I Am Kloot, ICA London

They aren't a household name yet, but I Am Kloot are building up a head of steam. Last October, the Manchester three-piece played a sold-out show at the sizeable Shepherd's Bush Empire, in London, even though their eponymously titled sophomore album from 2003 received little press. This barely publicised ICA show sold out, too, and the band's singer-guitarist, Johnny Bramwell - a short man with a big talent and an instant audience rapport forged from years of busking and playing in Manchester clubs as Johnny Dangerously - even found himself on Radio 4 with Iain Duncan Smith recently. "Why?" someone asks. "Money, mate," Bramwell grins, rubbing his fingers together with an impish glint in his eye.

If there's justice, Bramwell ought to be recognised before too long as one of the most distinctive songwriters in current British music. The likes of Noel Gallagher are among his band's admirers, and the Oasis leader would do well to take a leaf from Kloot's book. The latter's songs are no less everyman-ish than Oasis's, but their lyrics make sense, and they boast grace and tact as well as hooks.

Wit, warmth and a knack for a killer one-liner are bound up in the lyrics, often with a potent streak of ambiguity. (Bramwell comes from Hyde, east Manchester, and you can read whatever Jekyll-and-Hyde conno-tations you want into that.) Tonight's opener, "Twist", features the line: "There's blood on your legs; I love you", which raises plenty of questions: is the blood the result of the obvious, or some unpleasantness? And what's the connection between the blood and that "I love you"? On the fabulously fractured ballad "From Your Favourite Sky", he sings: "Do you wail? Do you weep? Do you sing yourself to sleep? You delicate flower." There's no mistaking the tenderness in his rasp, but is there a sense of frustration as well?

A cursory listen reveals nothing special about the band's bass-drums-guitar set-up, but between them, the parts slowly, discreetly shade in the sound. One minute, Kloot can sound like the Twin Peaks bar band, with noirish guitars and clattering drums creating an impeccable moodscape; the next, they sound like the house band in a working men's club having a crack at a calypso tune. And they can roll out an epic with tremendous feeling - as on the blissful "Because", which sounds not unlike Doves' "The Cedar Room" and is sung so beautifully by Bramwell that the line, "Kill me before you die," makes your spine tingle.

Bramwell and his bandmates are called back for an encore, and they don't often do that kind of thing. For all Bramwell's wry patter, he's visibly moved, and he's not the only one in the room. Kloot's careful songcraft and undemonstrative presentation may make for a slow route to success, but they're a band who'll be loved with a passion by those who find them.