Digitalism made one of the albums of 2007. After carving out their reputation at the electronic coalface, remixing Franz Ferdinand, the White Stripes, the Cure and the Klaxons, the German duo released a debut packed with propulsive, tune-heavy electro that took its lead from Daft Punk and Kraftwerk.
But while Digitalism's dance-music heroes trade in live-show mystique - wearing futuristic headgear or impersonating pre-programmed bank managers - Jens Moelle and Ismail Tüfekçi do things differently. Tonight, they are refreshingly human in the indie-rock uniform of black T-shirts and jeans. Both are 25: Moelle is the cute geek, all flailing limbs, neat haircut and squeaky enthusiasm, while Tüfekçi plays the part of the adorably chubby, party-loving doofus.
They surge through their set in front of a screen that pays homage to the retro-futurist visual imagery of the early 1980s. Panaromas of minimalist tower blocks, planetary systems and the prevailing colours of black and green cascade behind them; the effect is simple and thrilling.
Moelle and Tüfekçi blast with energy, too. Behind their banks of decks they jump, shout and - appropriately, given the name of their summer hit - pogo. Moelle yells into a Sinatra-style silver microphone positioned centre-stage, delivering sweetly clunky, occasionally lost-in-translation lyrics about magnets and futuristic silence with charm and bite. Tüfekçi goes further, cupping his hand theatrically to his ear to egg on the crowd, manically battering an electronic drum kit and, at one delirious moment, running in front of the decks. He wiggles his bottom in front of the fans, then lowers his round, beardy face into the crowd, and a sea of hands tug his chin. It's a brilliantly surreal sight at a dance gig but it only adds to the fun.
The pace never lets up, as befits good club music - and, crucially, good rock music, too. For Digitalism straddle both worlds, referencing both their pasts and their presents playfully and brilliantly. Although at times the boys' bounciness takes your attention away from the hard power of their music, at others it only makes the show more stimulating. "We had the biggest party ever," they holler on Homezone as the show surges to a close: on this form, they'd best start bulk-ordering the bubbly.
