The Big Moon steal the show at The Great Escape

Packing out a rammed Corn Exchange, The Big Moon’s crowd are singing ‘Cupid’ so loudly that Jules Jackson has found herself with an impromptu backing choir. Sporting wildly clashing Hawaiian shirts (bought especially for the occasion, apparently) and urging each other on with wide grins, the band don’t just look at home in Brighton’s most mahoosive venue. They look like they’ve been local residents for years, decking the gaff out with smoke machines, and vivid purple lava-lamp-channelling lights. The place belongs to them.

Playful takes on awkward fumbled romance steal the show – killer-snappy admissions “sorry I’m not your guy” and “I’m a sucker for you” are yowled back by the entire dome. Fern Ford is an absolute powerhouse behind the kit, thumping the living hell out of everything in arm’s reach. Pogoing their way around the stage, engaging in staged shredding duels, and swapping melodic blows, Celia Archer and Soph Nathan are having an absolute riot. And a teeny bit like getting nonovirus (if the nonovirus was actually really good fun, inducing frenzied moshpits and spontaneous sing-alongs rather than profuse vomit) it’s dangerously, rapidly infectious.

The Big Moon have a talent for songs that burrow their way into your memory without raising a single alarm; songs like ‘Sucker’ and ‘The Road’ sneak their way into whichever bit of brain-goo deals with processing first-rate bangers. With all that instantaneousness smacking you around the chops, it’s easy to forget that The Big Moon are also one of the most locked-together, Tetris-tight live bands around. Armed with gleaming polish, with a label that reads ‘Totally Fucking Ace,’ every turn of the The Big Moon’s gig is meticulously rehearsed, but completely magical. It’s all totally instinctive, and completely effortless. This lot do not have an Achilles heel.