I had a dream a few days ago that led to me lashing out in my sleep, knocking a small stack of crockery off my bedside table and smashing plates. Dreams are fickle things. Dreamy music is not fickle. It's really cool.

So I signed up to see Mac DeMarco. King of languid guitar riffs that lure you into a deep dreamscape inhabited by Freud who keeps on whispering your deepest insecurities into your ear, while Leonardo DiCaprio screams at you to stay out of limbo.

I descend into the deep pit of Birthdays, with a sheepskin coat that I'm too poor to sling into the cloakroom, to witness the glorious scene of a packed venue with a throng of people waiting for the mack daddy Mac.

DeMarco's travelling Canadian troupe jumps on, crowning the stage, wasting no time when it comes to pelting the audience with guitars that jangle more than chains. They slam every toe-tapping, booty-bopping beat straight into them, waiting for the crowd to lap up each grooving note they have to offer. Warmed and primed they belt out 'Cooking Up Something Good'. The vibe is electric; you want moonshine and just to jump right in, dancing till your feet rub to the bone.

The sound is magnificent. The dream shattered. Where a recording of DeMarco's has that airy silk sensation, live they deliver each song with a rocking attitude with breakdowns and solos every song, pumping you up and leaving you with an itch to groove down. They chew up and shred every last note on 'My Kind of Woman' and the crowd roars after. In between songs they converse and joke and you can see that they clearly enjoy entertaining crowds, each member bringing something to the table- be it unbelievable musicianship or simple wisecracks at the audience.

A man spills his drink on me. He looks unrepentant. I tell him that I don't want to forgive him for that, but luckily I read the Bible before I came out and he's excused. He looks repentant. With one song left they take a chance, toning it down with a small breakdown. They take it in turns doing solos - they thrash about and jump up on equipment. They ride the buzz like a wave made of bees. They cover a verse of 'Enter Sandman' then 'Blackbirds'; they're joking about but they don't realize that what they are doing is actually bitchin'.

And with that they start to play out with 'Still Together'. Mac drops the guitar and embraces the mic. He croons it softly for the audience and they're spellbound. He hands the stage over to a big greasy solo and asks permission to surf. He jumps into the crowd, only to return in time for the next verse.

To summarise their performance: When you go out to a gig you always seem to anticipate seeing that something more from the band that you've never had a chance to see before. Maybe capture the perfect memory of a band that you can retell to others. Mac DeMarco and his gang must know this, as they deliver more than just a 'standard' performance. They present you an edge, an experience that surpasses any recording. One to tell your friends (like I will) and say "Yeah I saw Mac DeMarco live. It was insane! You should see him too!"