It's been roughly a year since Liars took to the pebbled shores of The Green Door Store, suited head-to-toe holding a note in their hands that read 'WiXiW'. On Saturday night, Aaron Hemphill, Julian Gross and Angus Andrew crept onto stage at 9pm, casually dressed but with a resolute intensity that indicated an idiosyncratic show from the New York based-trio that, in recent years, Brighton has been spoilt with.

The night was almost abstract; months, worldwide touring their last record seemed to have culminated so abruptly, as something new fast begun. Liars' set was composed mostly with new songs, something that everybody could've detected from the novel mysterious opener. Driven by cyclical textural development, grainy falsetto and spontaneous, evolving rhythms, the opening numbers combined like the beginning of a record. Andrew's vocal remained entirely engulfing as he swayed from side-to-side, clasping the microphone with his hand and signalling with his spare arm like the face of a clock.

'Eat my face': a cyclical sample speaks centrally whilst the three rock back and forth almost therapeutically, hunched over their respective machinery. Soon after, Hemphill swapped onto a guitar, and the material shifted subtly. Sections staggered by, willingly becoming submerged in enigmatic synthesisers but were defined by the androgynous, watermarked tones of Liars' guitars. Nobody in the world could identify that as a guitar with their ears only, especially in The Haunt's obscure, bottleneck shape.

Since I caught the trio in the latter stages of November, their setup had changed significantly: with the loss of nearly two full drum kits, a lot less up front, and Gross shifted himself between completely different workstations. This is a long-recognised feature of the group; in 2007 when they were touring the self-titled album they played at the Brighton Barfly with two drum kits and a slew of guitars.

"My little way to keep us in the papers, we like to truck it out, it's our own gamble" – rapture seized the crowd's face as 'Brats' exploded. Soon enough, pieces like 'Who is the Hunter?' and 'WIXIW' arrive with bursts of adrenaline. This is matched by enthusiastically blurted lyrics about faction and fiction in the conflicted new song, 'Mess on a Mission'.

"Sorry, but just we're going to play a few more new songs for you" - my initial reactions to WIXIW, a record I love, were that it resembled Mid-Warp, but this new material is something wholly different, both aphotic and invigorating. "Thanks, Brighton." It felt like they'd been playing for twenty minutes but a flash of a watch told a fifty-minute story.

The encore arrives: 'No 1 Against The Rush' warbles and tantalises poignantly, yet the inspiring and maddening nature of 'Broken Witch' sends the building into frenzy: "I, I am the boy, she, she is the girl, he, he is the bear!" Andrew clawed and screamed, making triumphant wild gestures that would make Werner Herzog proud.

"Blood!"