Alcoholic Faith Mission, Camden Bar Fly

Standing in the black-walled gloom of the Bar Fly in Camden, I suddenly realise that I’m one of only a couple of dozen people completely transfixed by the band on the stage. Perhaps this is because, to most of the audience, they are just the third act in a kind of three-for-the-price-of-one night, and they simply don’t have the necessary party vibe that’s required to bring Saturday night to a satisfactory end. But as I find this Copenhagen outfit’s sublime, intense and obliquely romantic brand of indie rock one of the most compelling sounds I’ve heard in the past few months, I can’t help but feel disappointed on their behalf. They really deserve better than this.

But then again, they don’t do themselves any favours by beginning their set with the pensive ambient ballad “Escapism”, as it’s barely loud enough to compete with the continuing chatter emanating from a large proportion of the audience, many of whom seem oblivious to the fact that the band have even started. But to their credit, Alcoholic Faith Mission isn’t the kind of band who are going to meet an audience half way. You’re either with them or you don’t figure in their scheme of things at all. So, admirably unfazed, this five-piece simply deliver their epic yet intimate songs with the precision and focus of a chamber orchestra, as much for their own pleasure as for the pleasure of the few of us who care.

The petite blond vocalist and keyboard player, Kristine Permild, stands centre-stage, delivering her little girl vocals which act as a perfect foil to the other lead vocalist, Thorben Seieroe, who is a much more intense presence, thrashing away at an acoustic guitar and leaning into his microphone as if he’s about to take a bite out of it. And the line up is completed by Sune Soelund on bass and samples, Laurids Smedegaard on drums, and Gustav Rasmussen on guitar and trombone.

I’m always intrigued when a band manages to circumvent all my normal prejudices in order to creep under my skin. There’s no obvious reason why this doomy but sensitive indie rock band meets early-eighties synth pop band meets righteous wall-of-sound band should have brought me to this dingy place. In fact, I wasn’t convinced at all of their potential for world domination by their 2008 effort, 421 Wythe Avenue. It’s most memorable song, “Gently”, is perhaps memorable for all the wrong reasons. An arrangement of lullaby tenderness functions as a kind of feathery duvet backing over which vocalist Kristine Permild breathily intones, “Just coz I’m a whore, you know it doesn’t mean I don’t feel it when you fuck me gently.” Its suspect conceit of juxtaposing "controversial" lyrics and a pretty tune wears a little thin after a couple of listens, and so thankfully we were spared its cheap shock tactics last night (although it may have at least shut up a few people!)

After a mere forty-five minutes the band wrap things up with the delightfully titled “Got Love? Got Shellfish!” from their new and best album Let This Be the Last Night We Care. It’s an angular slice of arty pop with a glorious chorus and so really should have guaranteed them an encore, but the crowd just go on sipping and chatting and so the band swiftly leave the stage. Young people today, eh!

• Find Alcoholic Faith Mission CDs on Amazon