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Live: The Postal Service, Brixton Academy, London

They said it would never happen but here it is - a bloody gig by The Postal Service! A sea of plaid and floral sways back and forth, but as neon columns to the rear of the stage light up the audience and a strobe begins to flash, one can't help but think it all seems a bit incongruous considering The Postal Service’s back catalogue. Give Up is a bit emo for this super-club vibe, isn’t it? The band run onto the stage and Death Cab For Cutie's Ben Gibbard grabs the microphone. “Love…” announces Gibbard “it’s a bitch.” Oh wait there you go.

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Live: Tribes, Academy 2, Manchester

Live music is one of life's greatest joys that we, as humans, get to appreciate. It can evoke a multiplicity of emotions, create memories that last forever, make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and make you feel part of something completely different, even if it's just for 90 minutes. The smell of spilled lager, mingled with the stale and not-so-stale sweat of the 60 year old bloke in a faded Uriah Heep t-shirt, whose Indiana Jones hat has blocked your view most of the night, would be repulsive in an everyday situation, however at a gig, it has a certain sense of charm. Though I digress slightly, the point I'm trying to make is live music can be fucking brilliant...

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Live: Suuns, XOYO, London

‘Minimalist’ is a word which you can frequently apply to Suuns’ recorded output. Live, on the other hand the adjective makes no sense whatsoever. Any attempts to call this music minimalist get blasted away by the force of the band’s arrangements, turning elongated jams of eerie repetition into increasingly powerful sound. The elements of their style which give rise to this description remain fully intact, but empowered by the muscle, noise, and sheer volume of their live set up, it still feels suitable to call their music ‘patient’, ‘assured’ or ‘careful’, but never minimalist.

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Live: Why?, Islington Academy, London

If you too felt that Mumps. Etc. didn’t set the critical hype machine ablaze to the same degree as Why?'s 2008 opus Alopecia, tonight’s feverish show in London wouldn’t betray it. People here tonight adore the material, and inhabit every cloying syllable – throwing themselves behind each song with full commitment; even the wintery, songwriter turns from the awkwardly placed Eskimo Snow receive the full-blooded sing-along treatment.

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Live: Haxan Cloak, Birthdays, London

From the opening drum beat and resonating bass note, it is clear that rather than a Haxan Cloak ‘gig’ this is more of a Haxan Cloak seance. Behind Bobby Krlic, who stands at a laptop wreathed in shadow, is projected a series of images - flashes of black and white and repeated refrains hinting towards the subject matter of new album, Excavation. A camera tracks forward through large ornate gates, a rolling bed of fire, layers of rock, layers of hell. And even stranger, a loop of a duck swooping down to land on water. It is the image of the duck that is most haunting. As these images flash up on the projector, the synth and the sampler rattle around looping screams, feedback, muttering - echoes of life mixed into noises of death.

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