Filling the floor first were the brave LA act Fol Chen commencing the night to just a handful of guests who dared to shout “turn it up!” Apparently, heckling is the key; the initial quieted trumpet and rhythm guitar mutate into sprinting guitar riffs and clear brass tempos just in time for ‘Cable TV’.

Though the sheer size of the empire swallows Melissa Thorne's sparrow vocals just a tad in some tracks (particularly when she dominates in ‘Cable TV’), it’s interesting to experience how her delicate voice survives amongst the drumming dance hooks. Lead vocalist and jokester, Samuel Bing playfully introduces second album opener and corking track ‘The Holograms’, distinctly Fol Chen, boasting serious metrical chords and strutting the band forward with a promising album return.

Counteracting the fresh and open performance of Fol Chen are the London-bred Factory Floor, who severely smoke out an entire stage for theatrical effect and sure enough, it works. Shapeless and lost amongst the cemetery fog, Factory Floor conquers the Empire acoustics (bar the muted drumming expertise of original Gabriel Gurnsey), droning uninterrupted, obnoxiously loud post-punk abstractions and the set is sincerely mind-blowing.

When the hazy-veil dissipates, we are left wondering why lead guitarist Nik Void is concealed so substantially in the set. A visually entertaining support act, the brunette Void, commands a blank stare and juts in scathing feedback by simply strumming with a torn violin’s bow, joining the abusive and penetrating bass structure. 

Liars remain unfazed by the muffled instrumentals, which notably strip their victorious live legacy at points. Liars’ ‘Freak Out’ and ‘Plaster Casts of Everything’ teeter between heart-pumping momentous to relatively lifeless. But tonight, nothing prevents front man and onstage gigolo Angus Andrew performing his cavorting showmanship, first by ending the opening Drums Not Dead treat ‘A Visit From Drum’ with his deadpan commentary “see what I did  – I played an electric piano.” Of course, there’s more. He curses the current oil spillage crisis, raises arms in halleluiah to the organ hook in ‘Sailing to Byzantiam’ and coolly pokes fun at the fan who dares raises his hand when Andrews asks “We’re a threesome, who’s had a threesome?” 

When judgement time calls and the Sisterworld tracks hit, their fifth record success quickly emerges. Fans tear up the orderly standing stalls, pucker cheers and riot through ‘No Barrier Fun’, ‘The Overachievers’ and the urgent ‘Scissor’ adlibbed with naughty London jibes to unleash the hooligan mentality even further.

Playing a similar set to their recent stint at ATP Minehead, Liars continue to swear their loyalty to They Were Wrong, So We Drowned executing across ‘We Fenced Gardens With the Bones of Our Own.’ While Gross and Hemphill deliver the hellish, cornea-scratching and hollowed out instrumentals, Andrews holds the attention, pausing for emphatic, chilling lyrics “fly, fly, the devil’s in your eye. Shoot! Shoot!” Their album homage to witch-trial prosecution lingers for the “blood” chanting encore and punter’s stare in shock in face of the long-forgotten ‘Broken Witch’. Ending flawlessly in the jarring resurrection, Liars finally bow out to the shivering caress of electric radar throbs, drumming snare rolls and abandoned guitar screeches.