MOG

Taking a quick glance across the crowd you could be forgiven for thinking this was an outdoor - floppy fringes dripping an alarming amount of water onto red faces. But instead we are (finally) deep in the heart of Manchester Uni, and the torrential rain that plagued the queue is somewhat of a memory.

Support comes from sassy and surreal New Yorkers Northern State. This all girl trio present a bizarre collision of CSS and Run DMC, with pelvis grinding basslines paired with beat-perfect lyrics, lyrics which verge from the ludicrous yet insightful to acerbic playground insults. I was never quite sure how sincere this rap was meant to be, but faux-irony is surely as hip as you can get? Highlight track "Sucka Mutherfucka" managed to fire off a broadside against commercial rap and Park Avenues mums whilst at the same time retaining a tongue in cheek confrontational style. Their stage presence was equally appealing, bouncing across the stage and pulling all the classic rap poses, it was impossible not to have fun at this set - especially when they kicked off the crowd dance competition. Riot Grrl for a post-feminist, Pitchfork generation, you can almost picture them beat-boxing at the end of Regina Spector's block, the flame haired _Soviet Kitsch_ star crossing the street to avoid these bad girls next door. They impressed me so much I bought their album as soon as the show ended, someone else liked them enough to throw them a hot-cross bun.

But it was the twins the rather soggy fans had really been waiting for, and as soon as they took to the stage the night jumped several leagues. Confident and at the same time tender, Tegan and Sara's playing was beautiful and enticing, tracks from both recent release The Con and further into the back catalogue thrown into the 80 minute set. At all times this was a show for the fans, even throwing up the houselights for a scintillating sing-along version of _Call it Off_. Yet it was between the songs that the sisters really sparkled. Ad lib sections seemed a delight to them rather than an obligation, as we heard about Tegan's teen neuroses, and pondered all those important qusionts in life: "What is a duff? Whatever happened to va-jay-jay?" Sara wondered halfway through the set, but it was Britain's obsession with breasts that provided the real conversation piece, as the three hundredth demand to see some tits came from the crowd. Treating your fans like friends should really be what the business should be about, although maybe not encouraging them to take off their clothes for you (coughSaracough), and it was this intimacy that turned a good show into a triumph.