Live: Filled With Love. Man Without Country, Scala.

Sunday, 1st April will never more be regarded as "any given Sunday". For it demarcates the date of decease of Gritpop's one and only (Viva) Brother (R.I.P. etc.). Consequently on today of all days, during this dolorous period of all-pervasive glumness autopsy urges a necessity to come to terms with the dichotomy between contemporary and merely temporary and even through this thick fug of grief such evaluation must be applied too to South Wales-based electropopsters Man Without Country, who tonight support crafty Swedes I Break Horses.

If the two may seem rather ill-suited adjudged purely on recorded content, the trio of Celtic nation Рwho claim to discern "a sense of not belonging" Рreally are at the races within a live context, thus acquiring such sense in this space. If the likes of Iceberg and Ebb & Flow come across a little like flimsy indie types Delphic and Fenech-Soler from the comfort of sofa, amidst strobe-lit delirium they're in turn comforting in their cushioning warmth. No mean feat, given their overwhelmingly monumental stature. The roisterous arpeggiations of Inflammable Heart come across a little big and pink all over, lead vocalist Ryan James acquiescing to one audience member's insistent demand for incessant FX overload whilst an abridged take on Björk's All Is Full Of Love becomes almost unnecessarily oppressive, James losing it and hurtling head about as if attempting to dislodge the thing from nervous system. It's agitation-inducing and a wonder his specs remain clasped to his forehead. Said cover is to feature on the flipside to forthcoming single Puppets which, perhaps expectedly, contains the one hook that clasps onto Velcro-like memory even once they're tonight long gone. It's like an adrenaline-fuelled Tycho sprinting away from lethal drum bludgeon and it's darn invigorating. And irrespective of an excessively electro, Van She-ish outro you'd propose the end for Man Without Country to be anything but nigh...