Gene

MARTIN Rossiter is in an unenviable position: caught between Britpop and a hard place. He must prove to the world that his band's music can still have meaning and magic, and he must also dispel the Smiths comparisons which have dogged Gene's career thus far.

As the band came onstage at Temple Bar's Music Centre last night, it was clear that Rossiter was unwilling to become the media's whipping boy, and he came on like a fighter who was beaten but not yet broken.

There was a lot at stake in this particular bout, because Gene are releasing their second album, Drawn To The Deep End, and they've poured all their pent up emotion into their new songs, hoping that their loyal audience will keep the faith, and that the unconverted will finally give themselves up to sweet surrender. It's a daring gamble, but it's the only one Gene can play, because the unspeakable alternative is to simply admit the game is up. And Martin Rossiter is not one to betray his beliefs in exchange for shallow credibility.

As the strains of Be My Light, Be My Guide echoed awkwardly in the venue's shadows, it seemed Rossiter might be holding back on his Morrissey stance, keeping his voice low and loose, and minimising grand gestures. It plainly doesn't suit him, and as he tore through the recent single, Fighting Fit, it was plain that he was champing at the bit. Just like Damon Albarn doing Beetlebum, Rossiter rebelling against his inherent style, but you can't help wishing he'd just let loose.

Sleep Well Tonight provides a hint of the heights which Gene are capable of, and the song's aching chorus hits the solar plexus with a satisfying punch. Where Are They Now reaches deeper than Gene have ever gone before, but the question remains whether the pop fans are willing to follow. "Play Wonderwall!" shouts a lad, to which Rossiter replies: "Sorry, no, we only play songs." One of their earliest songs, For The Dead, nearly brings things to life, but Haunted By You brings the chilling realisation that Gene still have many ghosts to exorcise.

The black backdrop exploded into a constellation of stars for Speak To Me Someone, and the band finally hit its stride, leaving lonely comet trails in its wake.

Sub Rosa was a brave attempt to reach a higher level, and Long Sleeves For The Summer made a good stab at lighting the darker corners of the soul, but as the feeble effort of Olympian wafted into indifference, it was obvious that Gene had fallen far short of the godlike salvation they seem so desperate to reach.