Elvis Depressedly / TV Girl @ Star & Garter, Manchester, 25 Apr

If there’s anything to be said for lo-fi noisemakers Elvis Depressedly, they sure know how to pick a venue: in fact, the group would be hard-pushed to find a more ideal setting for their lightly broody sound (and that of their equally broody companions) than Manchester’s dimly intimate Star & Garter.

Taking to a stage lightly christened with dust, It’s hard to tell if rookie support duo Pet Cemetery are humbled by their audience or afraid of them. Nethertheless, they proceed to successfully rattle through a number of comfortingly anxious – albeit slightly amateurish – tunes, accompanied by a brief interlude of chat about Kevin Spacey movies. The set mainly consists of hollow, enthusiastic drumbeats (as the drummer refuses to sit down) and throngs of jangly guitar, sandwiched together with a sickly-sweet murmur of vocals.

Next comes a set from the formidable indie-electronica outfit TV Girl. These LA natives seem a little more self-assured than their fresh-faced predecessors: however, this could just be a symptom of the venue’s gleeful front row which, by now, consists almost entirely of bubbly indie-pop fanatics. TV Girl craft a refreshing mix of sample-driven electro and bright, bustling melodies, with songs like I Wonder Who She’s Kissing Now boasting a bonus air of witty lyricism. It’s not long before frontman Brad Petering charms the entire audience with his subtly heartfelt vocal – in just a few brief tracks, the room is transformed from relatively tame to a mass of dancing feet.

Sadly, they prove a tricky act to follow. Despite the welcome addition of Petering’s breezy basslines, ethereal headliners Elvis Depressedly have a much harder time gelling with the audience. Yet, their set is one fraught with gorgeously-crafted soundscapes – lifting themselves from the somewhat stodgy constraints of their lo-fi recordings, the group intertwine unwaveringly emotive vocals with a rattling drumbeat to craft something altogether more crisp.

The achingly dreamy Weird Honey proves a firm highlight, as the formation of a soft electronic bed from multi-instrumentalist Delaney Mills utterly compliments Mathew Lee Cohran’s darkly tender refrain (“If there’s a cold spot in hell, I know you’ll get it”). Admittedly, the showcase lacked any sort of ‘big finish’. But that didn’t really matter: for this gathering of the sincerely morose, perhaps an understated finale is the most apt.