Oasis for the indie crowd

Having spent too many nights sharing bottles of cheap house wine in bland City bars, my friends and I decided to liven up our midweek meetings. Suffering from an overdose of bland house music, we decided to head to the Notting Hill Arts Club, home of all nights edgy and fun, from electronica to funk to soul.

We wanted live indie music with a bit of bite, and that's what is on offer every Wednesday at the club's Death Disco night. Curated by Oasis ex-manager and music supremo Alan McGee, the evening is a weekly platform to help unsigned bands break into the big time - and our chance to catch the stars of the future in an intimate venue.

At 9pm one balmy Wednesday evening we head down into the small underground club, years ago used as a bank vault. To the right at the bottom of the stairs is the dark dancefloor, with a few random armchairs strewn around. To the left is the stage, some battered sofas and the small round bar.

Since opening its doors nine years ago NHAC has been a mainstay of west London's cool crowd without ever being pretentious. There's no ridiculous dress code, no door policy for the wealthy elite and no silly entrance fees: tonight is free until 8pm, then £7.

Although regular performers include the likes of Lupe Fiasco, Sway and DJ Mark Ronson, unknown acts are just as welcome on stage.

I buy a round of beers (at a very unclub-like £3 each) as the first band explodes into life. They are Turismo, a six-piece indie rock ska band from Hull, who with their recently added brass section sound like the lovechild of Blur and The Specials.

I expected at least a bit of moshing but the crowd are pretty conservative movers. Perhaps these exceedingly cool customers are worried they might ruin their directional hair-dos, for this is a zoo of teased peroxide hair, scarlet nails and lips, pork pie hats, skinny jeans, battered Converse, plus lashings and lashings of attitude.

Some of these punters, who range from their teens to their thirties, are so hip it hurts. Afterwards, as we wait for our coffee tequila shots at the bar I start talking to a small group at the bar.

One girl, a jewellery designer in a sexy leopard-print dress, has been turning heads all night. Her travel writer man friend tells me this was their second visit to NHAC. And the verdict? It's "pretty f***ing cool" is their considered opinion.

Aside from the odd bit of art, the interior of the club is completely bare and has plaster peeling off the walls. It's not that it's dingy, but so that each promoter has a blank canvas with which to work their magic. Tonight the club is bathed in red and yellow light, the words "Death Disco" projected on the walls.