IT IS difficult to think of a more exciting live band on the scene at the moment than this flamboyantly-dressed bunch.

HMLTD's show at The Haunt was another example – after last year's Great Escape slot – of their contagious exuberance, innovative sound and adoring fans.

By the end of their 45 minute show they had whipped their young audience into such a frenzy that several crowd members invaded the stage, forcing security to get involved. That's without mentioning the gleeful crowd-surfers.

Frontman Henry Spychalski told The Argus recently that he cares little for genres or categorisation, and this was abundantly evident in a set that lurched from bass-driven rock to glitchy electronica with a generous sprinkling of pop hooks along the way.

All of this was underpinned by Henry's evocative vocal. Whether he was releasing a demented howl or delivering a touching ode, his voice was never less than gripping. You just can't take your eye off him. One moment he's twitching around the stage with a manic expression, the next he's clambering onto the top of an 8-ft speaker.

The set was off to a stormer with Proxy Love, one of a handful of songs played that haven't been published (HMLTD haven't got an album under their belt yet).

In a sense, the track demonstrates what the band do best. An unsettling opening with lines like "I'll take the whip" abruptly gives way to a glossy, gloriously catchy chorus: "We yearn for love/that's what we're dreaming of".

The ability to switch between tones and moods in the blink of an eye is an incredibly difficult skill for a musician to pull off but HMLTD have mastered it only a few years after forming.

Henry and co reached their excitable peak in Kinkaku-Ji, in which the frontman repeated the song's title with ever-increasing delirium. It was matched by that of the crowd, whose animated reaction was literally shaking The Haunt to its foundations. In contrast to their undeniable energy, HMLTD proved they could initiate a slow and moving singalong with recent single Satan, Luella and I.

Fans lifted their arms to the sky as Henry delivered line after striking line. "I met Satan in a cheap motel/she talked at length about Orson Welles" was belted back at him with particular relish.

The final double-punch of To The Door and Stained was met with a predictably raucous response and the throbbing electronic climax of the latter was extended into a disorientating, thrilling ball of noise as the band left the stage.

Performers of this magnetism don't come around too often. Everybody should take the chance to see them at their height of their powers.