Steer clear of any group described as "butane/lager/speed/skunk" or "aftershave/Valium/acid rock". The resultant mess will make you wish you'd stayed home. But then there's north London's Regular Fries all of the above who somehow transcend slobhood to create something curiously gripping. It's an instinctive sort of shambles, as practised by the Happy Mondays who turned chaos into an art-form.

Like them, the Fries don't have songs as much as loose ideas which they adapt as the show rumbles along. Improvisation is almost forced upon them: there are so many people cluttering the tiny stage, including two singer-ranters and a hippie assigned with pelting the audience with paper "Fries money", that all any of them can do is to hit an instrument and hope for the best. What emerges is not quite dance and not quite rock, but a deep, dark sludge. The most obvious comparison, evoked by loping percussion and the erratic shouts of vocalists Dave Brothwell and Rich Little, is Madchester 89. But there's a complementary artiness that comes from elsewhere.

Yes, artiness. King Kong, the single from next month's debut LP Accept the Signal, may revolve around the Homer Simpsonesque chorus "Better be a monkey if you like King Kong", but there are signs the Fries are in it for more than the thrill. A film loop of an endlessly pirouetting ballerina, and the appearance of a large birdcage point to a pranksterish agenda. The KLF haven't done badly with this sort of thing: with a bit of luck, Regular Fries will soon be in a position to film themselves burning £1 million.