It isn’t hard to feel confused while listening to Stealing Sheep. Like many a Liverpudlian band before them, the trio pull from a varied grab bag of sonic inspirations. On the one hand, they can sound like a mossy, pagan-pop trio of forest nymphs, as displayed on their 2012 debut Into the Diamond Sun. On the other, they’re purveyors of the swelling and rich art-pop crammed into their recent follow-up album, Not Real. On this night they swing back and forth, ricocheting between psych-rock sprawls and electrifying displays of skilled musicianship – but not without the occasional wobble.

Keyboardist Becky Hawley, guitarist Emily Lansley and drummer Lucy Mercer appear 25 minutes later than scheduled – perhaps they were digesting the 10pm general election exit poll results – and have to work to keep the attention of an initially fidgety crowd. It doesn’t help that mismatched audio levels at first bury their signature vocal harmonies beneath booming drums. But they soon settle in, drenching the crowd in the infectious wonky pop of Greed – beautifully sung by Mercer – and tingling steel lap guitar on single Not Real.

Stealing Sheep exist in a slightly tripped-out state of harmony. A loosely egalitarian charm arises from the dynamic of having three bandmates on stage, all sharing singing duties. It can feel a bit peace-sign-and-Kumbaya, especially when they bring lanky past collaborator Mei Jones and giggly nine-piece choir Deep Throat on stage, but befits a band who don’t rely on a single charismatic lead singer to carry the performance.

The essence of their songs, teeming with syncopated rhythms, quivering synths and tick-tock percussive touches, translates well, even at points when the set sags and they lose some of their Animal Collective-like momentum. Though Lansley’s deadpan quips often fall flat and Hawley’s smiley cheer fails to rouse much of an audience reaction between songs, their robust instrumental wig-outs inspire the loudest roars.