Kings of Leon : 10 July London Camden Electric Ballroom and 11 July London Charing Cross Road Astori

When the Kings Of Leon stride on stage at just after half nine on a sweltering Thursday evening, pandemonium doesn't even begin to describe the response. When, having ruffled their hair a few times and plugged in their guitars, they begin to drill their way through 'Molly's Chamber', the delirium is right up there with any gig you've ever been to in your life.


And, for the most part, it's thoroughly justified. 'Youth And Young Manhood' is an classic debut. Fresh, vibrant and wiry, it might reactivate a template pioneered by The Strokes (and whatever anyone says, the similarities are too obvious to ignore), but it does so with a defiant twist and personality of its own. We're talking more Creedence Clearwater Revival than The Velvet Underground, but there's nothing wrong with that. The question now, though, is: what next?


Partly because of their extreme youth and partly because of the speed at which they've risen, there's almost been no time to stop and contemplate what's going on around them, and it seems like tonight's gig at the Electric Ballroom is when the enormity of what's happened finally hits them.


Like The Strokes, their chosen method of attack on stage is: song, song, song, thank you, song. Frontman Caleb Followill isn't a massive fan of idle banter. He confesses to us 24 hours later that's because he's never been so nervous in his life. Right now, though, as the four of them rattle through 'Wasted Time' and 'Spiral Staircase', you do yearn for a little more interaction. It also makes you realise how relatively inexperienced the Kings are as a live act. They've still got so much growing to do at a time when they're meant to be the greatest thing on the planet. If nothing else, their setlist - they finish with a slightly underwhelming 'Trani' - could do with an overhaul. Afterwards, there's a party at Singapore Sling just over the road. There, the four Lion Kings finally look relaxed, throwing their hands in the air and dancing to a typically exuberant DJ set from the Queens Of Noize. You get the feeling they're glad to have gotten that one out of the way.


The following night at the Astoria, the bedlam has been cranked another notch, but this time the band seem ready for it. Caleb - flanked by the bobbing hairballs of bassist Jared and guitarist Matthew Followill - looks more at home, as he sandpapers his way through the likes of 'Holy Roller Novocaine' and a brilliant 'California Waiting'. The reaction is again amazing, but this time there's an edge and energy to the band's performance that trumps the night before on every level. At the Astoria, they actually do sound like world-beaters.


Afterwards, the atmosphere in their dressing room is celebratory. Champagne is being passed around (the Kings take a polite sip and get back to smoking) and the room isn't swamped with fashionistas. Caleb tells us how surreal he's found the last 48 hours at precisely the moment that Bryan Adams walks into the room to tell the band how much he enjoyed the show. The Followills dutifully pose with him and talk to him about, well, who knows?


Having asked us in a slightly concerned voice what Scotland's like (they play T In The Park the next day), the band decide what they really want to do is party. Having rounded up a hunting party, they walk 200 yards round the corner to the Metro Club and straight into a sweltering indie disco. At which point - as the night's first Smiths song comes on - NME will draw a line under proceedings.


Young, gauche but frequently brilliant, the Kings aren't a group about to wilt under the pressure of success. They realise - like everyone around them - that there's still some way to go yet. Give them 12 more months and they'll be there. It's worth noting they're already planning to start on album two. Now, that is going to be some record.


James Oldham