Originally intended as a performance by The Necks, tonight's show has been changed due to personal tragedy. The son of bassist Lloyd Swanton has been involved in a serious accident and so, understandably, he has had to miss this tour (Chris Abrahams lets the audience know that Swanton's son has been moved from the ICU into a normal ward today, and there is a collective murmur of relief). In place of the band, the two remaining members have decided to play solo sets, a rare and welcome alternative under the circumstances.

Tony Buck and Chris Abrahams flip a coin to decide who plays first. Buck wins and settles behind his drum kit. Tonight he begins with field recordings – footsteps and jangling keys, a simple domestic set of sounds stripped of context and given a new intensity through volume and setting. Buck strums a guitar, beginning with simple chords then moving to distorted squalls, filling the acoustic space around the footsteps. After around 15 minutes he swaps to the drums, and the recordings slowly fade away over the remainder of the set.

This is far from a traditional drum solo though. These are drums as creaking, groaning, unsettling things: organic and human. A snare is played with a cymbal dragged harshly on its outer rim, while an almost tribal kick pattern runs below. A variety of percussion instruments are used, by themselves and in place of drum sticks. There's no obvious collection of motifs here but there is coherence within the changing sounds, so despite the mix of instruments this never sounds like anything other than a single piece. And over that set's 40-minute run-time, Buck not only shows his deftness at propelling music forward, he also challenges the audience's perception of what is possible with a drum kit.

Chris Abrahams begins as the more obviously musical part of the night; pretty, melodic notes spark off the piano as he settles into his own improvised piece. This quickly shifts into a more challenging mixture of sounds, notes dense and clustered, sustained to the point of abrasion. Quieter moments are welcomed but rare, and the piece risks ending up more virtuosic than entertaining – extended periods focused on lower and upper octaves almost seem endurance tests for the listener. Towards the end though, the sound centres and spreads, returning to the original motif. And as the music rises and falls like waves, or a series of near misses in heavy traffic, the elements of the piece – melodic and dissonant – come together in a deeply satisfying finale.