HMLTD @ Broadcast, Glasgow, 13 Oct

Research says that dogs and owners begin to look alike. So do bands and their gig-goers. HMLTD have garnered a reputation for their ragged live shows, either boundary-pushing and euphoric, or lazy shock value, depending on your stomach. Early performances were a mess of leather, latex, and makeup smeared with bodily fluids, but beneath the bluster, there were immaculate songs and a clear drive for bigger things.

The band pride themselves on their divisiveness, but the tactic seems to be working. They’ve cultivated a following dressed just as glam as they are. HMLTD present themselves as a group of androgynous, angry outsiders, and though there have been questions about their co-opting of queer aesthetics, they’ve created a space where fans can feel comfortable in not conforming to any mainstream standard.

The fanbase runs loud, queer, and tall. A sturdy wall of sequins in the front few rows blocks view of the band in Broadcast’s dinky basement venue. Vocalist Henry Spychalski steps onto an amp, rising to tower over us, hand clutching the roof as plaster flakes away. It can’t be a stable condition, but it somehow looks comfortable, as Spychalski's flamboyant, drawling vocal coasts through the first few lines of Is This What You Wanted? The whisps of guitar suddenly grow violent, and Spychalski shouts lines to be heard above them. The drums up the intensity to match. It feels as if every element is fighting to overpower the rest.

A lot of attention is placed on HMLTD’s look, and for good reason; it’s clear they have thought about it, balancing masculine and feminine, and boundaries of taste, from Imperial sailor-hats, to cheap fishnets. But the band have thought even more about their sound. Tonight, brittle electronics merge with stark punk aggression, plastic EDM and occasional flashes of goth, Americana, d‘n’b. With just a few songs released, it’s hard to know where this experimental band are going, but they’re captivating whatever they consume and spit back out. They’re surprisingly tame given their reputation for outlandish stage antics, but the tightness of their performance makes for a good trade-off.

Music! is a highlight, its anxious krautrock rhythm giving way to a buoyant, glittering chorus that could be confused for Kylie if it wasn’t so drenched in cynicism. Spychalski's voice twists into new shapes on the hook, finding bold ways to blurt out the track’s title. To the Door is the closest the band come to a straightforward indie rock cut, and even that crumbles into a cacophony halfway through. The band close with Stained, a nihilistic punk offering that summates their mission statement – to bask in the filth and look good doing it. HMLTD are only a few singles deep and they’re already living up to their cult ambitions.