The Kaiser Chiefs @ The Scala, October 23

Blame it on the overflowing guestlist. Blame it on the North-South divide. Blame it on the Scala's sludgy sound system. Whichever way you look at it, the Kaisers' intimate gig as part of XFM's 10th birthday frivolities was a bit of a damp squib. Ricky Wilson bounded onstage with the usual vigour and relentless enthusiasm that has helped woo a nation into making his band one of the biggest bankers in the business. Whitey added his touch of Northern Soul to their infectious melodies, Nick did no harm to his reputation as arguably the UK's best pop drummer, Simon weaved his way around the stage with his wonky, wacky 'fro swaying to the bass lines, while Peanut is well...Peanut's just Peanut. But as they charged through the set openers 'Everyday I Love You Less and Less' and recent single 'Everything Is Average Nowadays', no matter how much pogo-ing and microphone-tossing Ricky served up, and despite the frenetic efforts of the die-hards down the front, they couldn't mask what was a rather muted reception for the Yorkshire lads.

Considering these guys are supposed to be packing out Earls Court at the end of the year, it's astounding that the majority of the crowd appeared satisfied with watching from the back of the venue with arms folded and gentle approving head nods. Perhaps it's a year of touring the world's biggest festival stages and the preparation for their arena tour that explains their lack of sparkle. The band are now playing like stadium rockers, with the amps flicked up to max, and heavy bass and drum sounds masking any subtleties within their jam-packed hits set. When The Kaisers knocked down our doors in 2003 they did it with the sort of glee usually found on eight-year-old kids playing kiss-catch in the playground. The Chiefs were here to stick two thumbs down at miserable garage-trash being tossed out by New Yorkers and offer a big thumbs up to choruses bigger than Vanessa Feltz's rear end and melodies juicier than a carton of Sunny Delight. But for some reason, that tireless and shameless desire to please fails to surface at the Scala.

The usually scintillating 'The Heat Dies Down' and wired call-to-arms of 'I Predict A Riot' morph into run-of-the-mill jogs, while Ricky is a braver man than most when he requests the venue to hold their arms aloft in unison. Fortunately even the grumpiest-looking punters oblige for the cherubic singer. There are of course the usual highlights of any Kaisers set. Ricky's charge into the audience and treacherous trek across the balcony during the elongated, bellow of 'Oh My God', the daft, giddy sugar-rush of 'Na, Na, Na, Na, Na' and the ever-impressive and imperious 'Ruby' make the floorboards wobble and front rows get a little sweaty. But what should have been a glorious party never quite kicks into top gear, with the band sounded bloated (maybe they tucked a little too generously into the XFM birthday cake), while the hip-cat audience is unwilling to forgive these frailties and throw themselves into the show to make up the difference. For a band who should normally have the letters F-U-N attached to their foreheads, they were severely under-par and out of sorts tonight.