The Staves, Royal Festival Hall, London

How is London tonight? “Middling” shrugs Emily Staveley-Taylor after a self-conscious cheer from the Royal Festival Hall. But ‘middling’ is something this trio are not. The Staves are undeniably exposed on this small stage, the huge and impersonal venue meaning the intimacy of their records could easily have been lost. But they rise to the challenge, using their power to reach out and entrance with their tumbling harmonies, leaving the crowd hanging on every word.

With just a banner and simple blue lighting, there’s no showy stagecraft here - they don’t need it. The stage is messy, the trio wear t-shirts and jeans, and the set is relaxed, but quietly confident. Veering from the rocky ‘Black and White’ and ‘Damn It All’ to the delicate ‘Mexico’, they reach both ends of the folk rock spectrum. Camilla switches from bass to ukulele, Jessica makes the most of the grand piano, all while making it all look very easy. The most magical tracks are when they forget all back up, their layered voices cutting through the silence. But while their vocals soar, their feet remain firmly on the ground.

Quipping furiously, trading puns and detouring into stand up, it doesn’t take long for their confidence to rub off on the crowd. A bloke pretends to be the Queen, Emily pulls off a convincing impression of Guy Garvey and the vastness of the hall is forgotten. “Shit, I just realised I’ve got my phone in my back pocket” blurts Camilla. Their awkward girl-down-the-pub mumbling and angelic vocals are a winning contradiction, and everyone at the Royal Festival Hall tonight is smitten.