The Cave Singers @ ABC

The ABC's sprawling confines aren't entirely appropriate for a band as hushed as The Cave Singers. On record, the Texan trio's country varnished ear-pleasers flutter out in streams of affecting, strolling melody but, in the midst of these looming surroundings, such intimacy is rarely achieved. Shuffling on stage with a coyness that belies their post-punk roots, the group are an awkward ruffle of tepid, weary eyed rhythms. The blues-soaked folk of Invitation Songs is tragically deflated, with tracks like the normally hay-stomping Seeds of Night and Oh Christine receding into a trench of nasal vocal whines and dissipating acoustica that fails to enchant an increasingly attentionless crowd. Machine gunning his way through a magnificent Dancing On Our Graves, Marty Lund's incessant skin pummelling is the one saving grace of this strangely stifled set but, despite such sprightly endeavours, the sound from tonight's cave proves to be decidedly hollow. [Billy Hamilton]