Wonderful concept, Labour Day. Built on the premises of an eight-hour day and having the odd public holiday to just relax and lounge about in the sun. And so, this Labour Day, that's exactly what NoiZenik did: hopped on down to the King's Arms tavern's 'Labour Day Experiment', five bands in eight hours under the springtime sun afforded by the outdoor Garden Bar surrounds and some dazzling holiday weekend weather.

Allegedly 'acoustic' but amped to the eyeballs, Jester's afternoon-opening set corners the market in juvenile novelty pop with drummer Wesley beating out a tattoo on cymbals and snare behind a jangling wall of twin guitars. A few covers dotted amongst quirky original numbers woo the still small gathering of patrons.

Polaar are on superb form, their shimmering pop repertoire all bells and 80s synth whistles. Sparkly, spangly and produced to the nines, churning out squeaky retro-a-go-go good time hits. As always, those crazy Polaar kids swap their instruments like children in a toystore, effortlessly brandishing tune after bop-along tune.

Late-afternoon shadows fall over Cabbage Bomber's customary fake fur and racing parkas as they take to the makeshift grass stage. Swinging from You're a Sun's delicate pop to the lo-fi delights of 4-track VCR, with their swooning melodies today crecendoing in a surging Raise A Pint launching the 'Bomber to stratospheric proportions.

As the sunlight subsides to dusky haze, the mighty Delta rock juggernaut half-swagger, half-stagger through powerhouse deliveries of Crazy Shit and a most stonking Slather. An explosive performance, not least for the dear departed bass amp, blowing quite spectacularly in the flourishes of Saturday Night at Stratford Speedway in truly rock'n'roll style.

Shaft rock the evening away and amass a crowd of punters going fifth-form-bogan-moshers mental to their distinctly addled sound. Taking a barrage of well-worn rock riffage, turned upside-down with organ-laced, frenzied rock action. Encasing a rendition of Dead Moon's Evil Eye in wantonly debauched licks, kicking out seventeen varieties of jams. Through the failing twilight to the faintly moonlit night, Shaft rock the joint (and the noise-ban) with a pumping, passionate intensity and delicious layers of white-noise feedback action.