The Antlers, The Kazimier, Liverpool, 28 October

“I lost my voice yesterday,” apologises Peter Silberman, trying to make us all understand that his shots at the high notes may fall somewhat flat. It’s all nonsense, of course. Regardless of how ragged his vocal chords may be feeling, they’re still capable of piloting a one-stop trip to the heavens, with opener Palace a case in point. Piano chords frame mournful trumpet motifs, as the affable frontman builds deftly from delicate croons to immaculate existential warbles – if there’s trouble afoot, he masks it superbly. Ah yes, and at this point it’s probably worth explaining that The Antlers are completely, utterly captivating.

Songs rise and swell with the effortless, ethereal grace of prime Mercury Rev; doused in doom-laden psychedelia and bound by instant melodic simplicity. The wracked crescendos of Doppelgänger stand out in particular, as dual trumpets crack and weave around each other amid a maelstrom of portentous echo. The moment when Kettering’s beautiful fragility explodes into elegiac cacophony illustrates the stunning complexity – both sonic and emotional – of the band’s vastly impressive oeuvre, but the warmest cheers are reserved for fan favourite I Don’t Want Love. The audience cheers wildly upon hearing the crashing chords that introduce the song – dramatic without bombast, powerful without overpowering. Indeed, The Antlers’ greatest trick is to build their graceful simplicity into tidal waves of textured chaos without ever truly engulfing the softness at its core. And in the eye of the storm, there’s Silberman: keening his troubles away and subsuming our woes with his own. Lost voice or no, it’s no challenge to lose oneself to The Antlers’ wonderful, celestial beauty.