Rarely do you see so much of a rock star's tongue on a first date. Craig Nicholls - the dreamy, mop-haired missing link between Julian Casablancas, Danny Goffey and Evan from 'The Secret Life Of Us' - has two modes while onstage. One: eyelids drooping, head lolling, stoned to the point of inner magnificence. And two: screaming, mouth wide, in a voice that starts several miles away and ends up in a howl that sounds like Black Francis being strangled by Kurt Cobain.

You'll have heard the gathering hype about The Vines by now: proclaimed "The Australian Strokes"; raised to "the perfect synthesis of The Beatles and Nirvana" at the start of 2002. Well, breathe out and rejoice, because every syllable is true. This feels like a landmark gig, one of those classic moments that many will claim to have been at and throughout its forty five glorious minutes, Craig and his compadres make your heart stop with bursts of fury, beauty and every self indulgent emotion in between.

But first a word from our sponsors tonight: over-enthusiasm and desperation. A few weeks back support band The Libertines were proclaimed to be the future in black leather, the most exciting British band alive today. This is nonsense, a case of yet another piece of shit being thrown at the wall in the hope that something will stick. They start off as Sham 69 paying tribute to These Animal Men, morph into a pub rocker's idea of The Jam and flail around from then on.

They're relentlessly OK, a band who've been thrust into the limelight because the singer could scrape eighth in a Julian C lookalike contest. Only when the second singer takes over and they pull a brilliant Blur/Elastica tinged handbrake turn do they seem like a group worth hanging in with. Full of angular flourishes and blessed with a chorus of "the girls get them out for the boys in the band", it's gloriously cheeky, a cut above. Now all they have to do is write a whole set of songs like that.

No such problems with The Vines who are - this is not a drill, repeat, this is not a drill! -the real fuckking deal. A few weeks back in Sydney, during two low key pub shows, they were almost like two bands a rockin' Stooges/Lemonheads trio to begin with, then a fantastic country/spacerock four piece with the addition of a lanky pal on acoustic guitar. Tonight, they have it sussed. They powerpop through the infectious single 'Highly Evolved' straight off, as if to get any local hyped reference points out of the way first, then pace the fast and loud and slow and mind-blowing perfectly.

There are times when The Vines do feel like Nirvana had they overdosed on pocket symphonies. 'Autumn Shade' is awash with languid brilliance, Craig sighing "I could sleep for days" as the band chase the ghosts of Big Star and Brian Wilson. 'Country Mile' unravels with a shiver, swapping lazy wisdom with Tim Buckley and The La's. And the gorgeously sprawling stoner anthem 'Mary Jane' builds slowly to a point of utter serenity and then, just when it should stop, carries on going and going.

Then just to prove they can do whatever they please, they take a laidback stroll through Outkast's 'Ms Jackson', turning it into Teenage Fanclub's 'Everything Flows' as they go. Fucking hell. Critical faculties blown, reduced to dumbstruck expletives, as Craig's voice rasps "me and your daughter got a special thing going on". Their own '1969' is even better, a magnificent synthesis of growling garage rock and epic melodicism with Craig admitting that "it's 1969 in my head/I'm living through the sounds of the dead." Amazing, truly amazing.

Ignore everything you've heard about any other group before. The Vines are the best new band on the planet bar none. You will kill to be at a gig like this in six months. They play Nottingham tonight and Bristol tomorrow. You know what to do.