Sad times for noise freaks: this looks like being the last Pedigree Falcon promoted gig, at least for a very long time. Seems booking migraine rock is like cutting a hole in your pocket. But, and I’m sure the 17 other people here would agree, what a way to bow out: high volume detonations from three different directions. Shield Your Eyes introduce tonight’s theme of vein-bulging intensity and phenomenal playing skills, this time with some added squished-face yelping. Their furious rock squawk is ultra abrasive, math rock on a knife edge, clattering, acid. The last song holds a riff forever; they keep bashing it and I can’t stop smiling.

Time to set up one guitar amp and one drumkit in the middle of the crowd. This is Pneuand ‘French Lightning Bolt’ is a compliment. The Lyon duo are more stripped down than their Rhode Island counterparts, more mammoth skeleton than big furry beast, but even pared down these constituent parts offer way too much high-yield fun. The drums are like some thunderous expresso robot, the guitar tries to keep up, and succeeds. It’s Jackson Pollock, at a party, with a nailgun, and yes, I have been fired.

Will anyone else in South Wales book Theoagain? Fourth time in Cardiff thanks to Pedigree Falcon; fourth time I’ve fallen for Sam Knight’s lone guy trickery. The set up’s simple, the pay off devastating: guitar lines are looped, fret-tapping adds further layers, and the whole swirling mess gets a pasting at the drumkit. It’s a great treat to watch Knight bashing at the skins, the tall skinny bastard octopus finding the rhythm buried in the echoing, repeated noise. It’s the same rabbit from the hat every time, but no matter; as the last song throws out two-chord clang and drumsticks pointed skywards, the familiar tired grin of a Pedigree Falcon night spreads over everyone’s faces.