Friday 20/10/06 The Raconteurs @ Brixton Academy, London

When erstwhile White Stripe Jack White and criminally-underrated power popper Brendan Benson announced a collaboration back in 2004, the music press folded into paroxysms of joy usually reserved for, say, a new Bob Dylan album. The band, The Raconteurs, formed with the rhythm section of Detroit's The Greenhorns immediately became one of the most eagerly awaited in recent memory, fans praying for a cross between White's primitive garage yelping and the low-fi power pop of Benson.

Despite ludicrous early press dubbing the resulting album, Broken Boy Soldiers "Detroit's answer to Nevermind," when they finally hit the airwaves it was a complete surprise for most – nodding not to the two singer's musical pasts but to 60's and 70 rock, Jeff Beck, Page n' Plant et all. Surprisingly, though, it worked. Neither White nor Benson imposed their presence too much, there were tunes galore, and the busman's holiday the duo appeared to be on seemed to be worryingly permanent.

Live, however, The Raconteurs are an entirely different proposition. Shorn of the constraints of actually – gasp – recording proper songs, the boys turn the amps, the platitudes and the solos up to 11, and don't let up for two hours. Bounding onstage to a squall of feedback, they hurl themselves into a long and complicated prelude to the action, both Benson and White hammering out power chords as if their life depended on it, before the Benson-led 'Level,' one of the night's poppier and better moments.

This sets the tone for the rest of the evening. White and Benson trade vocal duties and ever-increasing guitar breakdowns, punctuated by brief moments of astounding melody, but consistently overshadowed by bouts of unrelenting musical self-indulgence. Benson, a pop writer in the best traditions of The Posies and Matthew Sweet, gets most of the highlights, usually keeping his songs under the five minute mark. White, however, revelling in the ability to cut loose with every kind of Led Zep posture possible just throws down the prog rock gauntlet to the rest of the group, daring them to follow. Invariably, they do.

The Raconteurs are at their best when they just stick to the hymn sheet – a floor shaking 'Steady as She Goes' and the final, gloriously harmonised 'Hands' could sit alongside either one of the band leader's impressive canon of hits. However, too often the band seem to become wrapped up in their own gleeful self-satisfaction, a TEN-MINUTE version of 'Blue Veins' feels like twenty, and an almost unrecognisable cover of Nancy Sinatra's 'Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down)' is astonishing to begin with, but by the fifth verse it becomes a little much. Admittedly, the band only have one album to fall back on, but a capacity crowd surely won't demand their money back if the fret-wanking is kept to a minimum.

It's very obvious all four members of the band are exceptional musicians, (Case and point - White casually knocking out a frantic 'Store Bought Bones' on the keyboard before returning to lead guitar duties) and the band are ear-bleedingly loud, but perhaps it's not worth continually reminding the audience of such. At times this feels like a polished rehearsal room jam rather than a £25 a head concert. It seems a little churlish to criticise what is essentially just a side-project, especially considering that when they are good, The Raconteurs are really, really good, but too often tonight they are all filler, no killer.