The buzz is already about, thanks to some nifty merchandise promotion and a dozen or so MP3s available on their website (the excellently named www.youknowsit.co.uk). The GLC, as the collective commonly abbreviate themselves to, are a nine-strong crew of Newport townies who specialise in eighties flavoured rap, largely concentrating on themes of weed (smoking, selling, delivering) and anal sex (performing of).

The Hammersmith Apollo is impressively full for a support band, clearly word of mouth has led to a certain level of anticipation. Indeed, a number of people appear to be here at a Super Furry Animals gig purely for the Welsh hip hoppers. Bedecked in what can only be described as 'council chic', the group fill the stage, mics in hand, and proceed to rap roughshod through a series of DAT-based backing tracks. The beats are very much of an old-skool style, basic, yet suitably infectious.

In a way, the GLC are like the reverse Darkness; people watch initially sure that they're in on the joke. By the end, there's an uncomfortable sense that these boys actually mean everything they do and say. These horrendous tracksuits aren't a joke; the scally style isn't a joke, and the drug-munched small-town antics they rap about certainly aren't. In fact, if the GLC rise to a certain level of success, the joke will squarely be on us. Yes, it is funny; in parts it's hilarious. And on songs like the forthcoming Must Destroy (yes, home of the Darkness) single 'Half-Man, Half Machine', it reaches an almost sublime idiot-savant genius.

Not that you can hear much tonight - the sound at the Hammersmith as usual is dubious and it's very hard to make out the words that between expletives spill out of the GLC's mouths. Occasionally, you make out words and phrases like "Soddom Hussain" (or that might just be me…) but fans - very much in attendance already -clearly take knowledge of the music to the gigs, rather than vice versa. But tonight's live performance is irrelevant. A minor idiot phenomenon has taken hold, and it will certainly last until October. They have the merch (dodgy two-stripe market-style trackie tops), catch phrases ('safe as fuck' and 'you knows it!') and a bag load of ripped-off tunes ('21 Seconds' and Marvin Gaye's 'Sexual Healing' to begin with). Plus, you get to choose which one's your favourite. Mine was the one who looked like Shane from Boyzone, after his rock makeover.

My advice to you, fair punter, is catch it while it's still funny; of course the GLC won't care whichever way the taste-barometer swings in the next 12 months. As far as they're concerned, the band will always be safe as fuck.

You knows it.