The Mill, by its very name, lends itself to an unfortunate (not to mention weary) turn of phrase, and is thus at the perennial mercy of a cynical critic. Just as well, then, that it bears little relation to form; The Mill’s weekly showcase of emerging Scottish talent continues to be admired for its emphasis on value for money and presentational nous. The irony, though, is that such a polished setting can place false expectations on the acts themselves, and within the unusually sanitised confines of Cabaret Voltaire, this is sadly the case.

Penguins Kill Polar Bears wipe away the sleep from a traditionally quiet January in earnest fashion; the Lanarkshire quartet enjoy a bright start to their set before two rebellious strings temporarily interrupt their appearance. The foursome quickly get things back on track, albeit to mixed results: while the military stomp of 'Homebound' shows the band at its most capable, and the spindly melody of '3:09' closes their cameo rather nicely, their efforts are undermined by a dogged insistence on irritating emo flourishes and more than a smattering of trite couplets.

Oddly, similar criticisms broadly apply to The Void. Although the Edinburgh quartet seem an altogether more seasoned outfit—exemplified by a nice piece of showmanship at the beginning, where three of the foursome bash and clatter away at their drums—the songwriting is rather workmanlike, with their prosaic loud-quiet-loud structures frequently serving as a shaky foundation for their particular brand of landfill indie.

'Reunion' and 'We’ll Make Our History Part I' provide some respite, but it’s discouraging to see that, even under the flattering spotlight offered by The Mill, The Void are still a work in progress. In their present condition, they're a band you’d be well advised to tip-toe around with a hard hat and a high-viz jacket.