“Drum is not dead”, say the Liars. “Good”, I say. “What?”, say Steve Reid, Chris Corsano and Paal Nilsen Love, “Did you say something?”

There is a rather long and frustrating story to tell about Steve Reid's recent re-release from the Pizza Express circuit. I'm not sure this is the time or place, or that I am the best person to tell it. Whatever, he's served his time, he's paid his dues, he's made it to (co) headline status over two of the most exciting young (s'all relative) drummers that drum on planet Drum..

The Thing carpet bombed the Scala with their bass heavy LOUDER THAN THIS mathy avant jazz. While Mats Gustafson sprayed the audience with the full known range of honks and squeaks, and a considerable amount of phlegm especially for those fortunate enough to be in the front row, Paal Nilsen Love drummed like a protractor, all angles and precision. More thrilling live than on record, in full flight they were riotous, although occasionally the funk felt forced.

A version of Six Organs of Admittance followed, and for the second time this week I found myself watching Chris Corsano, John Moloney and Ben Chasny (no Thurston tonight). A very different show tonight. Corsano and Moloney formed a two drummer defensive wall to hack clear Chasny's guitar figures. While it is clear from the records (last year's School of the Flower being an outstanding example) that Chasny is a fine guitarist, I will admit to being completely taken aback by the controlled power he demonstrated tonight. Such glorious feedback, filling the room like a concerto. The two drummer line up seemed a little superfluous - Corsano counts double anyway, and it was only on a final ragged assault on “Saint Cloud” that he was able to stretch out a little.

The Hebden and Reid show (and it is a show; all nods and winks, grins and chuckles) to my ears has run its course. I found their partnership exciting in its improvisational infancy; but now found it somewhat over-rehearsed and way over-long. “Stay in the rhythms!”, Steve Reid used to shout; he stayed in a few too comfortable rhythms for longer than necessary last night. By the end of the show, Kieran was playing with some sharp splinters of sound, and tricking the crowd with shadows and echoes of some of his Four Tet tracks.

Both men finished smiling and pointing at each other; I was tiring and pointing towards the exit.

Drum is not dead. Sometimes it does need a bit of a lie down and a cup of tea though.