Tonight, London’s Old Blue Last becomes the destination point of a pilgrimage like few others, a teeny crowd of just 200 privy to Glassjaw’s first UK show in four long years. There aren’t many bands who could stroll on stage after that time away and cast out an opener as powerful as ‘Tip Your Bartender’ with nary more than a shrug. But then there aren’t many bands quite like Glassjaw.

Things hit warp speed in seconds, ‘…Bartender’ giving way to ‘Mu Empire”s fluttering intro and allowing the New York quartet’s latest rhythm section to prove their worth. It’s a greatest hits set from there on out as the band pour out ‘Pink Roses’, ‘Ape Dos Mil’ and ‘The Gillette Cavalcade Of Sports’ in quick succession. No time for pleasantries, no time for chatter; not a word is uttered between powerhouse hits, the shuffling intro to ‘You Think You’re John Fucking Lennon’ the only breathing space permitted.

The crowd, predictably, bring the madness. East London’s premiere sweatbox lives up to its reputation, a sea of soggy outstretched palms greeting frontman Daryl Palumbo’s every cry. By the time ‘Siberian Kiss’ gets an airing, a besuited bouncer is forced to take to the stage to quell the chaos. After a half-hearted attempt to shift a speaker back into place, he retreats, relinquishing control to the throng.

After that, something special occurs. A band more elusive than a Donald Trump apology lay themselves bare in one of the most intimate, stripped back surroundings London offers. A venue usually reserved for those taking their first steps becomes ploughed soil for the seeds of hardcore’s finest as they return to the throne, debuting songs from a new record that many thought would never emerge.