Who they are: Goldie Lookin' Chain (on stage 2.00am)
Venue: Canvas

Ah Canvas, we went rollerskating with the Love Bites here once. Happy days. Now though, there's a covers band and karaoke. The evening has taken a turn for the odd. Where are GLC? Ah, they're in a secret room...

For a band who currently have no record deal, Goldie Lookin' Chain show no signs of being downtrodden or defeated. Probably because they were doing this long before anyone outside of Newport gave a 'clart'. They do what they do, and if anyone else likes it enough to give them a six figure recording contract then it is, quite literally, a bonus.

This is the most fun we've had all evening (and we have had a lot of fun). Maybe the cheese sandwich we ate has helped. Whenever we tell ourselves we'll never laugh at 'Your Missus Is A Nutter' again, we see GLC live and the jokes are as funny as when we first heard them. They're making us all chant the word "fuck". Why is that funny? Who knows? In 322BC, Aristotle wrote that the origin of comedy was the knob gag and who are we to argue with a very ancient Greek?

Anyway, back on stage, the boys are pointing out each other's sweat patches. Adam Hussein is in fine form. We met him once too, but now he keeps shouting "Let's all get shitfaced!" (They claim they've been drinking since 2pm!) And before we know it, it's all over with a mass sing-a-long of 'R'n'B'. Then we see a man with the most extraordinarily huge moustache and decide it's time for some fresh air.

See you in the morning. Oh, it is the morning.




Who they are: Larrikin Love (onstage 9.45am)
Venue: London Barfly

We're going to be honest with you. We could pretend that we've been rocking till the break of dawn but we have actually been to bed, and slept. Is that cheating? Yes, it probably is. But we did go to bed very late and got up very early - and slept on a lumpy sofa. We're still keeping it relatively real.

Ah, we love the smell of Camden in the morning, though the sticky floor of the Barfly is a little unsettling at such an early hour. The Holloways are a welcome sight, as they're still in their PJs and dressing gowns. They're eating croissants! Can we have some? Yes we can. We've got pastries - let's dance! Everyone is very bouncy. Some people have clearly been up 'enjoying themselves' all night, which would explain the wearing of shades indoors. It's not 'cool', it's a medical necessity.

Edward Larrikin Love has the oddest hair we've ever seen (and we saw Melvyn Bragg in a park the other day). They're the only Carling 24 headliner who haven't yet visited the Top 40, but we think that's soon about to change. They start with 'Children Please Beware' - which we hope was directly influenced by the opening line of Tiffany's 'I Think We're Alone Now' [ackcheloi that was 'children behave' - Ed] - and make no acknowledgement of the ridiculous time of day they're on stage. Perhaps they think they're on 'CD:UK' (no one tell them it's not on at the moment). We make the snap decision that this is the best performance we've seen so far, and although we might have said that about the previous three, we definitely mean it this time.

Larrikin Love's violinist is making us want to add the hoedown to our repertoire of moves. 'Edwould' has us wondering if we can pull off that thing where you jump in the air and click your heels together, but we're scared we'll kick the girl next to us in the kidneys. The singer's blazer looks like curtains or carpet. You'll all be wearing one this summer. Ooh, a glockenspiel. That's nice.

When we step outside again, we experience that feeling of disorientation you get when you've been to the cinema in the day: darkness to unexpected light. We overhear an argument as to whether its better to be travelling on the Carling 24 press bus or the special Carling Hummers. We don't get involved in politics.

Where are we going now? Oh yes, over there...