Sleaford Mods @ Barrowlands, Glasgow, 27 Oct

The iconic Barrowlands has an aura all its own, but between the variety of ages and appearances tonight, the noise experiments of Russell Haswell, and the surf-indie crooning (flecked with Stone Roses-esque bass) of Hairband, it's difficult to pin down exactly what the vibe is. Taking the stage to the fabulous 80s dancefloor anthem Smalltown Boy by Bronski Beat doesn't make things any clearer. However, after Flipside, Subtraction and an absolutely huge Stick In a Five and Go, with hundreds of eager pogoing Sleaford Mods fans (some shirtless) and an onstage energy so raw it's palpable, the mood is set: pure, visceral thrill.

While Andrew Fearn does his thing at the edge of proceedings (pressing play, drinking beer, headbanging), Jason Williamson makes the expansive Barras stage his own: skanking about, taking the mic stand for a walk, playing it like a bass, or pouring forth a stream of vitriolic bile like it's the only thing that comes natural to him. He's an absolute phenomenon, you can't take your eyes off him – his sweaty Jagger moves, unelasticated joggers and all.

All five songs from the new EP are played and, though none live up to the manic joy of Stick In a Five and Go, they all fit nicely into the group's oeuvre. The main set is littered with bangers elsewhere, with big singalongs for T.C.R. and B.H.S., while Williamson is even heavier than usual on the adlibs, peppering every spare moment with a “fucker!” or “shithole!” (in describing the UK), and giving hits like Giddy on the Ciggies and You're Brave an even more aggressive edge (something that may have seeped into the audience, as about half a dozen small fights were on the verge of breaking out at any moment down the front).

However, Williamson takes it all in his stride, bouncing between seething anger (so many 'roar' endings), biting sarcasm (“Order, order”) and genuine gratitude from moment to moment. He takes a second to give a personalised and heartfelt thanks to Glasgow (and Scotland) after the bonkers run of Jobseeker, Tied Up in Nottz and Tarantula Deadly Cargo. This is all in buildup to the announcement of “we are the Sleaford fucking Mods!” in perfect time with the opening of Tweet Tweet Tweet, letting the final words linger for a half-second before the devastating drum beat kicks the song into terrifying gear; a fitting climax to a performance that started strong and only ever got better. If there's a better live band in the UK, they should probably steer clear of Sleaford Mods.