Gig preview: Manic Street Preachers

MANIC Street Preachers played at King Tut's on three occasions in 1991, back when they were still stencil-painting their mums' blouses as stagewear and guitarist Richey Edwards was still around to throw shapes on the wing. They've never forgotten the experience, thanking Tut's from the stage at T In The Park for being the first venue to give them hot food, and their return to the tiny stage with the low ceiling (beanpole bassist Nicky Wire quipped it must have been designed with the Pat Nevins of this world in mind) has to be the biggest treat of King Tut's 20th birthday month.

To mark the anniversary, they played their intro tape from 1991 – an extract from Allen Ginsberg's Howl – and kicked off with a rarely played oldie, Strip It Down, from their debut New Art Riot EP. Like all their early material, it was a crude homage to their punk heroes, but damn tuneful with it, and a long way from the relative sophistication of their subsequent No1, If You Tolerate This Your Children Will Be Next, also in their set.

This was a typical Manics juggernaut of a performance, just for a more exclusive audience, and no matter what they played – whether early B-side Donkeys, their latest material, such as the savagely witty Jackie Collins Existential Question Time (chorus: "oh mummy, what's a Sex Pistol?") or a cast-iron classic such as Motorcycle Emptiness – the cheers of recognition and the lusty crowd singalongs, sometimes with additional pogoing, were the same.

Everything was as it should be: Edwards was remembered with the dark, muscular Peeled Apples, the ever-mouthy Wire dissed Radiohead and wore an animal print rah-rah miniskirt, they unleashed the feral beast that is Motown Junk, all roads led to the passionate A Design For Life, and there was still no encore.

ZOMBIE ZOMBIE PERFORM THE MUSIC OF JOHN CARPENTER

MONO, GLASGOW

DESPITE being presented as part of the Glasgow Film Festival, Parisian duo Zombie Zombie provided a straight live show here, the band having ultimately decided not to opt for the back-projection of film clips they were going to perform in front of.

Yet still, the contingent of Glasgow's most scenesterish gig-goers and cineasts packing out Mono must have been very pleased with this set, newly commissioned by the GFF.

It was a respectful tribute to John Carpenter, American auteur and godfather of a unique brand of low-budget independent cinema through the 1970s and 1980s, and the pioneering electronic soundtracks he created for his films. Highly regarded among fans of underground electronica, Zombie Zombie – Etienne Jaumet on keyboards and samplers and Cosmic Neman (also of indie band Herman Dune) on drums – play a similar style of music to Carpenter, a brand of sparse and minimal retro synth sounds.

Their performance here wasn't hugely dynamic, but it did capture perfectly the creepy twilit echoes of Carpenter's work, enhancing it with the rumbling volume of the live arena and Neman's tense, twitchy, perfectly weighted drum parts.

Cheers greeted the more well-known tracks, particularly a striking take on Assault on Precinct 13's main theme and revisits to the camp but edgy soundtrack of Escape from New York. There wasn't so much dancing as a lot of appreciative head-nodding going on up the front, and this subtle, mesmerising show might have only been enhanced by seating for all. Comfy big cinema chairs, at that.

Gig preview: Manic Street Preachers | Zombie Zombie