Melvins @ SWG3, Glasgow, 11 Oct

The crowd's a little thin tonight at SWG3, but those who did feel the urge to head out on a wet, nothing Wednesday night, are undoubtedly rewarded. First, with a searing set from LA punk legends, Redd Kross. Fronted by the brothers McDonald – Jeff on lead vocals/guitar; Steve, card-carrying Melvin, also of Cali punks Off!, on bass – the band high-kick, shake, groove and pummel the hell out of the stage with pure, glam rock swagger like it's a Kiss concert in '77. It's a blast of buzzsaw guitars, flailing limbs and wide-eyed gurns, with the addition of Melvins drummer Dale Crover at the back adding extra depth and power to their attack, leaving you uncertain at times whether or not to keep dancing or start checking the concrete floor for cracks.

The bar is set then for Melvins, who announce their arrival in a festering squall of swampy distortion, which soon erupts into a pulverising cover of Flipper's Sacrifice. Slow, crushing and mesmerising, the cynical sons of the Pacific Northwest start as they mean to go on. While Crover and Steve McDonald are all warmed up on account of their double shifts tonight, vocalist/guitarist Roger "Buzz" Osborne, aka King Buzzo, comes straight out of the gate with equal force, looking like some acid-fried, time-travelling cult leader in full ceremonial robe, scarf, and manic, bulging eyes. His voice reverberates around the warehouse's cavernous walls like the remnants of some overheard demonic sermon, while the band tear through a fairly mixed bag of tricks from the vault with slick confidence and incredible volume.

Despite touring on the back of new album, A Walk With Love & Death, only a small handful of songs make the cut tonight; however, the likes of Euthanasia and Edgar the Elephant stand up well alongside older tracks such as Oven, Queen and Anaconda. Their savagely heavy cover of The Beatles' I Want To Hold Your Hand, meanwhile, is simultaneously both a brutal deconstruction and a sly, clattering salute. It's got the band's wry, knowing humour written right through it, yet it also feels genuinely affectionate, which is hardly surprising given that under all the 'doom', 'stoner', 'sludge' and other labels thrown at them like poison confetti, they're really just a kick ass rock'n'roll band.

Steve McDonald certainly lives up to that idea tonight, even if he is the new guy; high-kicking, screaming and howling at every opportunity while Buzzo and Crover convulse and thrash like they're being struck by intense and groovy lightning. Clocking in at just over one-and-a-quarter hours, it's a brisk trip into the belly of the beast, but one that will rattle round the heads of the faithful few here tonight for days to come.