Pop-punk has never been one of rock's more respected sub-cults, probably because so many bands have done such horrible things with it. It should be so easy - three chords, flat-out 4/4 drums and a catchy tune - but it takes a particular deftness of touch to get it right.

Defter than most in recent times are Portland's the Thermals, tonight headlining a packed London sweatbox after finishing a stint supporting the Cribs. It almost feels reductive to call them pop-punk (please cast Blink 182 out of your mind right away), but as they are a scruffy power trio given to two-minute songs played with a minimum of fuss and a maximum of pep and passion, so be it.

The secret to their simple-but-superior musical chops may well lie in their feel for pace and rhythm. Although they reach breakneck pace sometimes, more often (and especially on songs from the fantastic The Body, the Blood, the Machine album) they pull the tempo back to a sweet spot that makes for a sensation of careering, propulsive joy without getting too giddy or frantic. There is a heck of a lot going on lyrically too - from criticising bad pop culture to musing over religious hang-ups and the fate of mankind, no less.

Freshly released from weeks of support-slot time restraints, tonight they let rip with a relatively epic set. It is still just under an hour long, but they get through a good 25 or so songs in that time, and there is a temptation to suggest 15 minutes less would have done them no harm. Nevertheless, if proof was needed of pop-punk's abililty to add smarts and skill to its simple thrills, these guys are it.