Live Review: Slowdive, Kane Ikin

After 29 years, Berkshire shoegaze pioneers Slowdive finally came to us, immaculate and iridescent.

Their return to the scene felt like welcoming explorers back from deep space. They seemed to have found something out there and were overjoyed at being able to share their discovery. Their critically lauded self-titled LP from last year arrived fully formed and crammed with new ideas that were free of self-reflexive nostalgia. They're a band running forward, not using their legacy as a crutch.

Their sold-out performance at Metro Theatre was an obvious testament to their popularity, but the all-ages decree was indicative of how surprisingly wide their appeal is. You had alt-rock lifers with bellies and long-faded Stone Roses shirts rubbing shoulders with norm-core kids with braces and high-waisted jeans nodding along to Kane Ikin, the Melbourne producer chosen to open. It was a grim, industrial set that gradually morphed into a brief and gripping deep-house finish that was an interesting counterpoint to Slowdive's sweeping opulence.

Slowdive exceeded expectations. It defies belief that they've been mothballed for 25 years and yet still sound so polished. The setlist was deep. The shimmering drama of Slomo sounded magnificent. They were generous with the opening, letting it set the tone of the room under swirling, tie-dyed colours. The moody, ambient-pop mastery of Pygmalion's Crazy For You was an impressive tribute to the 'troubled child' album that ended phase one of their career.

Star Roving dominated. The celestial guitar attack that forms its spine was juiced-up by returning drummer Simon Scott (not seen since Souvlaki, their crown jewel) and bass player Nick Chaplin, and the song ballooned into something so brash it almost seemed out of place. The soothing harmony of Rachel Goswell and Neil Halstead deflated the machismo.

The inevitable rendition of Alison was muscular and sharp, the rhythm section pushed right out in front. It still retained its woozy romantic power, but it was more urgent, more energised. Catch The Breeze was pure, crystalised shoegaze, its final moments a paradise of pink noise.

They finished with a Syd Barrett cover, Golden Hair (a reading of James Joyce's poem published in 1907), a fantastic opportunity to let Scott's kit-work construct a sophisticated framework for the guitars to weave a gauzy web around. It was a meditative piece that guided the band back to shore after an extraordinary set. The stripped-back gloom of Dagger opened up the floor for 40 Days, their final encore track.

Slowdive's lavish debut Australian gig was a huge success. It's rare for a band to come back with so much life after so long. Their sound has found a new home among a new generation yearning for unfiltered euphoria amid an increasingly rough reality that attempts to sooth itself with plastic, pre-packaged nonsense. Their show was a valiant attempt at promoting the idea of music as a panacea and will be incredibly hard to topple during year-end list compilations.