Never mind the music, the demographic is extraordinary. It's often said that nu- metal recruits its fans from adolescents, who take solace in noisy angst around the same time they start experiencing faint depression, the strange allure of the colour black and worrying vibes towards the opposite sex.

It's a persuasive theory, but one which is comprehensively shot out of the water by tonight's remarkable Linkin Park show. A significant proportion of the crowd are far too young to have ever seen the inside of a secondary school, let alone a rock venue.

There are nine-year-olds everywhere, gently moshing in formation whilst their parents stand discreetly behind them. At an age where traditional marketing strategies suggest they should be gingerly approaching pop music for the first time, they're already informed and fanatical consumers.

This, of course, is something that LA's Linkin Park, possibly the biggest metal band to emerge since Limp Bizkit, are scrupulously aware of. On a cynical level, it means that those all-important merchandise stalls are far more numerous than bars in the Docklands Arena. On a more morally satisfying plane, it means that this slickly impressive six-piece have shaped an evening that's ideal for the thousands of first-time gig-goers who constitute their audience.

So we get the nu-grunge of Limp Bizkit proteges Puddle Of Mudd, the broadly comical goth-metal theatre of Adema, and the odd announcement by Linkin Park frontman Chester Bennington, who seems to be carrying out a masterclass in conscientious moshing. The mantra for the evening is, "If someone falls down, PICK THEM UP!" which Bennington regularly makes the crowd repeat. The aim is for a massive emotional and physical release without any emotional or physical pain the essence, in fact, of Linkin Park's exhilarating, if sanitised, performance.

But first, there's a swift education in the rudiments of hip-hop that the headliners will desecrate later. LA's Dilated Peoples emerged a couple of years back as part of the old-school, socially responsible underground hip-hop scene lead by Jurassic 5. Their values remain intact much of the brief set is taken up with a scratching demonstration by DJ Babu but what price street credibility when you're being carted round Europe as a token of authenticity?

The crowd loves Dilated Peoples, of course, not least because Linkin Park's rapper Mike Shinoda has just told them to. Levels of obedience here are unparalleled: when a crew member scolds everyone for throwing plastic bottles around, he only need threaten the non-appearance of Linkin Park for an instant ceasefire.

Then they're here, jumping on and off boy-band-style platforms at the front of the stage so that even the smallest fans can see. Really, it's hard to imagine a band with a more flawless design for musical domination right now. It's there in the judicious use of scratching and electronics, in how headphone-sporting guitarist Brad Delson carves out those keening riffs reminiscent of U2, before every song explodes into a huge, chest-beating anthem.

Linkin Park's great gift is that they offer something for everyone, without leaving anyone feeling cheated. Shinoda is a far more talented rapper than most of his metal contemporaries (especially the idiot Durst). But it's the way his rhyming locks together with Bennington's classic rock bellow, the sprung power of the whole band that, on the likes of 'Runaway' and the exceptional 'Papercut' can leave you gasping.

The tidyness of it all can also leave you a little suspicious of Linkin Park's pragmatism, mind, as if their whole show was conceived in focus groups rather than rehearsal rooms. Nevertheless, there's something endearingly well-meaning about them that transcends Bennington regularly telling us how "beautiful" we are.

Linkin Park offer a precision-tooled catharsis to a generation who never realised they needed one until they heard 'Crawling'. Rage with parameters and a non-negotiable curfew, perhaps, but to so many of these ears, it must sound like the most revolutionary thing in the world.

John Mulvey

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