Life can be funny. Friday night: last screened episode of Big Brother. Saturday night: Andy Yorke’s last gig with Unbelievable Truth. It seems certain that the rest of the chaps will continue to make music in some form or forms, but his decision to leave the pop arena has, equally certainly, been influenced by unnecessary hostility from a confederation of dunces who have criticised his audacity at being in a band AND being the younger brother of Radiohead’s Thom. Not that you would know anything of such negativity tonight. A capacity crowd - local, but also from as far away as the States and Japan - gives Unbelievable Truth’s finale a reception of unadulterated rapture. The set starts in low-key mode, with Andy backed only by Nigel Powell on keyboards; then on stroll bassist Jason and guitarist/keyboardist Jim, to more huge cheers. (The foolish thing about the sibling-related sneers is that this band is clearly a collective, not least evident from the multi-instrumental talents of Nigel and Jim).

Unbelievable Truth, it cannot be denied, convey a certain melancholy which is not a million miles away from the world inhabited by Thom and the boys; but where Radiohead use more ornate imagery, often drawn from dystopian science fiction, Unbelievable Truth’s songs opt instead for a direct, almost folksy lyrical simplicity. And musically, their occasional forays into guitar storms and sampled electronica never detract from the feeling that these are songs originally conceived for acoustic guitar and piano, suited to some doomed Buckley-esque balladeer in a smoky bar somewhere. But the Stipe/REM connection is never far away either, particularly on first album material such as ‘Settle Down’ and ‘Finest Little Space’. Towards the end of the set (a heroic two hours) an atmosphere of cathartic celebration sets in with a variety of these more upbeat numbers, to which the crowd sings along, willing them not to leave the stage through a slew of encores… but leave they must. In the words

Art Lagun