger Moore-esque eyebrow raised, a minute later and it's a full-on jaw dropped to the floor. Their brand of no-nonsense garage rock throws up an immediate Danko Jones comparison but with a definite experimental bent and almost everyone in attendance is simply floored by this totally unexpected rough diamond that got added to the show at late notice and now threatens to steal it. I say almost everyone because one old school punk can't tell the band how shit they are enough, obviously displeased that this band who look and sound like nothing else on the bill don't conform to his idea of how a band should look and sound - how individual. Music fans in attendance realise that they have witnessed something special from a band that you will definitely be hearing more about.

This System Kills frontman Pig may be extolling his acute drunkenness from the stage between songs but, in whatever state you manage to hear this stalwart of the Valleys punk scene in, he always manages to inspire with his proactive stance and mantras, with tonight's between song patter being especially poignant given the venue and the familiar faces scattered amongst the clientele who, no matter their current circumstance, are forever connected with the local scene. But all this would be somewhat hollow if it wasn't fitted between some excellent songs. Opener 'Under Banners', 'In Credit Or Crisis', 'If The Cap Fits' and, I guess we can call this their anthem, 'Red Brick' are seriously great tunes and, again, with a stand-in drummer alongside bassist Newt and deceptively handsome guitarist Craig, the band don't disappoint.

If you've read his blogs on this fair site you'll know what happens when Bad Sam frontman Beddis returns to his old stomping ground. Tonight, he appears to be in a particularly feisty place and, perhaps unsurprisingly, opener 'Greed Pandemic' is ferocious. 'Dicks With Dogs', usually guaranteed to slap a grin about your features, is brutal. Spitting out 'Cliff', 'Christ Betrayed', 'Valium' and 'Gold Tops', Beddis prowls the floor in front of the stage in a manner that, if you don't know just how much of a great fella he is, will scare you to death. Or at least the shit out of you. 'Newport Hotel' and the classic 'I Love The 'Port' may be odes to his adopted home but, as he tells the punters, a mixture of the impressed and the nervous by now, they owe much to the Valleys towns where he and his peers first discovered the glorious noise that forever changed them. Head bloodied from a trademark mic to the skull, he leads the band through final song 'Cocaine Me' before collecting the various items of clothing he has lost or discarded throughout the set.

Punk forever? Guess......