The odds are stacked against Paul Thomas Saunders from the start tonight. For one thing this meek, mumbling singer-songwriter insists on using his middle name, making him seem off-puttingly posh. He has a cringe worthy earring too – not just a stud, but a proper dangly Captain Jack Sparrow cast-off that he probably picked up on his gap year. Plus, he looks no older than about fourteen. And then as if you weren’t already annoyed enough, Saunders starts playing and he’s actually rather good. The swine!

As it turns out, Saunders is in his early 20s and has been winning fans for a while, having released his debut EP, ‘Four Songs In Twilight’, last year. His short-but-sweet set tonight echoes The Antlers in its shapeless sincerity, as folk melodies gently repeat and choruses fade in and out. There’s also something of Jeff Buckley’s dark soul evoked in his pained falsetto, but only occasionally does that emotion break through the singer’s restraint, when he strikes an amplifier with his duct-taped acoustic guitar, sending a storm of feedback ricocheting around the room.

There are lighter moments as hymnal chord cadences rise from the mist of a shoegazing electric guitar, atmospheric keyboards and a pitter-patter of drums, all being quietly controlled by Saunders’ shy backing band, The Fever Dreams. For a set that’s only five songs long, there are some real stylistic contrasts, with dramatic folk crescendos at one end and energetic 1980s new wave at the other. There’s still some fat to be trimmed from the edges of Saunders’ work, but he plays beautifully, making him very difficult to hate after all.

Robert Cooke