Formed in the shadows of the Rocky Mountains, Denver's Czars have a big sound which they have somehow shoehorned into this tiny pub. There are five people in the band; singer John William Grant is a six-foot colossus, although the blonde, female multi-instrumentalist is as tiny as a nine-year-old child. Their instrumentation is vast: various guitars, a sizeable drum kit, a violin, shaker, echoey Roland keyboard, a weird, squelching synthesiser and what looks like a clock radio.
Perhaps we should have expected this from a band with influences as diverse as Patsy Cline, Radiohead, Cabaret Voltaire and the Cocteau Twins. The Czars seem determined to create the most enrapturing, enormous sounds around. So far they are succeeding, with rapturous reviews for their two albums. Their new EP, X Would Rather Listen to Y, contains their most stunning work yet. However, despite the acclaim, they remain an unknown pleasure. But the small throng that squeeze in here are in for a treat.
Grant's voice is big on record; live, it is the size of the Rockies themselves. This man looks like the Aphex Twin with pigtails, but sounds like Morrissey duetting with Roy Orbison in a wind tunnel. As an awed hush descends, he loses himself in electro-country-bluesy songs about unrequited love and stolen childhood. The atmosphere is unfortunately interrupted by Alvin Stardust drifting in from the bar, an apt metaphor for how detached these magical, supernatural road songs sound from the everyday world.
The band clearly think a lot and aim high, with themes of escape and an almost religious serenity. Little details, such as the drummer's luscious work with beaters, show how much they care. Grant's voice is the constant: the music evolves around him. When songs speed up, his voice stays at the same pace, giving proceedings the dizzy delirium of a braking rollercoaster.
The band should work on their stage charisma. Grant says little and has an irritating habit of singing with one finger on an in-ear headphone, although the guitarist deserves credit for leaping off the drum riser below a low ceiling. It may take a film soundtrack to propel their music to a wider public. However, songs such as One Single Thing - a kind of disturbed Wichita Lineman - don't just take your breath away; they run with it from the building.
· At the Borderline, London, tonight and tomorrow. Box office: 020-7734 2095. Then touring to Manchester and Brighton.
