JANE Weaver is a suitably Sunday performer. Her beguiling cosmic melodies are a fitting alternative to the peaceful Sunday drive and the obligatory roast.

Weaver looked out through her blonde locks and cast a silver-lidded eye over the crammed Bodega before charging into Argent, a kraut-rock 8-minute epic.

In front of hazy projections of sun-drenched images and abstract close-ups, the glimmering synths matched the twinkle of Weaver’s sequined jacket. The heavy psyche, hair-swishing breakdowns and fuzz-filled crescendos were tamed by Weaver’s unfaltering quintessentially English tones, despite the nod to space- rockers, Hawkwind.

With a disgruntled word to the Mercury Prize and her album The Silver Globe’s lack of a nomination, Weaver shared her disappointment and her wish to “infiltrate the system, it’s dark. It’s so dark it’s like a David Lynch film”. With a history in indie pop and folktronica bands and running a record label, Weaver knows the industry all too well and dedicates the harmonious and infectious Don’t Take My Soul to the music business.

Her last single, Mission Desire, was met with a scattered cheer of praise as the chunky bassline boomed out below Weaver’s shiver- inducing and unearthly vocals. For Arrows, Weaver was immersed in a cool, blue light with crackly, vintage images rolling behind; her timid echoes swirled around the Bodega.

Stealing Gold was a fond farewell as she playfully scaled the vocal heights through a flurry of crunchy synthesisers and electric guitar squeals. An out-of-this-world Sunday from the comfort of our city centre.


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