Sheep On Drugs. You've heard the name. Now, alas, you can no longer ignore them. The scrawny duo has been playing live on the indie/industrial borderline for three years, and the fruit of their labours is the surprisingly good second album On Drugs (Island) out last week. Their time comes on 18 June when they play the London Astoria.

The Sheep (right) are far better live than on record. There is something utterly un-groovy about their brand of clattering rhythm tracks and urgent, sneering vocals. This hardly qualifies as dance music. They could easily be dismissed as a sad and feeble copy of the Young Gods, with all the hollow pretension of the Manic Street Preachers. In short, Sigue Sigue Sputnik all over again.

Live, however, you get to see their unique selling point, which is also the saving grace of any good rebellious act they just don't care. Lee, with his Krazy Koloured hair, plays savage metal riffs on guitar, while Duncan, the bald vocalist, is wont to stride the stage in a dress and black strap-on dildo.

Members of the audience are invited to skank about in a line along the front of the stage, only to be abused and sent back if Lee thinks they don't look right. Not being one to waste time separating the sheep from the goats, he's been known to send them all packing for the sake of one dreadful loser.

The name comes from their original insult to music fans - you are all sheep on drugs. The Sheep have been bubbling under for so long that their fans have grown into a phenomenon. The fans call themselves the Drugs Squad, dress kinky, and go to every gig, just like the dreary Deadheads or Mission fans.

But Sheep On Drugs don't care. Their look and sound - bedsit metal with industrial beats that are about as authentic as a heritage centre will be enough to get them noticed. This is music for masochists. Go along and see if they care.

(Photograph omitted)