The 1975's live show needs to be seen to be believed, but it's not all about spectacle

Live music, eh? It's brilliant, but sometimes not as brilliant as it could be. Often visceral, there's always the occasional work-a-day band of box tickers, happy to just play the songs and get out of Dodge before the lights come up. It's especially true when the lesser-spotted 'bunch of indie boys' manage to drag themselves up to major arena status. A bit more smoke, a louder sound system, an oversized banner for a backdrop - that'll do, right? The 1975 are not that band. Not even close.

There are probably hard facts and figures that would disprove the notion that they're de facto the biggest band on the planet right now, but there are few that could discount the assertion they might be the most important to the greatest number of engaged, enthusiastic fans. From before the doors open, The O2 is buzzing. Queues surge as security tries to get 20,000 wide-eyed devotees into the capital's premier enormodome all at once. Half empty plastic bottles and discarded blankets lie piled at the barriers - that determination to make it in, usually reserved for the front few rows, is transmitted to the whole audience before even getting inside the venue.

That's The 1975's base level - borderline euphoria. It's still two hours before they'll even hit the stage, and the anticipation is palpable. It's an atmosphere that doesn't only envelop the headline act. Collaborator and current muse No Rome might well be giving one of his first major live performances on one of the biggest stages in the country, but he's far from an unknown. Dirty Hit increasingly feels more like a family than a record label, and it's that kind of loving embrace that greets a short but sweet set that marks out a definite Future Pop Star.

Pale Waves, on the other hand, remain a phenomenon all of their own. Turns out, big, dark sheds suit them perfectly. Pulsing with red and white lights and an over-order of dry ice, they cut effortless shapes so sharp they should require help from a grown-up. Like the house band at the biggest school prom on the planet, the highlights of last year's debut 'My Mind Makes Noises' grow ever more strident and confident with every outing, their intrinsic wide-eyed naivety more a superpower than a barrier to overcome. By the time their breakout 'There's A Honey' fades, you'd be forgiven for asking if there was any chance of a bit more.