AS a man of near 40 years I should no longer like this monstrous cacophony.

I should view their lyrics with disdain, I should mock the fist-clenching, tub-thumping of their heavily-tattooed frontman, I should close my ears to the industrial strength of what passes for music.

But do you know what? I just can't.

As I teenager, and much to the chagrin of my mother, I found myself listening to the likes of Anthrax, Testament and Slayer. In my formative years, thrash metal was the soundtrack to my life, it pervaded every minute of every day.

Nowadays, though their words are no longer relevant, though my body will no longer stand up to the rigours of the mosh-pit and though my ears will still be ringing in a week's time, there remains a fascination to me about something so wondrously ugly.

And few do 'wondrously ugly' as well and as loud as Machine Head.

After a relatively slow start, the California quartet shook the 02 to its foundations with a performance spanning their entire back catalogue.

The crowd, testosterone-fuelled youngsters to the front, aging metallers to the back, were well and truly warmed up by stateside hardcore outfit Hatebreed – all anger, passion and energy.

Initially, Machine Head, coming towards the end of a long and winding headline tour that has taken in most of Europe before climaxing in Japan and Australia, failed to match the levels of their understudies, but as Robb Flynn et al worked through the likes of Imperium, Take My Scars and the 'never-before performed in the UK' Spine they came into their own.

Trademark melodic parts lacked some clarity and some of Flynn's vocals were lost in the melee, but this did nothing to dampen either the band or the crowd's affection for each other.

By the time they got to Aesthetics of Hate, the floor of the venue was reverberating wildly and the moshers were in full flight, charging around in riotous fashion, dodging the inevitable plastic cups containing liquid other than what they were intended for.

Regular interludes threatened to break-up the rhythm, but the band always managed to maintain the outwardly intimidating but inwardly friendly atmosphere, signing off with crowd-pleasers Halo and Davidian.

Raucously beautiful.