Openers Cherry Glazerr, also a trio, haven't yet figured out how to make their garage-rock hullabaloo project. Clementine Creevy's guitar has the right volume and attitude, but the band would be exponentially more compelling with a second guitarist to play foil and add some sneaky intricacy. When Creevy is at her prickliest, her singing has shades of Be Your Own Pet's Jemina Pearl; typically, though, she's soft and high like a shoegaze siren, and it doesn't stand up to the cocksure thump of the music. Cherry Glazerr still have support band-itis: they're competent and fun but a long way from riveting.

As a live act, Liars have reached that crucial nexus between well-rehearsed precision and the intuition that comes with having been a band for over a decade and sensing one another's next move even when it's not in the script. In 2014, the group seems to perform without doubt or hesitation, although the thank yous between songs come across as genuine.

Frontman Angus Andrew is tasked with working the audience; the rest of the band get to be more shadowy figures, casting a spell over the production of their stubbornly impervious but often catchy industrial dance music. It's an interesting tug-of-war, the desire to reach across the aisle and let your audience know their support is meaningful, while giving in to the introvert's temptation to, for example, come out in a full face mask and perform a set under very minimal lighting.

In 2014, an indie band playing electronic music is not especially perverse, but it's remarkable that Liars are able to sustain as much rock energy as they do with just a small smattering of electric guitar, especially with the gig's material focused on their synthesizer-centric Mess. Where Julian Gross's percussion was a vital component of Drum's Not Dead, his drumming takes a back seat on Mess; it's only live that we're reminded what a powerhouse he is, how fundamental his low-end is when there's no bass. Being a three-piece means having to be creative and work that much harder to fill out the sound so it hits the back of the room in the viscera. In their early days as a five-member band, Liars' righteous clatter looked considerably easier. It's all the more staggering when one factors in how little playing singer Andrew does compared to his time stalking the stage -- the onus is on multi-instrumentalist Aaron Hemphill when Andrew's not generating effects or peripheral synth squelches.

The gulf in experience between the two acts on show is clear and you know Liars are meant to be the headliner because once they step on that stage it's all scorched earth. It's their world now, and we should want nothing less.