Sleaze punk. An evocative phrase, possibly even a contradiction in terms. However, it comfortably describes each of tonight’s bands even though they are as like each other as sleaze and punk.. If tonight’s act were coffee Suicide Bombers would be a dark, strong espresso, Continental Lovers would be a warming, familiar americano and Trench Dogs would be a light and frothy cappucino, possibly with marshmallows. All have the same roots but present them in their own style – put the kettle on and let’s settle in for the next couple of hours!

We start off with Suicide Bombers, a ragged-around the edges outfit from Oslo in Norway. They are raw, tattered and a little bit angry, Stylish gutter punks, they give us a set of loud and uncompromising harshness with just a touch of black eyeliner to soften the proceedings a little. In places their sound is very much reminiscent of early Motorhead when it was Lemmy, Fast Eddie and Philthy. It’s bass-driven, with occasional inspirational blasts of guitar and lyrics that are spat as much as they are sung. It’s dangerous and degenerate, this band pull no punches. They are in your face from the first note and as the set powers on it only becomes more dark, more exciting, more fuck you in attitude.

They use pre-recorded tracks between songs to point the punters at their merch, which is novel and gives singer and guitarist Chris a chance to catch his breath. The song titles make no sense, we get ‘So Bad’, ‘Suicide Idol’ and ‘Bladerunner Tokyo’ and we join in with the air punching and the “Oi”s without really understanding why; you get the feeling that if you don’t, Chris will not be happy and although actually when talking at the bar he’s a lovely guy you don’t want to make him angry!

Nottingham’s Continental Lovers are up next, a slightly more laid-back outfit who bring a much more laid-back sound. Stylewise they are street urchins with baker boy caps, cravats, waistcoats and shabby-chic clothes. Musically they move a bit further away from the punk and dive headlong into the sleaze. The sound brings to mind The Wildhearts (in fact drummer Ace has played with Ginger in several projects in the past), The Almighty, and possibly even Last Great Dreamers. They also nod towards the OG sleazepunk band The New York Dolls.

It’s a little more comfortable, a little less threatening, a little more accessible than what Suicide Bombers threw at us yet there’s still an edge of grittiness that never really gets shaken off. Most of the songs are off their most recent self-titled album but they also throw in a couple of new ones just to keep things moving for us. The sound is a little late 70’s New Wave in places, and their only cover is Stiv Bators’ ‘Make Up Your Mind’ because, as singer/guitarist Joe explains, “we just like it!” There are snippets of familiar riffs in there, I think for a moment they are going to break into Kiss’s ‘Do You Love Me’ but despite singing the first verse it then morphs into something else, and there’s one song that points to someone in the band having a love of The Knack’s ‘My Sharona’ but again it’s just a teaser and becomes one of their own upbeat ditties.

Overall they were fun – if Suicide Bombers came across as the type to nut you in the face to steal your wallet then Continental Lovers are more likely to get you very very drunk then sneak it away when you’re not looking.

Finally Trench Dogs from Sweden lighten the mood even further. Imagine a bunch of long-haired hippies with lots of centre parted hair, paisley and scarves fronted by a Duracell-bunny Australian with hair that’s nearly as big as he is? Well that’s Trench Dogs for you! Can you also imagine their sound? If you think a reincarnated and beefed-up version of the Dogs D’Amour or The Quireboys you’d be spot-on.

They move to the other end of the sleaze punk spectrum, maintaining rawness but fully embracing the sleaze and mixing in some glam just for shits and giggles. It’s more poppy, more commercial, but there’s still an underlaying feel of menace and unpredictability that stops you getting too comfortable when watching them.

These guys won’t steal your wallet at all, they will just help you to empty it by partying you til you drop. They are not so serious, much more fun and to be honest an absolute delight to watch. Even the song titles are more cheerful, indeed with titles like ‘Colourful’, ‘Rattling Bones’ and ‘Cobblestone Waltz’ they bring a smile to the face and a nod to the head of the dourest punks in the audience. It’s all very bouncy and jolly, and the crowd duly bounds along with them.

Musically they are tight, vocally they are spot-on and despite it being a Tuesday night in Stoke they appear to be enjoying themselves hugely as they continue to entertain us. By the time they get to set closer ‘Homesick Parade’ with its yell-along chorus of “Roll Over! Roll Over Little Rock & Roller” both support bands are out in the crowd having a bit of a bop, and they end on a high note in a rattle of tambourine and smiles so wide it’s possible their faces may crack.