When we heard, months ago, that Sheffield's dilapidated 'Roxy Disco' building had been purchased by the AMG group - operators of the 'Carling Academy' music venues - with a view to it becoming the 'Sheffield Carling Academy' we were quite excited. As time moved on, and we found out that the venue's opening act would be Grenoside's own 'Reverend & The Makers', well, let's just say that the clickthru to seetickets.com was more-or-less instantaneous.

As it turns out, it was quite lucky we bought our tickets when we did, because the gig sold out only a day or two later - pretty impressive for an act that's only troubled the top 20 twice.

We arranged for my mum to pop over and babysit Aimee, and we toddled off to the bus stop for the bus to town - a little later than we'd planned, but we weren't really bothered too much as we figured the first support act, 'Toddla T' (no, really) would be toss anyhow. If we'd could catch some 'Smokers Die Younger', the other support act, that'd be great. However, due to First South Yorkshire's dire bus service (our 'every 15 minutes' service arrived after standing at the bus stop for nearly 50 minutes) and our mixed up assumption of the running order, we arrived at the Academy mid-way through 'Toddla T's set. Joy.

AMG claim to have spent £3 million in refurbing the 'Roxy' - and we were quite apprehensive as to what was awaiting us - having been past the building a few times in the week and seeing it look very much like a building site. However, once inside we were greeted with a fairly open auditorium, with balcony above. The stage is suitably impressive - I can't help thinking that it is a little too big for the room, though.

I'm not sure what 'Toddla T' are up to. Is it a comedy act or serious musical venture? There's a rapper/MC guy ostensibly rapping away whilst a DJ fuses some bleep/synth with dancehall drum and bass. Pretty ordinary pop-jungly-bollocks, really - apart from the guy robot-dancing with a cardboard box on his head, oh, and the two white girls done-up like a pair of Ali G's 'biatches' (replete with bling and ridiculous sunglasses) just... being there. Very, very odd.

It being a 'Carling' venue, there is some focus on selling as much lager as possible - and, indeed, the four-person deep queues at all three of the bars I found inside indicated that there were plenty of thirsty people - just a pity that there were nowhere near enough bar staff, and their 'time saving' barcode scanning tills seemed to be having some teething problems. All in all, it took us a good 30 minutes to get a drink whilst putting up with the mighty 'T's jibber-jabber drum and bass. Not a great start.

However, it isn't long before the Reverend & co are on-stage - curiously launching into it with a new song followed by their biggest hit, Heavyweight Champion of the World. They blitz through the setlist with a mixture of album tracks, and quite a few 'new' numbers - one in particular was introduced by Jon (the 'Reverend') McClure lighting up a ciggie on-stage and proclaiming that "Gordon Brown can't tell me when I can have a fag!" before giving us a taste of a cynical, political track - telling us to "think for yourselves" and that the government can't tell you what to do. All very hackneyed 'indie' concepts, but delivered in such a frantic, euphoric way, you'd almost start believing him.

If there's one band the Makers are the polar opposites of, it's Manc giants, Oasis. When going to an Oasis gig, you may as well just put some cardboard cutouts on the stage and stick a copy of "Definitely Maybe" on the PA - not so for these guys. They fling themselves round the stage with such haphazard abandon that their careless demeanor becomes infectious, and the happy vibes pass through the crowd. It's not just the tracks, either - Jon unleashes spontaneous bursts of poetry between his interplay with the audience ("That fag's just cost me 2 grand") - sure, some of it is indie-rock-band-101, but the wheat outweighs the chaff. If there's a dictionary definition of "Party Band", this is it.

By the time the final number is on - "He Said He Loved Me", the crowd are so hyped that after the track finishes, McClure takes the mic and explains that "we're all going outside" and grabs a parka and is seen rushing off the stage. Cue; 2500 people all heading for the exit at once. It's one way of avoiding an encore, anyhow! There's quite a crush getting out, and we're literally carried along by the weight of the sheer number of bodies and are deposited on the street along with everyone else - hanging around waiting for an impromptu appearance of the band. However, it doesn't happen, and eventually everyone decamps and disappears into the city.

An excellent gig, and - once they get their staffing and logistics act together - a great venue.