Nap Eyes / Haley Heynderickx @ The Hug & Pint, Glasgow, 10 May

It’s always so emboldening, as someone who has championed an artist in reviews, or just been embarrassingly vocally on Twitter, to rock up at a gig and see a whole load of like-minded individuals equally stoked for the same musician.

It’s even more exciting when that act is merely the support, as is the case with Haley Heynderickx in her warm-up slot for Nap Eyes at The Hug & Pint tonight. Riding a wave in Glasgow alone that was sparked by her wonderful, flourishing album I Need to Start a Garden, via a packed but intimate gig on Record Store Day in Park Road shop LP Records, and culminating tonight.

While the record may be garnished with a fuller band, here Heynderickx stands solitary with guitar and voice. The Portlander demands to occupy your full attention; her songs are bursting with life – in the case of The Bug Collector, quite literally so – and her words in-between are entirely down to earth, which makes it all the more worrying that a group of loud chatters at the back continue to speak even after being angrily shhhed. Her far-too-short set is a triumph, with the explosion of guitar at the climax of Untitled God Song a special thrill, and the inclusion of non-album tracks like Big Ol' Miyazaki Tears and Ayon’s Kitchen a surprising treat. It's a testament to the quality of her writing and the enormity of her promise that word of Haley Heynderickx has spread with such speed that she nearly fills out the venue early on. Professing her love of Glasgow, which she does a couple of times tonight, will do her no harm here either.

Nap Eyes, who take to the stage a little later than expected, are something else entirely. Rarely do you see a band who can appear at once tight and loose, and yet the Canadians manage it. Vocalist, guitarist and chief songwriter Nigel Chapman’s Lou Reed-esque drawl is finely tuned, while bassist Josh Salter is totally out of it or extremely into it.

Judgement, from excellent new album I’m Bad Now, is the perfect opener: circling guitars and marching drums driven along by an earworm bassline that builds to a satisfying payoff. Instant classic Every Time the Feeling is rapturously received, and the quartet even drop in a Feelies cover which fits in seamlessly. They round off with No Fear of Hellfire, a hazy seven plus minute odyssey. Amid the squall, one can’t help but let the mind wander back to Heynderickx's show-stealing with much less of a racket.