Florence and the Machine @ SECC, 12 March

Florence Welch has come an amazingly long way since emerging into the public eye on a wave of hype back in 2008. High on promise, but short on substance, her early live shows were fun if lightweight affairs – a charge which could never be levelled at her now.

Her huge art deco stage backdrop and the glossy programmes more than hint at it – Welch has pirouetted into a mainstream where her calculated sense of style, massive voice, and theatrical stage antics have already bequeathed her a status close to that of bona fide icon.

She’s even got two support bands, the first of which – East London’s Spector – play tunes, such as What You Wanted and the closing belter Never Fade Away which hint that the five-piece might be troubling the larger venues again soon. Frontman Fred Macpherson certainly has the chops and the voice, and once the more indie-landfill lull that dogs the middle of their set is weeded out, good things surely await.

The Horrors also take the epic route with tonight's swansong Still Life, a notable highlight in a set hamstrung by a stage set up for a big stadium sound which just doesn't suit them. The progressive work of last year's sublime Skying sounds disappointingly murky and weak here, where in a smaller venue these songs have proven sharp enough to take your ears off.

What surprises and delights about Florence, though, is not the opulence of the big occasion, but the bare bones of her now well–honed craft. It's in the way that recent single Shake It Out builds on the gospel vibe of that ubiquitous Candi Staton cover You’ve Got the Love by adding house piano and provoking the most euphoric crowd reaction these eyes have seen outside of a dance show for a long time. Or the way that stripping back the sometimes cloying production of Ceremonials exposes her pounding live arrangements, which pull off the neat and nigh on impossible trick of making the SECC feel intimate.

Careful attention has been paid to earlier weaknesses; a billowing cape is whipped off before endearing becomes irritating, while the choir tethers Florence's previously octave vaulting choruses. Choreographed to within an inch of its life, this is no spontaneous celebration of rock n roll abandon, but for those who like their choruses massive, their narratives theatrical, and their capes gold and sparkly, there’s nothing around at the moment to best Florence and the Machine.