Live Review: Foals, Alpine

Alpine, acting as the sole support tonight, sound bigger and bolder than ever. Phoebe Baker is head-banging, Lou James is dipping and twisting, the sextet's rhythm section is firing stage right while refrained textures are being created to the left of the central vocals. As usual, the Melbourne gang find the intricacies of songs like Softsides hard to contain, but for every slight miscue there's a moment of brilliance that you can't deny. Later, Villages sees the band beautifully lost in their own dance, before Gasoline concludes a joyous set.

An epileptic light show then heralds the arrival of British conquerors Foals. The five-piece clop onto the stage one by one, soaking up the adulation, before making their loud and lucid intentions for the evening clear with Holy Fire's Prelude melting into Total Life Forever, the latter which electrifies mid-song with a wild guitar break. There's a nip pourer to the left of keyboardist Edwin Congreave featuring an undisclosed clear substance, but the Oxford five don't require any additional kick. My Number builds and bursts with way more impact than you hear on record, while Providence sounds volatile and marks Yannis Philippakis' first venture into the pit, the furry frontman crowdsurfing the first few rows before landing on stage for the massive breakdown as nonchalantly as can be.

The band's playing is super versatile, going from bone crushing sections of ripping chords and pounding rhythms to grooves that are lean and animated. The transcending journey that is Spanish Sahara is given full exposure, while the intro to Red Sock Pugie is twisted out before hands and voices fill the room during Late Night, which starts off sluggish but comes full-circle amazing by song's end. Foals then round things out with Electric Bloom, which is instantly jolted with Philippakis thickening out Jack Bevan's drumming with some stick work of his own before taking to The Tivoli's top level to get some air off the mezzanine. The frontman jumps, waiting arms catch, and once again he is swiftly back to the stage barely missing a beat. Lights shoot towards the roof like futuristic pillars and, with the crazy snake backdrop looking all kinds of 3D, it's overwhelming in the best possible way.

Foals dip back in the encore, opening with the Skins-approved Hummer, before Philippakis teases the heaving room, “Are we going to blow this place away? Wednesday night style?” And fair play to the lads, with the sonic boom of Inhaler they almost do, before usual set-stopper Two Steps, Twice smashes the night to its conclusion, but not before a second mezzanine jump – with guitar – from Philippakis. Because indie rock can be this daring and dangerous.