A mutual passion for British military history might not seem the most likely of foundations for a band. However, Official Secrets Act formed at Leeds University after discovering their combined lust for all things imperial. Military tactics aside, they also discovered they had a lot in common musically. Soon, three of the four-piece, began touring and were spotted by Casio keyboard aficionado Michael Evans, who was more than glad to complete the quartet. A couple of years later their debut album comes in the shape of Understanding Electricity. The title might suggest an ultra avant-garde approach to song writing – ala Foals and Animal Collective. However, the album is a collection of accessible quirky pop songs, which draw heavily upon the scratchy angular guitars of Television and the snyth trickery of Sparks.

Surely that’s just Franz Ferdinand’s new album summed up in one line? - Well yes! Understanding Electricity does suffer, because too often its influences have already been rehashed and ground down by bands, until all that’s left is a derivative pulp of art rocker indie. That’s not to say OSA are derivative themselves-far from it. Their penchant for renaissance art and formal attire set them apart from the rest of the crowd. But, re-inventing the wheel this is certainly not. Nothing on the album jumps out at you. It’s like Brandon Flowers singing second rate Killers songs, which were left on the chopping room floor during the making of Day and Age.

Previous singles ‘The Girl From The BBC’ and ‘Victoria’ offer brief glimpses of promise. On the latter, the electric injection of Diamonds rumbling bass provides some initial excitement. However, the song quickly falls flat, due to its week vocal hook and ‘Oh’ Mickey’ style percussion. OSA are clearly trying to align themselves with the existing main stream indie artists. But, since when was setting out to achieve mainstream success a good idea? The current crop of indie pop artists, Scouting For Girls, The Hoosiers, Ting Tings, all do very little to excite your average music fan. What these bands do have behind them seems to be a very big marketing budget and a distinctive image. OSA has certainly got the image, but I hope for their sake the label dig deep into their pockets, or they won’t be around for much longer.

Canadian music seems to have finally dragged itself out from the insipid musical quagmire created by the likes of Adams and Dion. In recent year’s bands such as The Arcade Fire, The Born Ruffians and Caribou have proved that there is more to the country’s musical output then the trite power ballad. With a burgeoning indie scene, the precedent has now been set for The Coast to carry on the psychedelic torch with their debut Expatriate. The album is bursting with a desire to break out from the trappings of life in small town, but also speaks of a lament for the consequent distancing from your roots. With such a melancholic tone to the lyrics, the album could easily be conceived as being depressing, but thankfully the music remains incredibly uplifting and optimistic.

The cathedral style organ on opener ‘Tightrope’ instantly conjures up memories of the Arcade Fire’s glorious debut, the ethereal build of the song into a unifying anthem would have them wishing they stuck to there guns on Neon Bible. However, it’s poppier and more direct tone makes the song more accessible and instantly engaging, in comparison to there Canadian counterparts. The mood is instantly brought down for ‘Nueva York’, a morose tale of dangerously addictive love, combined with a driving beat and screeching strings the contrast is compelling. Throughout, the album is awash with swirling guitars, which at times ascend dizzying heights and then instantly crash, giving the album a slightly chaotic edge. Standout tracks, ‘No Secret why’ and ‘Killing Off Our Friends’ draws the music and lyrics together to condense their expansive sound into superbly crafted shimmering pop songs, which move and invigorate the listener.

The low key earnestness of ‘Songs For Gyps Rose Lee’ and ‘Play Me The Apostle’ provide the album with hidden depths. The guitars are stripped back, and the tempo brought down to allow Ian Fosbery’s poignant lyrics and touching voice to come to the forefront of the music. ‘Floodlights’ magnificently showcases their mastery of layered guitars and vocals, think New Order playing Arcade Fire covers, it builds and builds, with an energy that enthrals and enthuses. This captivating debut defiantly earns the right to sit along side Canada’s impressive roster of indie music.

It could not have been a more fitting venue for Brian Fallon and his fellow New Jersey band mates, to make their next step toward music’s upper echelons. A quick glance along the wall of the first floor bar reveals some of the past and present greats, who too have graced the stage. It is adorned with pictures and tickets stubs from past gigs by the likes of The Cure, Oasis, and Blur, too name but a few. Having only printed and initial 500 copies of their debut LP, The Gaslight Anthem’s rise has been meteoric to say the least. The last time they was in the UK they were playing the soon to be demolished Astoria 2, yet now only two months later, they find themselves in the grand settings of the lavish Shepherds Bush Empire.

As you can imagine Brian’s smile was permanently etched onto his face throughout the entire set. On opener ‘Great Expectations’ and ‘ Dance’ his American snarl bodes well with the energetic clash of New Jersey Hardcore and Alex Rosammilla’s more anglicised Brit Bop leanings. Throughout he sings with a level of earnest and intensity that his boy hood hero Springsteen would be proud of himself. He breaks occasionally and briefly to engage the crowd, but for the most he lets the music do the talking. His tales of broken lives, dead-end jobs and reckless nights, may appear as obvious subjects to the cynics, but they have clearly connected with their fans, who for the most of the set are happily enthralled in the revelry of the pit.

With only two albums to fill an hour and a half slot, the inevitability of covers is unavoidable, yet they are infused effortlessly. They appear more as musical nods to past heroes than outright covers, the first being a brief rendition of Ben E king’s Stand By Me, brilliantly prefixing ‘The ‘59 sound’. Covers aside, they still manage to find twenty songs from their relatively short career to play, none of which appear to be just filing gaps between hits, but instead are as justified in being aired as the next. As the uniting, power pop ending of ‘Miles Davis and the Cool’ leads the crowd in a guttural sing along, you can’t help but feel The Gaslight Anthem will soon be breaking out from the bedrooms of disillusioned teenagers and into the lives of us all.