Looking like they might be here to buy fish bait or maybe fix somebody's car, Californian five-piece Grandaddy's saunter onstage was fittingly accompanied by the emotional pitches of an angelic choir, a mingling of the melancholic and the celebratory and a perfect primer for the emotional level of the band's music.

Grandaddy are on a mission of sorts, exploring the current state of the human condition, and how it is wrought by both technology and the stifling desolation of rural America. Heavy stuff, perhaps, but singer Jason Lytle's lyrics are full of whimsy as they look for shreds of universal truth in sometimes bizarre themes and imagery: Jed the Humanoid, a narrative about a home-made robot who gets forgotten and kills itself; Broken Household Appliance National Forest - the title speaks for itself. However, at no time do his observations descend into smugness, naval-gazing or winking irony. This is genuine personal observation, warped as it may be.

With a set consisting mostly of songs from their recent album, The Sophtware Slump, Grandaddy surrounded themselves with sweltering synths and gravelly guitars, backed by a giant video screen of assorted images echoing their musical mingling of the pastoral and the technology.

Singer and main songwriter Lytle held court in his designated area, moving from keyboards to guitar, all the while setting the tone with his evocative if a little jarring sub-Neil Young whiny vocals. Highlight of the set was the downtrodden, uplifting, glitch-ridden mini-epic He's Dumb, He's Simple, He's the Pilot, subdued but soaring.

Grandaddy have either stumbled upon or carefully crafted a sound that portends a very bright future for left-of-centre rock music, but their country-boy modesty would never lead you to that conclusion. Retaining a nonchalant calm throughout the set, they soothed and cajoled with their sound rather than trying to overwhelm. Well, their home town is called Modesta.