A free gig plus the opportunity for a spot of record shopping in-between bands – here at MOJO we can't think of many better ways to spend an evening. Add the scorched-earth anthems of the re-formed, "classic" Dinosaur Jr., the bucolic glory of Villagers, the gnarly psychedelia of Wolf People and the gazillions of records at HMV's flagship store to the mix and you've just turned a good night into a great one.

First on at the launch of this year's Glenfiddich MOJO Honours List are pastoral psych-prog explorers Wolf People, who manage to combine elements of rustic wistfulness with some ancient heavy riffing redolent of early Black Mountain. Walter Becker/J Tillman lookalike Tom Watt on drums and Viv Stanshall-redolent bassist Dan Davies build a swampy platform on which the likes of the Tull-ish Tiny Circle groove, and yet also rock. Good and loud and unabashedly hairy, Wolf People are like a particularly stupendous episode of the Old Grey Whistle Test from 1971, only somehow right now.

Next on are Villagers, fresh from recognition at this May's Ivor Novellos, where the spectacularly crafted title track of 2010's excellent debut album, Becoming A Jackal, waltzed away with Best Song Musically And Lyrically. Mainman Conor J. O'Brien's songwriting talent has never been in doubt, but tonight's show proves his fresh-faced group now have the big sound to go with the boss tunes, and even nearby Dinosaur bassist Lou Barlow – who played with O'Brien earlier in his career – had to concede he was a bit jealous. Arenas beckon, but minus the cliché-mongering associated with them, and new track The Bell suggests there are plenty more arrows in the songwriting quiver.

On with the show, and here come Dinosaur Jr, whose second coming has been mercifully free of the emotional warfare that made the original trio as unhappy as they were brilliant. The result is a harder, tougher-sounding group who start and stop at the same time. Murph shatters drumsticks behind his gold-glitter kit; Lou Barlow wears an Electric Wizard T-shirt but give the impression that, in his brain, he's still a 15-year-old punker. Singer-guitarist J Mascis shambles shaggily around, pealing off dagger-storms of overheated guitar. Justly revered Cure cover Just Like Heaven is a highspot and they end with a Lou song. The entente really must be cordiale.

After the show, Lou takes advantage of the location and buys himself a copy Electric Wizard's Dope Throne album. "Feedback will free your mind and set you free," sayeth the Dorset doom metallers. We couldn't have put it better ourselves.