Foo Fighters may still conquer enormodomes, but the power-pop trio seems an anachronistic concept in 2008 – and appropriately, Ash’s heavy hit-making artillery sounds less like a kickass modern-rock unit and more than ever like the young tykes of their fondly remembered debut, 1977. Indeed the passage of time appears to have changed these Irish ‘veterans’ little since they crashed the Britpop party in 1996, brandishing their Buzzcocks and Nirvana records. Lank-haired Mark Hamilton, in particular, boasts the physique of a drainpipe on a diet and isn’t averse to striking a Pete Townshend pose or two, wielding his V-shaped bass like a weapon. Frontman Tim Wheeler, meanwhile, at 31still betrays the wide-eyed charm of a college freshman who’s unexpectedly won a ‘Battle of the Bands’ contest.

Their perma-youthfulness is perhaps surprising for a band that’s been playing together since the early ’90s, but the problem with groups who hit the big time in their teens is that by their late twenties – when many acts record their defining moments – they can already seem passé. Like teen-star contemporaries Hanson and Supergrass, Ash peaked early; since 2001’s widescreen high watermark Free All Angels they’ve continued to plough their indie-punk furrow, releasing increasingly undistinguished albums, and their future has been shrouded in doubt ever since it was announced that their 2007’s Twilight of the Innocents would be their last long-player. 

Free All Angels was their second LP with poster-girl guitarist Charlotte Hatherley, who quit Ash in 2006, and whose absence is now conspicuous both on record and live. The band now sorely lacks a focal point onstage (particularly if you’re a heterosexual male), but more importantly their stage set-up looks empty, bereft of synths, drum machines or any real pyrotechnical panache – a state of affairs hardly helped by a PA system that periodically shuts out the backline. There’s no denying the band still sounds invigorating, Rick ‘Rock’ McMurray’s unflashy, in-the-pocket drumming the perfect foil to Wheeler’s strident power chords. But Wheeler’s stagecraft still needs fine-tuning and his reedy vocals – disguised in the past by canny production techniques and Hatherley’s honey-coated harmonising – are left exposed onstage by the absence of either.

Such nitpicking matters little to the boozy crowd of thirtysomething nostalgists, whose mood on this sultry night has already been lifted by the beer festival just across the park. They’ve come for the hits, and that’s exactly what they get in a set leaning heavily on the soon-to-be-reissued 1977. There’s a rapturous reception for majestic indie nuggets like ‘Goldfinger’, ‘Oh Yeah’ and ‘Girl from Mars’, while ‘Kung Fu’ – transposed somewhat closer to the oriental origins of its inspiration, Jackie Chan – is the song of the night. The bludgeoning nature of Ash’s performance would have been benefited immensely from a sprinkling of the oft-overlooked, string-laden beauties from their catalogue – wistful gems like ‘Gone the Dream’, ‘Folk Song’ and ‘Sometimes’ – and sans Hatherley’s backing vocals, it’s a great shame there’s no room for ‘There’s a Star’ or ‘Envy’, two of this decade’s most electrifyingly complete Brit-rock songs.

Ash’s art largely eschews mystique or subtlety for pure power-pop thrills, and their most recent material – ‘You Can’t Have It All’, new song ‘Ichiban’ – barely deviates from the punk-infused template that’s their calling card. Whatever your age or musical preference, though, it’s hard not to feel a rush of youthful excitement as soundtrack rocker ‘A Life Less Ordinary’ (the eponymous theme from the Ewan McGregor/Cameron Diaz movie) segues into arguably their crowning moment, the Novello award-winning stunner ‘Shining Light’.

But it’s not until the very last song of the night that we hear a tantalising glimpse of any real musical progression, as keyboards usher in six-minute epic ‘Twilight of the Innocents’. The album-closer’s symphonic sweep becomes this likable trio and could have signposted intriguing new directions. But you can’t help feeling that as far as this show – perhaps even their career – is concerned, it’s too little, too late. Jonathan Evans