Portugal. The Man, Night & Day Cafe, Manchester Friday13th September 2013 (N/A)

When I discovered one of my favourite bands was finally returning to a small venue in Manchester, I was so excited I was probably the first person to buy a ticket. Having just released an album called Evil Friends, the Friday 13th date seemed apt. Portugal. The Man's show at The Roadhouse in March 2011 made an incredible impression, whilst eight months later they played one of the most memorable gigs I've experienced at The Deaf Institute. PtM were also one of my highlights of this year's Coachella, so there was no hesitation in queuing for 3 hours to secure a place at the front. Heavy rain did nothing to dampen my spirits, serving only to remind me of my time in Alaska earlier this year and contemplate the impact of such awesome wilderness on musicians. The support band Sundara Karma from Reading also made a strong impression, belying the fact that they're all just 17 years old, and so too young to drink at Night and Day Cafe.

After Portugal. The Man finally came on stage, it was clear that they more than compensated for the lack of their usual lighting rig, lasers, and fog machine with incredible sonic energy. Those distinctive falsetto vocals were recessed from my position at the front, but I knew most of the words already. It was perhaps the stage layout that dictated Zach Carothers acted as the frontman, but John Gourley did seem to be suffering from the heat in the packed and tiny venue. Yet, this is a band who are totally committed live, putting all their soul into the performance, and they quickly transported me to a different plane. Far from a run through of the album, they stretch and improvise their songs in a wondrously spontaneous whirlwind of sound. The guitar solos were epic, and angular rhythms showed their impeccable ensemble playing as they worked themselves into a frenzy.

This freedom from the constraints of the studio makes what transpired next even more perplexing. The Evil Friends album has attracted generally favourable reviews, and so it's not surprising the set leaned heavily on its songs. There have been a few dissenters, yet even the often pretentious Pitchfork ultimately understood that this was the band's next phase of development, an important progression. When Danger Mouse approached them, Portugal. The Man abandoned the album they were already in the studio recording and started afresh. Gourley has described the relationship as a collaboration so close that Brian Burton had joined the band. This has resulted in an infinitely richer sound, trading some experimentalism for colour and harmony. It's also a personal statement, dealing with the bands relationships with each other; such is their perfectionism that Gourley said: 'The last record almost killed us. This record almost killed us. Every record pretty much almost kills us'.

Yet, the overwhelming impression on this Friday 13th was that Portugal. The Man can rock: the notion they had sold out to a pop gloss was preposterous in the face of a barrage of raw energy. This didn't stop a clearly inebriated member of the audience shouting repeated expletives about Danger Mouse. Following a performance of Modern Jesus, he began to call for songs from their 2006 debut, Waiter: "You Vultures". This clearly struck a raw nerve, and Zach explained that Danger Mouse was real to them right now, whilst returning the insult. Less than an hour after they came on stage, it was all over, encores a distant hope. I fear that Manchester may have a long wait until the Alaskans return again. This is an incredibly hard working band, who tour and record relentlessly, but this felt in vain given their reception. They later Tweeted about the idiocy of shouting at someone with a microphone.

Yes, Evil Friends is a darker album than In The Mountain, In The Cloud, but it's built on psychedelically spaced out vocals and with its wonderful choruses has fun, not anger at its heart. The Beatles are one of their key influences, yet this Friday 13th, love was in short supply. Another gig goer made clear by reference of my appearance that I was out of place in this trendy, metropolitan venue. He was just as lacking in inclusiveness as classical music fans excluding those who chose to dress informally. I'm left failing alienated such values, and despite waiting 48 hours to write this review, I still feel too upset to attempt to analyse the set in detail. Yet I did manage to listen to Waiter: "You Vultures" for the first time in ages. Yes, its stripped back sound is bold and direct in impact, but their development in the past 7 years has been wholly positive. That doesn't stop me wanting to forget this evening though, and questioning my heartfelt belief that music is necessarily a force for good.