U.S. Girls @ Stereo, Glasgow, 26 Oct

Opener Sarah Crean has the sort of lovely melodious voice that has made stars of boygenius and The Staves, her songs filled with similarly well-trod topics like failing relationships and the joy of venting about a shitty ex. But it's a heartfelt cover of Dancing in the Dark that hits the sweetest spot; a touching tribute to her dad delivered with a light touch and far too much onstage smoke.

The four-piece band joining Meg Remy tonight as U.S. Girls get things going without her, playing a punked-up, glammy tune to dust off the cobwebs before she arrives to start off with a loose and limber Like James Said, opener from this year's wonderful Scratch It. Remy is child-free for her first international tour since having kids, and in Glasgow for the first time since 2018. And she wastes no time getting to know the crowd, wringing out every ounce of energy, emotion and fun during an unforgettable performance.

Most songs are prefaced with a semi-improvised intro with some tangential link to what's about to follow. This allows Remy to ask the audience “anyone on their period?” ahead of 28 Days, to playfully needle the crowd about Glasgow's lack of importance before Rage of Plastics, and to riff on farts in the cold for Walking Song. The cue to start a song often seems to be when she pauses for a few seconds to glare at the audience; there's a quiet confrontational edge that pivots moment to moment and demands your full attention at all times.

Much of Scratch It is played in the first half of the set, Remy's voice matching her physicality as she moves from a loping, country twang to angelic high notes to a gritty rasp that would make her apparent idol Patti Smith proud. Dear Patti swoops with bluesy gospel notes, while No Fruit and Like James Said slide by on a bed on smooth, soulful funk.

The ten minute-plus Bookends is where the evening moves from simple excellence into radiant, game-changing brilliance. Remy had already questioned the single metal barrier at the front that wasn't really doing anything, and just ahead of Bookends she marches it straight through the crowd and deposits it in the back. Barriers now figuratively and literally removed, she careens through the multi-part song from crowd to stage and back again, holding onto audience members, falling, crawling and somersaulting, while the band keep the engine running at a steady clip. It should be a moment to catalyse a raucous call to dance, but most of the crowd seem too awestruck to move.

From there, the hits keep coming: an upbeat arrangement undercut by repeated suicide warnings on Sororal Feelings, the slinky grooves of The Island Song, a glimmer of hope across an unknowable divide on Rosebud. Remy has some kind words about the strength of the pound, which is slightly undone by a foreboding “...for now” before the band launch into the dangerously catchy 4 American Dollars, blasting straight into M.A.H. afterwards without a moment to draw breath. It's a potent slice of avant-disco-pop that shows off Remy's voice stretching like putty even at this late stage. And then, as abruptly as it began, it's over. There's no drawn-out goodbyes or even an encore. This is as good as good as it gets; it can only end with a bang.