Moments later, a sprawling, climactic jam of Floydian psych-rock improbably morphs into early Segall fave Girlfriend, like a Magic Eye poster finally coming into focus. Segall returns for a solo acoustic encore of My Lady’s on Fire, only this time the voices that earlier threatened to drown him out are now singing along with him. While a couple of the sludgier tunes might aim for gold but score only grunge, the lysergic biker-rock of Hello, Hi is transformed into glorious powerpop by its acid harmonies and McCartney-esque flourishes, while Alta’s languid swing between spaced-out Grateful Dead jamming and colossal, slow-building crescendos lends it a cosmic, epic vibe. Crucially, they transcend mere 70s revivalism by the gleeful venom with which they attack these songs, and the way the restlessly inventive Segall laces even the gnarliest of riff-outs with pop stardust. A power quintet with twin lead guitars, and keyboardist Ben Boye lending a proggy undertow, the Freedom Band play loud and they play long (like their hair).

However, the primal, concise garage-pop nuggets on which Segall surfed to cult status are mostly absent tonight, replaced by squalling, heavy rock marathons. Nevertheless, deafening cheers do greet the arrival of Segall’s Freedom Band colleagues, and the plugging in of their amplifiers.

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