Institute, Cargo, London

Now the group is officially "on ice", though "sunk without trace" would be more like it. Rossdale has moved into films, with a cameo in Constantine. Tonight, though, he has sought credibility with a bunch of real Americans, set to release their album Distort Yourself later this month.

For a washed-up rock star, Rossdale glowed with health, all tanned and muscled. When he pogo-ed, his legs seemed to be spring-loaded, while his ease when balanced on a monitor hinted at yoga as part of his West Coast lifestyle. Then, with a messianic spread of the arms, the singer showed he still had much to say.

With a couple of references to paranoia, Rossdale tapped into rock's current interest in self-loathing and dislocation. Not that the expat's writing was up to the task. On the forthcoming single "Bullet-Proof Skin", the prosaic ("Burn, baby, burn") rubbed up against the impenetrable ("It's just like Christmas in Hollywood"). Between songs, he displayed a similar inarticulacy.

Rossdale tried to explain why he had been away for so long, but the best he managed was a wide-eyed: "I've found a band I can work magic with." At least he had found friends who shared his sense of self-importance. While British rockers can be too self-conscious to get away with this shtick, Institute's drummer and bass-player earnestly ploughed on. Only the guitarist, Chris Traynor, allowed himself the odd impish smile, but then his colossal, grinding riffs underpinned the set.

Traynor joined this band from Helmet, the group that better than any other had pared back rock's mechanics to their bare essentials. Then they added exotic tunings and queasy time signatures to mirror their feelings of alienation. There were hints of that in the drawn-out "Wasteland" and "Come On Over". Such tame efforts were hampered by lack of tune, and Rossdale's characterless voice soon grated.

He could actually sing, and nearly proved as much when he performed solo Bush's "Glycerine". Having struggled to match his group's crushing delivery, Rossdale's vocals finally wavered. The crowd continued their warm response to the old hits "Everything Zen" and "Machinehead".

Institute could perform these with more precision than Bush, but Rossdale's earliest tunes always had enough swagger to seduce. Die-hard fans may have celebrated his return, but then all he had to offer was a reminder of former glories.