Thanks to the shackles of modern life, I arrive half way through final support act Feed the Rhino. Gazing over their set from the balcony, they could be mistaken for a headline act; impromptu circle-pits and a horde of trouncing bodies look spectacular from a high vantage point. At one stage the lights drop and each member of the crowd is asked to use their phone to illuminate the space around them, and the resulting glare of camaraderie is oddly moving .This band exists in an already crowded vein of hardcore rock, but anything they lack in innovation is overcome by sheer presence, audience participation and potent thrashery.

Enter Shikari begin with ‘The Appeal & Mindsweep 1’, the backdrop lightshow ripples in the shape of firing neurons as a gentle electronic pitter-patter accompanies Rou Reynolds anti-capitalist tirade. The frenzied conclusion of the song leads nicely into ‘Destablise’, and following this Reynolds disappears from sight for a brief moment and materialises stood atop the bar in the centre of the venue, wielding a guitar. Shikari’s commitment to showmanship is demonstrated from the start, and the front-man remains in this position throughout ‘Gandhi Mate, Gandhi’. This track’s initial robotic jolt causes unanimous bouncing across the room and provides a true highlight of their set.

Following this is new single ‘The Last Garrison’, the fist-pump hook exhibits a maturity in the band as they show off their ability to write intelligent pop music. After another populist classic ‘Juggernauts’, the St Albans four-piece move towards a showcase of a few tracks from their most recent record, The Mindsweep. Although the new album is a competent effort, it is difficult to match A Flash Flood of Colour for its distinction and complexity, and some of these tracks fall short, the exception being ‘Never Let Go of the Microscope’ which is the superlative here.

Old favourite ‘Mothership/Motherstep’ comes next, the dubstep clashed with crunchy riffs causes another frenzy of movement in the pit. There is also a rather disappointing moment in ‘The Paddington Frisk’ where guitarist Rory C enters the crowd with the hope of having a circle form around him. Instead he is swamped by adoration and the song has to be cut short and restarted with him taking place back on stage. It is here that a sense of disconnect between Shikari and their audience becomes more apparent, Reynolds would have his devotees as an army of politically engaged activists, and battles tirelessly to get his message across to a rabble born out of adolescent anger.

Sadly it appears that the anti-establishment fervour becomes little more than a shallow adoration for the band themselves, and this is demonstrated perfectly when Rory C is manhandled by the crowd, and people blindly cheer at all of the speeches and lyrics without any pause for thought or understanding of context. Conversely, taking my cynic hat off, even if a small percentile of the audience goes on to research fracking or economic disparity, a modicum of meaning can be achieved.

Shikari return for an encore following NHS anthem ‘Anaesthetist’ and Reynolds demonstrates further multi-instrumentalism, playing piano and trumpet on ‘Dear Future Historians’. The band finish on a turbulent remix of ‘Sssnakepit’, which acts an outstanding punctuation mark to the performance.

The post-hardcore/electronica foursome have shown tireless innovation and commitment to providing a ridiculously energetic live show. Sadly for them, like many political acts, their message is mostly diluted in the hedonistic appreciation of the noise.

Luke Savage