Ash, Liquid Rooms, Edinburgh

So, did they play all the singles? Well no, not all of them, given that they’ve released 26 of the buggers in the past year alone, frisbeeing one out every fortnight in the sort of kamikaze experiment contemplated by only the truly inspired or the slightly desperate. Ash, on the evidence of last night's gig, might just be a bit of both.

In one respect this immensely likeable band provide a window into the future. Having kicked around since the mid-1990s with no little success, after being dropped by Warner Brothers in 2008 they decided to go it alone. Setting up their own label and website, they cooked up the idea of releasing a new single, available by download, every two weeks between October 2009 and October 2010, and pulled it off with some aplomb. Ash's "A-Z Series" might just be a template for how bands will start to function in coming years.

So much for the pioneering spirit. On the other hand, as the concert showed, Ash are and always will be the band who provided the soundtrack to the uni disco circa 1995. Their music is a kind of catch-all composite of that time: a more polite Pixies, a less idiosyncratic Dinosaur Jr, a Nirvana riff here, a Teenage Fanclub harmony there.

They looked like they’ve been stuck in a time capsule, too. Singer Tim Wheeler – in his skinny jeans, white sneakers and anonymous T-shirt – has barely aged at all, still the embodiment of the cute guy lurking at the back of the lecture hall; bass player Mark Hamilton (the living, breathing answer to the eternal maths-rock question: what is the sum of Sid Vicious and The Cure's Simon Gallup?) threw some heroically hackneyed rock'n'roll postures, and even second guitarist Russell Lissack, best known for being a member of Bloc Party, seemed to have regressed into a 15-year-old.

Nonetheless, Ash in 2010 remain a more vibrant proposition than they probably have any right to be. The songs that make up the "A-Z Series" show a band liberated by their evolution into a self-sufficient cottage industry, throwing around references to everything from early-Eighties synth pop to epic rock. Very little of this eclecticism made it onto the stage last night, however. The songs most of the crowd came for - "Girl From Mars", "Shining Light", "Goldfinger", "Oh Yeah"; the hits, in other words – revealed Ash to be a band which puts a touching amount of faith in a catchy tune, two guitars played fast and loud, and some old-fashioned punky “wo-oh-woahs!” thrown into the mix as required. There was - ye gods! - a keyboard lurking stage left but it was reduced to the status of wallflower, barely glanced at all night.

Occasionally hints emerged that Ash have gazed towards more adventurous horizons. Opener "Arcadia" was a clear homage to Phoenix, while "Binary", which might just be the best song they’ve ever recorded, sounded like New Order pawing SAW in a squelchy embrace. The default setting, however, was meat-and-potatoes indie rock. Good meat and good potatoes, mind you, more Waitrose organic than Tesco pre-packed, but meat and potatoes all the same.

When Wheeler announced near the end that “an experiment” was about to take place, for a second my heart fluttered with expectation, but it turned out to be nothing more challenging than the first ever live airing of the instrumental "Sky Burial". It was hardly "Jazz Odyssey". It was a bit spacey, it was quite long, and it had a funny little widdly bit in the middle, but essentially it sounded like an Ash song without any vocals. And therein lies both the secret to their appeal and the source of their limitations. You know what you’re getting with this bunch, at least on stage. It was predictable, it was nostalgic, but no less fun for all that.

• Ash are touring the UK until Saturday
• Find Ash on Amazon
• Find out more about Ash's A-Z series

Ash playing "Girl From Mars" live at the Astoria, 2008: