Familiarity breeds contempt, and James have been a fixture on the British musical landscape for so long that it is very easy to take them for granted. Yet staggering shows such as this confirm that these giddy, quixotic Mancunians are one of the most remarkable bands of their generation.

It’s bizarre that when they emerged, more than 30 years ago, they were initially regarded as little more than Smiths copyists. Their music has always been exuberant, vivacious and big-hearted, defined as much by Andy Diagram’s jubilant spirals of trumpet as by traditional indie guitar.

So much of their appeal, though, rests in idiosyncratic and charismatic Tim Booth. Surfing the crowd, or ecstatic-dancing like a marionette with a drunken puppet master, he remains a perpetually driven, questing figure, forever striving lyrically to only connect and to roll the world into a question. It’s hard to imagine a more vital or less jaded frontman.

The songs from this year’s underrated album, La Petite Mort, hit home as hard as do the staples from their vast back catalogue. Walk Like You is essentially a pained yet resigned musical reading of Larkin’s celebrated analysis of what your mum and dad do to you; the boisterous Curse Curse detours into techno to express its heady euphoria as Booth yodels: “I think too much, don’t get me excited.”

He is that most paradoxical of entities, a contrary, aloof everyman, exciting adulation during the encore as he prowls the stage during a mass singalong of crowd favourite Sometimes. Its far-fetched claims ring true: after all these years, James still seem to be striving to look deep in your eyes and to see your soul.

• At First Direct Arena, Leeds, 23 November. Tickets: 0844-248 1585