Fittingly, it takes them a while to come to the boil. You can’t raise tar in an instant. After tripping through early few numbers that neither engage the converted nor convert the dissenters, Godspeed, in their own wilfully obtuse way, slowly make you realise just why they are so necessary.
Why the nine or ten (or is a round dozen or more) members take to stumbling across the stage, going nowhere, atonally ripping the souls from the cellos and violins and basses they obscure from view is of little consequence. Because from nowhere they draw a sound that belongs in the pit. It chills and excites and makes you realise why they were chosen to headline the second stage.
Forgive them the dilettante noodlings – tonight Godspeed sound-track the aneurysm you wish you’ll never have.
All feeling and no surface maybe, but tonight it feels like light relief.