So, you've got emo, trip-hop and electro-klash. At the Dome Concert Hall, Feeder brought their own genre to the party.

It's called ordinary rock. Meat-and-two-veg, heads-down, emotional, paint-by-numbers, mid-table, indie grunge with just enough of that new-fangled dance sound to justify its existence in the 21st Century.

Standard-bearers of the genre are the bizarrely over-applauded Coldplay, with whom Feeder vie for the "nicest band in pop" award.

And the strange thing? It works. Mostly.

Minutes after they stepped on to the gilded stage, the Dome erupted in a sea of teenage hands. The plush velvet seats disappeared under a tidal wave of kohl-eyed girls in crop tops and scruffy young chaps in tattered nu-metal T-shirts and terribly expensive designer-trash jeans.

After five albums, the suicide of drummer Jon Lee and four years in the shallows, it took the stadium sheen of Top Five hit Buck Rogers to catapult these gently-spoken Welsh indie minnows on to the front pages of Kerrang!.

In tribute, singer Grant Nicholas politely requested everyone sing along as they launch into its growling Pixies-esque riff.

By the time they reached the chorus - "I've got a CD player" - the venue went into meltdown.

The rest of the gig rattled by mixing anthemic ballads (the kids still waved lighters) and jump-up-and-down bubblegum rock.

Playing in front of a projected cine-screen featuring video snaps and psychedelic film shorts, Feeder proved they still have the power to fizzle.

Many of the lyrics on their latest album, Comfort Of Sounds, focus on the band's response to Jon's suicide.

And there remains a general sense of ghosts being laid to rest. In one touching moment, picked out by a single spotlight, Grant strummed through a confessional farewell:

"I miss you more than words can say."

But for all the broken-fingered solos, explosive bursts of noise and expert percussion from replacement drummer Mark Richardson (formerly of Skunk Anansie), Feeder couldn't help but be frighteningly tame and, well, ordinary.