Arcade Fire – The Roundhouse, London 12/11/13

As the dust settles around the release of Arcade Fire’s Reflektor, one consensus seems apparent. There isn’t one. For this writer, its boldness was matched only by its bombast – but much of its reception dubbed it either an impenetrable sprawl or ineffective experiment.

From the grandiose to the intimate, then – with the current run of album promotional shows in variously quirky venues around the world, announced via guerilla distribution of crudely photocopied show posters. From the “mandatory” dress code that results in a three thousand strong, glitter splattered mass of tuxes and Tigger outfits roving through Camden, to the face painters, skull-faced mariachi bands, dub DJ sets, Haitian drummers, dance instructors and endearingly corny decor inside, it’s a glorious manifestation of the record’s wicked sense of self-awareness.

The band’s faux-guise as art-school hipsters The Reflektors swells past just the gleeful indulgence and scattered brilliance of their studio reinvigoration to represent far more than gimmick, as group, crowd and venue all wholeheartedly give in to the escapist carnival of Reflektor.

For a record so aware of the impact of celebrity, and the expectation of the band’s own myth, it’s an effective visual statement, represented best by the catalogue of masks worn by ringleader Win Butler through the evening – from oversized papier-mâché heads to a mirrored chainmail balaclava. Their playful spirit is infectious – bringing the rhythmic drive of the new record to spluttering life, and optimising the natural pace of older cuts for the dance floor. It’s not dance music, but it is music you can most definitely dance to.

Though the record’s best elements are thrust to the forefront of the live show, its questionable deficiencies are not entirely purged. As convincing a frontman as he is, the ten tracks aired tonight from Reflektor are most heavy on Butler – demoting Regine Chassagne to a level of supporting cast that her boundless enthusiasm (and impressive dance moves) outclasses. When she takes the reigns for the rousing “Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains)”, complete with coloured streamers, it’s a reminder of one bowstring The Reflektors leave unplucked. When they do meet, for the closing “Supersymmetry”, it’s with plaintive tenderness, rather than the explosive eruption that the show’s previous crescendo might suggest.

However, in the context of the live show’s rich rendering of Reflektor‘s sonic cauldron, it’s a moot point. Shifting effortlessly from sleek, dark disco, to the gritty garage of a Clash cover (“I’m So Bored With the U.S.A”), it’s a thrilling, unpredictable ride made coherent by the band’s enviable ability as a live act. As arty as they imagine themselves to be, they’re never above the simplicity of singalong or euphoric conclusion – for every tautly enacted groove, there’s an arms in the air apex or ticker tape cannon to pique it. There’s no wrong step – but “Normal Person” deserves a mention for the eruptive manner that it explodes into its glam stomp, and “Here Comes the Night Time” is as fitted to a pulsing sweatbox as you’d hope.

As comfortably as they tread the line between organic and electronic, their knack for bridging the gap between overwhelming and personal makes such a relatively small show feel both personally affirming and communally uplifting – a trait that will see next year’s arena tour become the success it deserves, as the band stamp their mark on the highest musical planes in existence.

Photograph by Jason Williamson. See full gallery here.