It would be easy to assume that crippling technical difficulties would result in a terrible gig; luckily you couldn't be further from the truth.

The Low Anthem performance at the Southbank Center turned out to be the ultimate armchair experience. Far removed from the sweaty, cramped gig convention (read hideous discomfort), the gig was less of a balance of trying to hear and see the band, and more a case of 'overseeing the performance'. After all, the combination of arm-rested velvet seats, a huge imposing hall and phenomenal acoustics was an appealing one (I am truly aging prematurely). Sure, seated auditorium gigs might not suit every band, but it turned out to be the perfect accompaniment to an evening of delicate, folk music.

For all its charms, The Queen Elizabeth Hall was far from kind to the Rhode Island four piece. At first, venue served to perfectly frame the band's delicate sound, spotlighting the subtle harmonies and lyric-driven music that characterises the band. Indeed, the acoustics were so impressive and the sound so subtle that the many camera shutters could be heard during the quieter 'Ticket Taker', leading lead singer Ben Knox Miller to ridicule 'the fake shutter sounds on digital cameras'. The performance saw the band repeatedly switching between a seemingly endless array of unusual instrument - a spectacle aptly akin to a Royal Variety Show. Smothered in Wild West iconography and somber spotlighting, the band rumbled through songs from their three previous albums, stopping only to switch instruments and welcome on guest members.

101/365: The Low Anthem at Queen Elizabeth Hall

Photo by Sapphire Mason-Brown

Yet, however much the venue supplied an ideal canvas to the Low Anthem's music, it also dished up significant technical problems. Indeed, half way through the set, deafening crackles and pops led to an announcement that the band had to stop until the problem was sorted. As consolation, the band climbed over the seats trailed by dim lighting, a bewildered audience and a double bass to play unplugged. What seemed like a disaster in fact turned out to be the perfect blessing in disguise. The unique intimacy of the band's subtle folk sound was hugely amplified as they filled the mammoth hall with their sweet harmonies - the audience's appreciation was clear as they swamped the band.

As Miller himself confessed, "it was a strange night". Yet, it was an inspiringly strange night at that, which is after all what makes a truly memorable performance.