Though the Spice of Life played host to the forerunners of the 60’s and 70’s folk scene, and some of punk’s leading lights, nowadays its anodyne basement – reminiscent of the dining area in the Linton Travel Tavern – makes for a dispiriting live venue.

Oh well. Kudos to O Titus! for holding the attention of an initially apathetic crowd throughout their early set. True, their beery, occasionally ramshackle nature would better suit a grotty backroom nearer Camden than Soho. But part of the whole being in a band thing is about trying to produce the goods when the context’s working against you, and these guys took an admirable stab at it.

Once I’d successfully averted my gaze first from the drummer’s demonic glare and then from the guitarist’s eye-popping trousers, the O Titus! formula for live success dawned upon me: essentially, layer an almost punky energy on top of bluesy, prominent bass lines. Not rocket science then, but effective nonetheless.

The memorable riff underpinning “Seagulls” could propel the band towards radio airplay, though there was more fun to be had with the fuzzy, stop-start “Stephenson’s Rocket”, and the laconic “Polka”. Throughout, there was an underlying (beneficial) tension between the music itself – upfront, straightforward and arresting – and the lyrics, which take in obscure pop culture references and include the odd unexpected linguistic diversion (I don’t think I’d ever heard someone sing “syncopated” before).

If they can tighten up their sound a bit without losing the suggestion of amateurism that makes them appealing in the first place, O Titus! could be on to something. Just not round here.