Using their whole ass: Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeroes live in London

The last time I saw them, back when they were coasting the crest of the hype curve, they very memorably transformed the Old Vic Tunnels under Waterloo Station into a skewed Wild West-themed wonderland incorporating knife throwing, duelling banjos, marionettes and melodramatic sun-worship. Five years later at the Islington Assembly Hall in London (15 August), their set-up is somewhat less ostentatious (frontman Alex Ebert’s hair aside), but the experience, happily, is just as exhilarating.

In some ways, this is a pleasant surprise. There’s an argument that their signature tune “Home” has become a victim of over-familiarity, having graced (or if your taste for whimsy is limited, blighted) a myriad television advertisements and TV shows since it was released in 2009. Over the years, members have come and gone, most notably co-songwriter Jade Castrinos, whose winsome vocals and multi-instrumental talents formed a key part of the band’s appeal. There’s the fact that they’ve have been together almost a decade now, and truthfully speaking, few acts manage to sustain both quality and enthusiasm over such a time frame. But the Magnetic Zeroes are as potent a musical outfit as they ever were, artfully combining showmanship, musicianship and catchy choruses with a substantial dose of fun.

And they are most definitely The Magnetic Zeroes now, as anyone who has seen the album art for their latest release PersonA can testify. The words “Edward Sharpe And” are pointedly spray-painted over, marking a decision by Ebert to ditch his vaguely-defined (and slightly Charles Manson-ish) hippie/cult-leader alter-ego and be himself – which to be fair, is not all that different. But there’s also a sense, which is also borne out by the collaboratively-written new album, that this isn’t entirely the Alex (or Alex & Jade) Show any more. The rest of the ten-piece are given more room to shine, there’s a lot more polish to their performance, and at times the extremely well-orchestrated arrangements of the newer tracks threaten to steal the spotlight from the main man himself.

That said, there’s no denying that Ebert remains the heart of the whole thing. Although more self-deprecating than in the past, he maintains an uncommonly charismatic earnestness that fits perfectly with the rootin’-tootin’ upbeatness the Magnetic Zeroes have made their own. He bases most of the setlist on requests, which explains the unexpected appearance of moody, soulful deep cut “Black Water” (“the rest of you are gonna hate this”). He spends much of the show dancing among the crowd, wryly conversing with those at the barrier, or sourcing inspirational stories from audience members. At one point he invites a couple of super-fans on stage to provide guest vocals on “Man On Fire”, and in a remarkable twist both of them knock it out of the park. He even seems to genuinely enjoy performing his biggest hits, “Janglin’” (a song so happy it makes the Polyphonic Spree sound like Low) and the inevitable “Home”.

It all adds up to a performance that is, by Ebert’s own admission, “corny as shit”, but also a complete and unalloyed delight. “Edward Sharpe” may be dead, but The Magnetic Zeroes might well be in the best shape they’ve ever been.