Pearl and The Puppets

Friday 14 February, Valentine's Day: paradigm-shifting journalism here as we report the presence of couples at Cabaret Voltaire. Everywhere you look, it’s an orgy of gazing, hand-holding and gratuitous public displays of affection. It’s not hard to understand the appeal of Pearl and The Puppets to Edinburgh’s young and in-love; the Glasgow band have made their name peddling the most sweet-natured, inoffensive indie-pop imaginable.

Debutant clearly didn't read the memo, however. Phillip Quirie's decision to bring his experimental, post rock-influenced solo project before a pop crowd was certainly a bold move; a fact he openly acknowledges, telling the audience with a slight smile that "I know I’m not what you expected to see supporting Pearl." Debutant's looped guitar tracks and sparse vocals always seem to be circling the point; building up to something they never quite reach. While the grandiose soundscapes he builds have much in the way of merit, in this context they ultimately fail to elicit the desired response.

Pearl and The Puppets is essentially a vehicle for singer-songwriter Katie Sutherland, and her diminutive form dominates the stage with an easy charm. She is an impassioned performer; hugging the mic-stand and tugging at her lapels, throwing out a hand to the audience. Material from the band’s debut album-to-be—which will be released "when it's finished", according to keyboardist Michael Abubakar—is well-received, with new song 'Girlfriend' saved from its own mundane songwriting by a killer vocal harmony. An unexpected cover of The Temper Trap’s 'Sweet Disposition' actually improves on the original, while crowd favourite 'Make Me Smile' rounds off proceedings with its nonsense refrain and sweet sentiment.

The band chatter and joke their way through the set with admirable cheer, and their performance is well-drilled and enjoyable, if somewhat unadventurous. They may not be breaking new musical ground, but the band's great virtue is that they do what they do well, and look like they genuinely enjoy doing it. That joie de vivre extends to the crowd, some of whom are sufficiently entertained to set aside their amour.