Black Country, New Road's latest chapter proves an exciting prospect at London's Bush Hall

It was only last year that their raucous and riotous Mercury-nommed debut ‘For The First Time’ came out to a euphoric response from fans willing to jump into their particular slice of musical chaos pie. Following rapidly in its trail, the more fragile and tender ‘Ants From Up There’ crept into view in February - its emotional impact only heightened by the departure of ‘frontman’ (if that is a thing in their world) Isaac Wood days before its release, due to mental health reasons. What could have been a final full stop for the band has instead turned only into a new chapter, with a batch of new material emerging over the summer to replace the older stuff that the band now say will not be played live again.

Tipping up to Bush Hall on a freezing night in West London then, that summer of festival appearances has turned the hype dial up from a curious ‘what are they gonna do now?’ to a healthy buzz. The tiny stage, decked out as a pastoral scene complete with fluffy little clouds dangling from the ceiling, (each one of the three shows they are playing has a different theme, so tonight we are in farm country, of course), gives off the vibe of being at a school play - helped by the band’s outfits as they emerge. Lewis Evans in particular gives off an air of being able to rustle up a sheepdog or two if he hits the right note on his flute. “Everyone feeling pastoral?” he grins, the only reference to what is happening on stage. It’s all carried off with the sort of ridiculous knowing air of nonsense and humour that cuts through any thought that this band is ‘too serious’.

‘Up Song’ sets the stall out, building from simplicity into a crashing crescendo and back out the other side in a way that swings those Bush Hall chandeliers straight away. It’s like playing to a home crowd, those down the front of the audience seeming to know pretty much every word to songs that not only have not been released but have barely even been played live in the UK much yet, willing the band on through some early sound difficulties. Isaac’s departure has ushered in a new phase of rotating singers, each bringing their own personalities and distinct styles to the front in a way that’s pretty damn captivating to watch. Tyler Hyde brings a fragility and heartbroken air to theatrical tracks like ‘I Won’t Always Love You’ (not a response to the Whitney Houston banger, sadly) and ‘Laughing Song’, her voice almost seeming to break with emotion at times. Lewis croons his way through the Patrick Wolf-y ‘Across The Pond Friend’ and ‘The Wrong Trousers’, full of old-school charm and underplayed confidence. The completely hidden May Kershaw is the (literal) secret weapon though, as the stunning ‘Turbine / Pigs’ begins to take its place as possibly the best thing the band has done yet. Half the group crouch together on the floor to watch her, the track sprawling and spiraling out of a pin-drop silence surrounding her piano solo into a deafening roar of thunderstorm sound and lightning strike energy from drummer Charlie Wayne - it seems to suck the very air out of the room.