Lyca Sleep

Sometimes apathy can be a good thing. Certainly ignorance would have been more blissful than persevering with The Fakers' set, which veered between the dog ends of Oasis pastiche and Kasabian, who specialise in Oasis pastiches for a living. Despite the efforts of the singer to create some kind of vibe by swinging from the lighting rig and leaping around in a manner that would be alien to either member of the Gallagher clan, The Fakers never really conjure up anything more than faux punk-by-Beatles numbers that disappear from memory by the time they reach the chorus. On the flyer for tonight's gig it mentions that they come heavily recommended by Simon Fowler, which is probably as good a place as any to move on.

So back to that old chestnut, apathy - and let's face it, no one could be blamed for calling it a day and going home to watch the snooker highlights on television. Several people do, looking somewhat disenchanted. So at this point, I'd just like to say that you may have missed the most spellbinding 40 minutes of the year so far.

For Lyca Sleep it's not exactly been plain sailing, despite the numerous plaudits bestowed on them; and thanks to pressing plant hiccups, the single for which this tour was supposed to go in tandem with has now been put back another six weeks. Which, if it wasn't for the fact that they are at their most prominently bewitching live, would surely spell the end for lesser artists...

The fairy lights delicately placed around the drum kits, amps and mic stand give off an almost religious fervour (as opposed to British Sea Power's militaristic decorative tastes), and the guitar and each respective effects pedal are carefully orchestrated as Rob Marshall glides between demonic agitator and classical pick-tician during the opening 'Inches Of Air'.

As a band who fit no particular genre or fad, Lyca Sleep may never be referred to as style darlings but when the flowering bud of 'Closer In' bursts into the sky like a sound propelled rocket on deep heat rather than diesel, and the gorgeous lilt of 'Sold Me A Ride' builds up into its final crescendo, vocalist Dan Cutts lashing his tambourine before letting out a baroque roar that transcends itself between scream and sigh for several minutes, the stage becomes an altar and the lighting rig could be a porthole to heaven. Things can't get any better than this.

But they do. Lyca Sleep end their set with the tumultuous blast of 'Forever', a slow burning epic that marries Explosions In The Sky dynamics with a Buckley-esque lullaby that simply eclipses the rest of the set.

Lyca Sleep then, striking a chord with God, and recruiting a host of new disciples along the way.