Star rating: **** Although it did not particularly seem so at the time, this was, in retrospect, a very strange gig indeed, and the signs were that it seemed so to the Danish 10-piece ensemble as much as to their audience. Only for the last song - in effect an encore although the band never left the stage - did the quietly enthusiastic listeners get to their feet, although the set had been far from downbeat from the start and at times recalled nothing so much as that propulsive dry white funk pioneered by David Byrne and Brian Eno on My Life in the Bush of Ghosts. The Glasgow crowd remained curiously reserved however, confounding frontman Casper Clausen who, he told us, had been led to expect a rowdy reception for his band's costumes and moustaches.

Indeed, with the exception of pianist Anna, looking like a blonde PJ Harvey in a red frock, Efterklang are visually distinctive, in white SS-style jodhpurs and suspenders and black shirts. It is all a bit Laibach, but much less threatening than the totalitarian Slovenians. "Look how happy Anna is today," observed Casper, surely aware that many of us had been taking a close interest in the attractive Scandinavian damsel. Like the rest of the band she turned her hand to a spot of percussion and lent her voice to the unique choral sound which is a crucial ingredient of the Efterklang experience. It was a tightly rehearsed and musically impressive performance, and the claustrophic acoustics of the space suited it perfectly.

"This is a really nice evening. It is," said Casper, perhaps seeking reassurance. And it was. Really. Just a bit weird.