The Grand Social stage is decorated with helium filled clouds for Hvmmingbyrd’s Know My Name EP launch. There is a seated area at the front of the room giving the evening a theatrical feel that is fitting to the performers. Support acts Ailbhe Reddy and Rosa Nutty both sing to hollow bodied electric guitars. Their dulcet tones are a fine aperitif for the main course to follow. Full time Hvmmingbyrds Suzette Das and Deborah Byrne are joined by bassist Neil Dorrington from BARQ, their old drummer Helen Lane, and Know My Name producer Aisling Jarvis on guitar for this one-off show.

The set opens with an instrumental passage, then with the help of the band it's a stonking version of ‘Blindsided’. It’s one of the stronger moments on the EP and with the power of the full band behind it, it reaches another level. Byrne adds a floor tom to their debut single ‘Out Of My Head’ before the guest musicians leave the two core members for a mash up of Madonna and Massive Attack with Byrne on electric guitar. With Das's atmospheric keyboards complementing the pair's interweaving harmonies, the two songs mesh seamlessly even when Byrne scolds herself for stumbling over a verse.

The backing trio return for ‘Never’; one of the highlights of the CD, complete with a kickass breakdown. ‘Legacy’ then bounds in with an off-kilter rhythm. It is essentially the title track of the record with its chorus of “So you might know my name/ Immortalise my face/ Maybe it’ll mean something/ Or else I’ll be forgotten”.

It’s their first time playing with a backing band and it does show through with some of the playing very loose and under-rehearsed. Nevertheless, with the other players behind them; Lane’s light touch on the drums and the fat bass from Dorrington, they sound even more trip-hoppy. They finish with their signature tune ‘If Love Was Enough’. Hvmmingbyrd mark II have only just begun.

The booking of San Francisco garage/psych band Thee Oh Sees at The Coronet was a surprising one – an old theatre tucked away in a corner of the Elephant and Castle roundabout, its pedigree lies more in drum n bass events than distorted guitars and dual drum kits. However it did offer me the opportunity to go to a gig in London without having to plan public transport, a rarity that any capital-based gig goer will appreciate. This resulted in a slow meander to the Rockingham Arms rather than a panicked rush across the city in multiple sweat drenched underground metal containers. For those who haven’t had the pleasure, the Rockingham Arms is a branch of Wetherspoons which has steadfastly resisted the gentrification taking hold of the rest of the area. Local old men dress up to their nines to head in for breakfast and get steadily more unsteady as the day goes on, I’ve had to change plans when visiting only to find it closed after full scale bar brawls and you’re generally unlikely to find someone drinking a flat white whilst reading the Guardian or updating their blog in there.

A couple of us once witnessed a trail of bloodstains which led from the nearest subway entrance across the path, through the open door and all the way to the bar; random beauty found in the ephemera of violence. Tonight, however, is a mellower affair; the pub is rammed but the mood seems to be a good one. It seems surprisingly free of gig-goers as well, until a glance across the roundabout reveals that everyone is already queueing up. I’ve rarely seen a line this long for a gig that hasn’t been for some big name at the Brixton O2, where you can often see crowds snaking right around the block. This one semi-blocks both entrance and exit to the Elephant and Castle Northern Line, a sign of just how revered a live experience John Dwyer’s troupe have become. We nurse a couple of lagers before entering, thinking we’ll grab some more at the bar; which turns out to be one, as a fiver for a warm can of Carlsberg is something that even someone such as myself, hardened to the cutthroat world of the London gig bar price, can’t really stomach.

“It’s alright though, the feeling of slowly melting brain cells being annihilated by hydroponically grown South London skunk should see me through the evening”, I think as we sip gently at our beers like they were the finest champagne money can buy. We aim towards the front as the band mirror us, taking to the stage with little fanfare. Rock and roll histrionics aren’t necessary when the music does the talking this well. Actually getting to the front however – or even beyond the steps down into the area which constitutes the back of the front – proves basically impossible. Someone has clearly overestimated how many people can actually fit into the dilapidated building and it is very nearly impossible to move. We head upstairs to the top balcony where, despite the band being a distant wall of noise and the lights being close enough to have us drenched in sweat just sitting down, we are able to move our limbs as and when is needed.

Luckily the sound is still spot on way up in the rafters, because there is no faulting the band’s performance. As mentioned before, crowd interaction is left to the music itself and no-one is complaining because the band’s adventurous brew of garage rock, psychedelia, punk, noise rock and whatever they feel like at the time communicates their message perfectly. John Dwyer stomps and points his guitar like Angus Young, Tim Hellman’s bass swirls in and out of the mix whilst simultaneously underpinning the group’s more tripped out moments and the dual drum assault is frankly mesmerising. Watching Ryan Moutinho and Dan Rincon from our vantage point, as they hit every beat at the exact same moment, manages to send me into a zoned out state lying between meditative and cauliflower on more than one occasion. I am bought back occasionally by jarring bursts of feedback, by the group revving into a heavier moment, and by random flashes of concern over what would happen if a fire broke out, or a gig-goer suddenly turned zombie and took a bite out of their next door neighbour. A building this crowded would be prime Walking Dead territory and shit would get gnarly in no time.

The group are doing a good enough job of keeping aggression levels high on stage anyway, with moments of tense, pent up quiet giving way to pulverising heaviness which keeps the audience on their toes. Who needs a zombie apocalypse when you have a wall of sound trying to rip through your aural canals? The set keeps us rapt for some time, but as the encores begin we decide to make a head start on the crush for the exit – a brilliant live set, but the venue choice definitely left a little to be desired…

We like an urban festival here at Musos’ Guide so when a new one turns up practically on the doorstep it’s only fair to head West and see what’s going down. Freakender (the branchild of Fuzzkill records, Eyes Wide Open & El Rancho records)took over Glasgow’s The Old Hairdressers for two nights and a day & played host to 20+ international acts for barely noticeable ticket prices.

The overall organisation was spot-on and sound-wise you could only quibble about a couple of acts suffering less than clear vocals over the course of the event. Friday’s programming was possibly a bit unfortunate in that the melodic but also punchy at times Home Slice and the spiky afrobeat of Rapid Tan fired folk up but were followed by the slower paced The Pooches, Wedding and Spinning Coin thereby giving a bit of anti-climax (although that shouldn’t be read as comment on the latter acts’ actual performances, all of which were roundly and rightly applauded).

Saturday afternoon brought a 3pm start and the introduction of bands on the building’s ground floor. Mercifully the possible crowd congestion from folk moving en masse between the two performance spaces never seemed to materialise so it was possible to easily enjoy the propulsive Electric Gardens, Domiciles (think pre-disco Tame Impala), the jazz leanings of Lylo & the jazz fusion of Velvet Morning, Virgin Kids debuting a couple of new tracks, The Bellybuttons packing out the upstairs hall with Thee MVPs being similarly popular immediately after downstairs.

Fruit Tones brought a good dose of levity to the start of the latter part of the day whilst Feels were an absorbing example of music as scream therapy. Last on downstairs were the ever excellent Breakfast Muff, displaying it seemed a newer & more mature version of themselves. The Cosmic Dead crowned the whole thing off with a return home after 8 weeks of touring and theirs was the full-on, organised chaos and all round towering madness that you would expect from a band that remain one of the most exciting in the world today.

Confession time – due to tiredness and lack of ideas on how to fill the time (we know there’s plenty to do, just nowt appealed) until the Sunday night performances we bugged out early so apologies to the acts not covered here. We certainly though hope the event was a success as all involved can be deservedly proud of the results of their efforts & a return in 2017 is only just.

Like all good things Incubate had to end but not before Paradox hosted a couple of packed out shows in the shape of the intense trio Inwolves and the dreamscape ambience of Laraarji.

V39 played host to the fun and fast Lookapony (a late addition to the bill it seems). Elements of Wavves & other similar acts inform their catchy and enjoyable tunes.

At the northern limit of the event’s reach Hall Of Fame presented the emotionally charged ethereality of duo Muscle And Marrow, followed by the equally emotive, Giallo informed sounds of Italian pair Father Murphy. The aim of catching all four of Slow Down Molasses’ sets was failed though, due to a late finish the night before, slight difficulty in getting hold of today’s programme & their being on at 3pm.

Final doses of heavyweight metal in various guises could be found throughout the day with Little Devil filling to the brim for Wiegedood, Black Cobra getting their stoner groove on in Extase (& probably winning the prize for best t-shirt image, if not for keenest price). Fans were out in force at 013 for the live return of UK doom trio Ramesses who didn’t fail to impress but unfortunately much heralded US trio YOB experienced technical difficulties of unknown origin, making for a disjointed show from the ‘90s veterans (previously completely unknown to me).

Elsewhere through the course of the day, which was for the most part a bit hard to get into musically, the fucked up disco of Pop. 1280 had limited appeal but the uncompromising music (and a possibly slightly stoned drummer) along with Satomi’s aerobic bouncing around the stage made Deerhoof a highlight of the four days. A band with a very high feel good factor attached.

Cul De Sac provided the other top shows of the day with Chilean trio La Hell Gang turning in a set of top notch laidback psych, at times oddly bringing to mind The Stone Roses' Second Coming, much as that might seem like an insult. Cool Ghouls were the final band to play this small venue and their Sadies meets Black Lips country punk was a great climax to a well put together musical programme. Kudos too for their shirts being only 12 euros.

Thanks go once again to Peter & Els for providing a home from home & also for introducing the party jazz of Bora Bora to the weekend’s musical goings on. Incubate returns at the start of December and we’ll publish the line-up as soon as we know it.