Towers Of London, Mean Fiddler, London <!-- none onestar twostar threestar fourstar fivestar -->

Given the mayhem on their reality TV show, the shock is that these rabble-rousers finish a set unscathed.

When Towers of London appeared two years ago, they were hailed as Britain's answer to Mötley Crüe: all booze, drugs and hairspray. Now that the satellite channel Bravo is running a series on the group's exploits, they are in danger of being seen as a more lairy Spinal Tap. A YouTube clip shows them roughing up a guy in Peterborough. You admire their guts for walking round in the early hours dressed as a Hanoi Rocks tribute band, but this is hardly ground-shaking stuff.

Their documentary's collage of sulks, tantrums and blown amps was filmed in the run-up to the June release of their debut album Blood, Sweat And Towers, which limped to 80-something in the charts. Now they have returned to square one and a support slot with the hoary Swedish rockers Backyard Babies gives them a chance to show that they retain their rock credentials. On this showing, either the editing of their exploits was somewhat partial or the band have emerged from a difficult period stronger.

Credit must go to the singer Donny Tourette. Having missed a couple of dates through illness, he is back to his best, walking across the crowd held up by fans and balancing on monitors. If the cameras were rolling, you know he would have collapsed into the drum kit, yet now every stunt goes to plan.

Around him, his fellow Towers match him for daftness, with equally rampant bouffants. Bassist Tommy Brunette gurns happily, while lead axe-wielder Rev sways to the front to deliver a sharp, short solo. Here is a band determined to get back to basics, a strategy that pays dividends on their most lumpen anthems.

Choruses generally have no more than three words, though the band show they can write a hook on "How Rude She Was". The pace slows at the beginning of "Northern Lights", a decent stab at a lighters-aloft ballad in the manner of Poison. It's a shame, then, that the Towers only have enough confidence to accelerate to their generic glam punk thrashalong. The joins may be easy to miss in this brief smack around the chops, but they are just visible.

Everything they do is a throwback to misbehavers from the past. Indeed, the band have tipped their hats to the Sex Pistols, New York Dolls and Guns N' Roses, though their pedestrian riffage owes more to Sham 69 and Billy Idol's punk outfit Generation X. They have swagger enough, but no venom to set them apart.