It has been a long, odd journey for New Jersey's Wrens. Years of legal wranglings with labels mean that 17 years into their career they have released just three albums. Only now - three years after its US release to breathless reviews - is their latest, The Meadowlands, getting a push over here.

The years of troubles appear however to be a motivational tool for the quartet. Melodic indie-rockers in the studio - you could imagine Snow Patrol fans nodding along approvingly - their middle-aged rage tumbles forth onstage in a 50-minute set of staggering and unexpected intensity that any number of touted newcomers would fail to match.

The focal point is bassist and singer Kevin Whelan, who appears to be on the brink of doing violence to bandmates and audience alike. He has all the charismatic unpredictability that Shane MacGowan possessed before the drink and drugs became an end rather than a means, but twice the focus and stamina. He pushes his brother, guitarist Greg Whelan, throws bottles of water at drummer Jerome MacDonnell, clambers up the speaker stacks, and makes as if to crush the front row's heads with his guitar.

Whelan's antics, of course, would be so much sound and fury were the rest of the band unable to match that passion. But they do. Songs that chime and jangle on record snarl and roar from the speakers. It is impossible to tear your eyes away. On this form the Wrens are surely one of the best live bands in the world.

The sole encore, This Boy Is Exhausted, sees guitarist Charles Bissell step to the microphone to murmur the words that encapsulate the band's dilemma: too poor to continue, too committed to stop. "I can't type, I can't temp, I'm way past college," he sings. "But then once in a while, we'll play a show that makes it all worthwhile ... but this boy is exhausted." As he observes before they leave the stage: "Not bad for a bunch of old guys from New Jersey."