Perhaps it’s a reaction to all those smoky, mooching trip-hoppers that shambled out of their city throughout the 90s. Maybe an aggressive streak lurks behind their shy façade. Whatever drives them, Bristolian electronica duo Fuck Buttons make one hell of a noise, a jagged synth titan of a roar.

They look so unassuming too, Benjamin John Power obscured by baseball cap and massive bottle of water, Andrew Hung summoning a perfunctory wave as they sidle on after a blistering support set from glitch kid Clark and a funky DJ turn from veteran (and current Fuck Buttons producer) Andrew Weatherall.

Latest album Tarot Sport isn’t a huge shift of emphasis from the proggy electronics of last year’s Street Horrrsing, but Surf Solar, opening Tarot Sport and the show, is a tangible step forward. Chattering effects swell into a dancefloor monster, kicking Fuck Buttons’ more meandering predilections into touch in favour of acid mantra. It’s a blast and sets a pace, and volume, that doesn’t flag all night.

For a band that zips and flashes like the sonic embodiment of laser beams, it’s a while before the light show gets going, modest spotlights shining on a lonely looking mirrorball for the first few songs – but Bright Tomorrow’s cut-up synths and cyber-woodwind see green shards firing all over, taking at least one bare-chested chap back to his rave days.

It’s a fair mixture of albums one and two, Tarot Sport pivoting the set with the spacey chords of The Lisbon Maru and setting us back on dry land with Olympians’ quasi-soft-rock shimmers and blusters; Street Horrrsing giving up encore and last-dance Sweet Love For Planet Earth. Power screams into his distorting mic, but no one’s shocked. For all the deafening techno riffs, the vast towers of sound, the confrontational name, Fuck Buttons are easy company. Good, inventive, electro pals.