When the penchant for rock reunions has spiralled out of control, it's hard not to be cheered by the apparently temporary reappearance of Pavement. Percussionist Bob Nastanovich has said they reformed in part to help pay off his gambling debts, but at least people cared about them in the first place.

They arrived in the early 90s, proof that, just as British alt-rock geared up for the big commercial push of Britpop, the US equivalent was getting weird. The fervour with which even their most elliptical material is greeted tonight reaffirms that Pavement became a touchstone for fans unmoved by Oasis et al's courting of the mainstream.

They still sound grippingly odd, even if the gig doesn't have the unhinged quality of their early shows. They just get on with it, and play a set stretching back to their debut single Box Elder – its lovely, snagging melody is early evidence that beneath their fondness for confounding noise and wilfully odd lyrics, there lurked an innate understanding of pop music.

Their later material sounds marginally less like a band attempting to play while on a rough ferry crossing than the tracks from debut Slanted and Enchanted: Summer Babe lurches along, a glorious, lovelorn shambles. But it's accompanied by a thrilling sense of imminent chaos: between the choruses of Stereo, the band's members appear to be playing different songs. As the guitars howl and collide and Nastanovich bellows into a mic, Pavement still seem unique – no mean feat considering the number of bands who tried to sound like them.

Repeated tonight. Tickets: 0844 477 2000.