Nick. Nick Nick. We’ve been here before haven’t we? Your Gravenhurst set last year, supporting Múm in Cardiff, was the spit of tonight’s: quiet and insistent murmuring over lightly brushed electric guitar, sporadically pretty, eventually dulling. An Informed Man tells me you’ve impressed with a full band in the past, certainly your last song, where guitar strums are fed backwards and mangled by electronic withcery, is pretty sparky. It’s just all a little… bullied at school. Get your hair cut four eyes (sorry).

Thee Silver Mt Zion have undoubtably made music to be sad to, strange scrapings of strings and vocals filled with tears. They’re equally good at capturing ragged defiance, and it’s this singing from collapsed buildings that dominates tonight’s proceedings. Coalescing around the midstage figure of Efrim Menuck, rocking the psych ward surfer look and probably sick of being called an ex-Godspeed You! Black Emperor member, three other black-clad comrades drink red wine and play double bass and effects-laden violins, adding swish layers to the guitar, drums and off mic hollering. They begin with ‘Thirteen Blues For 13 Moons’. 20 minutes, and three movements later, they stop and make a joke about Moby. Leavened with dry wit between them, these songs rage like angry ghosts, unfurling more easily than a first gig in two years perhaps should. They power on in this way – gothic post rock sometimes overripe with pathos, mostly righteous quiet/loud waves – for as long as we’re here. What other band would have a heaving crowd roar recognition for a song called ‘God Bless Our Dead Marines’? We run for the train home, and put pennies on the tracks.