Upon getting inside, I have barely enough time to grab a drink and head to the front before support act Maps launch into their barrage of comedown-aiding fuzz rock. They are a fitting band to warm up for Blonde Redhead and the crowd all seem either already familiar with their musical stylings, or won over by their My Bloody Valentine-esque shoegazery. With a flurry of noise and feedback they leave the audience with a sense of great things to come, a mere taster of a band who are going from strength to strength as a live act.

When Blonde Redhead arrive onstage, there is an air of hushed awe beneath the cheers. This is a band that has always been something of an enigma, not least because of the otherworldly presence of Kazu Makino, who takes ethereal cool to another level completely. She dances like some kind of art school pixie and I suspect that her own style of rhythmical movement owes more to the likes of Kate Bush and Bjork than to the band's less performance orientated musical influences, such as Galaxie 500 or Kevin Shields. Her voice is eerily distant, yet at the same time gives you the feeling that she is standing right behind you, singing softly in your ear.

Guitarist/singer Amedeo Pace is himself a joy to watch as he pedal hops across his patch of the stage like J. Mascis in a more cerebral mood. He fills the room with loops and loops of layered guitars and drums and it's easy to forget that this incredible and all encompassing sound is emanating from only three people. On 'In Particular' he merely taps his guitar strings throughout, channeling the noises through the enormous mass of effects pedals at his feet, creating a sound collage that fills the entire hall.

The Blonde Redhead live experience is one that must be seen to be fully understood. The music is the kind that shifts between throbbing, intense guitars with a sense of impending doom, to breezy, chiming organ sounds all augmented by Kazu's beautifully fragile vocals, or Amedeo's deep and raspy shoutings. Their refusal to make the kind of music that might get them noticed on a major scale is perhaps one of the reasons why the audience seems to love them so much. There are no pop hits, and no singalong choruses, instead the band, who have grown almost entirely by word-of-mouth, give a performance with an intimacy that belies Koko's size leaving those gathered inside with a sense of inarticulate breathlessness, like you'd just woken from a dream so intense as to be momentarily unsure of what's real anymore. - Steve Gislam