My Spanish amigos told, nay, ordered me to get an eyeful of Johnny Garso and I'm glad they did because he's a fucking live wire on stage.

True, he's so in thrall to a certain Southern Californian band that he ought to call himself Dia Verde, but it's obvious from the likes of 'Pam And Tommy' why the Zaragoza man is a punk hero round these parts.

Arriving on stage to the ironic strains of Franki Valli's 'Grease', Shame (pictured above) are in fine jagged post-punk form despite their collective sunburn - note to tour manager: bring some Factor 50 next time - which is going to hurt like hell in the morning.

Equal parts Mark E. Smith, Shaun Ryder and Grian Chatten, lead singer Charlie Steen spits out the words to songs like 'Fingers Of Steel', 'Alibis' and 'Six Pack' with an intensity bordering on the deranged.

The brand spanking new 'Screwdriver' finds the bare-chested frontman diving into the crowd with a gleeful "Motherfucker, si!" that puts pay to the notion that us Brits are shite at foreign languages.

I'm not sure about the drummer's cropped Georgio Tacchini top but otherwise the South London band are bloody brilliant.

Having almost literally bumped into Michael Kiwanuka yesterday at the airport - my bad for reading texts whilst walking through Arrivals - I finally get to see him doing his thing on stage and, well, it's a strange one.

While blessed with the sweetest of soul voices - we're talking Marvin levels of wow - and flanked by a virtuoso band, it's all a bit too polite and plodding for me.

But not for the rest of the packed Main Stage crowd who are in raptures as the Londoner runs through such mega hits as 'One More Night', 'Black Man In A White World' and 'Cold Little Heart;.

Michael Kiwanuka doesn't need any career advice from the likes of me, but I'd love to hear him get down 'n' dirty funky once in a while.

Michael Kiwanuka at Mallorca Live by Andres Iglesias.

After the success of last night's speed gigging - I still have butterflies in my stomach after falling head over heels for Las Odio - I do it all over again with El Cairo peddling a neat line in Balearic shoegaze; Lori Meyers delighting a huge Stage Two crowd with their soulful pop-rock, which also twangs its way into Johnny Cash territory; and Derby Motoreta's Burrito Kachimba time-warping us back to the late '60s with their Steppenwolf-meets-Free hard rock.

I also swing by the Club Stage, which has a mini-pyramid Glastonbury vibe, to check out Fab Morvan, one half of the duo that didn't sing on those Milli Vanilli hits.

While it turns out that he's not completely without artistic merit, the "All the laydeez in the house!" shtick is just too cheesy for me and I vamos halfway through 'Girl You Know It's True'.

Having marvelled at Debbie Harry last night, I'm again aghast - and, indeed, agape - at how Underworld's Karl Hyde is still able to dance his way through a headlining Mallorca Live slot at the ripe old age of 67.

A blur of flailing limbs, he's no less animated than he was back in the E-popping, illegal raving days of yore.

While many of the bands we got mashed to back then - Altern 8, Utah State, The Shamen etc. - sound almost comically outdated now, Underworld's rock/techno/house/drum 'n' bass/whatever you're having yourself fusion remains thrillingly visceral with or without chemical enhancement.

He occasionally joins Rick Smith behind the wall of sequencers and samplers that have long been their instruments of choice.

While they'll eternally be known for that song (more of which anon), Underworld have a dozen more that are just as good or, in the case of mid-set highlight 'Pearl's Girl', even better. Others that really land tonight are 'Mmm... Skyscraper, I Love You', 'S T A R' and 'Rez Girl/Cowboy'.

Underworld at Mallorca Live by Andres Iglesisas.

As dark and intense as the mood on stage is, there are subtle moments of humour like when 'Romford From Mallorca' flashes up behind them. No offence to the good denizens of East London but I know which one I'd rather be in.

It's understandable how 'Born Slippy' got mistaken as a hedonistic too-much-is-never-enough anthem back in the day - featuring on the Trainspotting soundtrack did nothing to dispel the notion - but 29-years later its parodying of lager lout culture is all too obvious.

Not that it doesn't still rock like the proverbial bastard and make a packed Main Stage lose its collective shit.

You only have to look at The K's to realise that their Year Zero is Arctic Monkeys' Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm No album.

While not entirely original, songs like 'Black And Blue' - sample lyric: "Well, he's six foot tall and three foot wide/ I don't know him too well but I know he's done time inside" - contain enough smart Alex Turner-isms and loud jangly guitars to merit spending 45 minutes in the Merseysiders' company.

The Mallorca Live partying continues waaaaaay into the night with a barnstorming 2ManyDJs vinyl set that again shows the youngsters how it's done.

2ManyDjs at Mallorca Live by Xavi Torrent.