Low, Royal Festival Hall, London

At various points during Low’s gig at the Royal Festival Hall, frontman Alan Sparhawk extracts squalling feedback from his guitar as he plays it with his teeth. This might be standard if Low were a macho, hair-metal outfit but, for the leading lights of slowcore, it seems rather incongruous. The thing is though, it works.

Low have carved out a career in narcoleptic indie rock since the early 90s, playing with an admirable sparseness and restraint. The band’s slow, meticulous workouts often seemed on the verge of exploding in a torrent of noise – and sporadically did – but since 2005’s ‘The Great Destroyer’, the Minnesotan trio, now bolstered by an additional keyboardist, have developed a sound less steeped in abstinence, more smouldering with intensity.

Still touring on the back of 2011’s ‘C’mon’ album, Low draw heavily on their considerable oeuvre, with particular adulation for ‘Sunflower’ and ‘Dinosaur Act’ from ‘Things We Lost In The Fire’. The flawless harmonies on record are identical live – drummer Mimi Parker’s quivering vibrato shimmers alongside Sparhawk’s more conventional drawl – sounding like Fleetwood Mac with a more rustic temperament. Sparhawk and Parker are Mormons and there is a sense of religious uncertainty which pervades the band’s performances. This displays itself in literally biting fashion during ‘Everybody’s Song’, as Sparhawk’s dental histrionics drive and direct the pounding heartbeat of the song while ‘Words’, dating from the band’s 1994 debut ‘I Could Live In Hope’, is magisterial, Sparhawk gravely intoning about ‘a man in a box who wants to burn my soul.’

Parker’s Mo Tucker-approach to drumming provides the delicate flourishes which illuminate Low in the grand surrounding. If anything, Tucker actually plays, rather than merely hits, the drums, providing measured punctuation, especially for the scorching heat of ‘Witches’. Any communication between the band and audience is rendered superfluous by the sheer potency of the show - a welcome development as crowd interaction is minimal at best.

Nine albums into their career, Low seem poised to ascend into the pantheon of American guitar acts steeped in the sublime. Their performance at the Royal Festival hall is nothing less than a staggering display of sonic dynamics stretched over a back catalogue every increasing in eminence. ‘A long time you waited, you thought it had abated’ sings Sparhawk on ‘Shame’ but witnessing the sheer splendour of Low was more than worth the wait.