As slick new venues like the Roundhouse, Gilgamesh and At Proud testify to NW1's renaissance, it's nice to see the old Camden refuses to die.

Punks still mill about by the canal, dealers still ply you with skunk and undernourished boys and their overexcited girlfriends still flock to see bands like Tapes 'n' Tapes play good old-fashioned indie rock.

The Minneapolis quartet have become one of the most blogged-about bands of this year, thanks to some lively internet demos and a series of blockbusting gigs at music-industry showcase South by Southwest in March.

But if their rather silly name has become synonymous with a rather silly amount of hype, Tapes 'n' Tapes didn't seem unduly bothered at a packed Dingwalls last night.

If they were feeling jaded, frontman Josh Grier and his amusingly moustachioed bandmates hid it as they summarily dispatched their set.

Pulses were raised for the spaghetti western of In Houston and The Insistor, a rattling polka, but otherwise, the band were a touch too casual. The subtleties of their debut, The Loon, were lost in a guitar-heavy mix. The cult darlings sounded like little more than a good local band thrust prematurely into the spotlight.

Oh well. You can't believe everything you read on the internet.