Car Seat Headrest: Twin Fantasy in Technicolor

Deeply locked in hugs, couples filled the Roundhouse; young men circling their arms around their girlfriends, chanting along to every word, precisely, stopping occasionally to smoke cigarettes or make out. Car Seat Headrest has successfully straddled the male / female / gay / straight / old / young divides, with pudgier silver-haired men lining the back walls chewing the rim of their ale cups. An older lady leaned into the barrier beside me and watched the whole performance doe-eyed through her hands. Toledo’s music is for them. It’s for everybody.

Far from the melancholy bedroom mixtapes of a few years ago, this current incarnation is confident and inviting. Toledo is still anxious and adorable like a rescue puppy; the shy geekdom ever battling the want to dive into sonic freakout as it often did for Graham Coxon on his solo endeavours. Vocally at times he equals a young Brian Wilson, other times he bombs around stage with head-bop dance moves like he’s drunk in his own bedroom. You could argue it’s at times a confused stage show, but that sense of work-in-progress, the living evolution of it, makes it all the richer.

As Conor Oberst once brought together kids and their cool dads over a decade ago, Car Seat Headrest’s unnerving, jagged but steady live show has settled just as timelessly into consciousness, but perhaps with a bit more edge. It’s Bright Eyes for crowd surfers.

Some bands career peak is selling out The Roundhouse but - seeing these once introvert songs about drugs and angst reimagined in so much colour - this show feels more like a stepping stone on the band’s way to Alexandra Palace, The O2 and beyond.