Akron/Family

DiS arrives at a packed out Luminaire well after the opening Hush Arbors exeunt - with moments to spare in fact - before Ontarians The Acorn take the stage. The band open with a delicate, charming ‘Flood Pt. 2’, Rolf Klausener’s lead vocal crisp and commanding; this is their first London performance but before long the strong melodic clout that informs new album Glory Hope Mountain is entrancing all and sundry. Said album is an expansive, ambitious work; seeing it gain such dynamism as it does this evening is bracing indeed, and at their strongest the percussive, infectious drive of it all is nothing less than awe-inspiring – a band completely in tune with themselves and their audience.

Still soaking that up be I when the headlining Akron/Family emerge, proceeding to captivate in a rather different manner – adorned in bandanas and white vests, and encouraging all sorts of audience-led backing vocals to almost spectral effect. “Let’s all try coming in on a different note!” they suggest, which works surprisingly well as the lead-in to their colossal amalgamation of styles.

Assimilating myriad techniques very much American, one number finds blissful psych meanderings ultimately metamorphose into a sludge-rock beast of champions, guitar solos as impressive as they are bordering-on-the-outrageous, before volume suddenly dissipates and the whole affair is gently brought down to earth via sweet harmonies, the entire band sharing vocal duties.

However, where the first half of the set was self-confessedly more pastoral in tone, promises that things will now get “a little freaky” come its concluding half are certainly not hollow. Here, the subtlety that informed the preceding 40 minutes is lost somewhat: bluster and volume rises, as does a sense that the band are perhaps indulging themselves more than is necessary.

Just as they’re on the verge of disengaging me completely, guitars four and six-stringed are lowered, empty Magners bottles become prime percussive tools, and a round of beatboxing kicks off what will culminate in around 20 minutes of a communal sing/clap-a-thon. Bassist Miles Seaton dives into the crowd, screams sporadically into his mic and stomps around the stage seemingly in a world of his own – shared and bolstered by the audience he’s not so much commanding as gloriously in synch with; a suitable close to an evening spent in the company of two of North America’s finest, as rambunctious as it is unique.