Live Review: Camp Cope, Harmony, Two Steps On The Water

June Jones may be feeling under the weather - gulping water from a jug and bemoaning, "Last night I spat in a bag" — but she is still utterly arresting. Two Steps On The Water's theatrical prog-folk brings us to rapt silence. This is the third time this year we've seen a support slot from the captivating trio and again we make a mental note to catch a headline show they're performing sometime soon.

Harmony, the latest project from The Nation Blue's Tom Lyngcoln, doesn't always seem to be more than the sum of its parts; the band's collision of alt-rock with gospel and blues can sound, well, like a collision. But when it does all click, it's inspired: Lyngcoln's snarl and bravura guitar work balanced by the trio of female backing singers and excellent rhythm section.

This sold-out show caps off a big year of touring for Camp Cope, following the release of their self-titled debut LP. Yet when Georgia Maq thanks us all for coming, she laughs and covers her mouth with both hands - she still seems genuinely surprised that people want to give up their time and money to come and hear her band's songs. She needn't be — she's a born performer and a hell of a songwriter and from the opening salvo of Done and Jet Fuel Can't Melt Steel Beams, we're sold.

Maq's frank, finely observed lyrics and soul-shredding vocals are Camp Cope's linchpin, but bassist Kelly-Dawn Hellmrich steps up with a big fuzzy intro to a new song — a feminist anthem to unruly pubic hair — underlining how much she and drummer Sarah Thompson contribute to shaping the band's distinctive sound. As the song ends, there's a moment of confusion, as Maq checks her phone for a message "from a friend"; turns out it's a reminder to plug June Jones's crowdfunding campaign for facial feminisation surgery. She does so, then apologises if she seems scatty: "I've been looking at too many memes lately and my mind has gone to mush." Back on track, she dedicates Flesh And Electricity to underpaid nurses; it rocks.

Maq rips the heart and soul out of the epic West Side Story, its story of western suburban angst as definitively Camp Cope as it gets; the crowd singing along to the line, "But yours is a funeral I'd fly to from anywhere," is spine-tingling stuff. Maq then lightens the mood and gets a few eye-rolling laughs from her bandmates as she busts out the opening chords to Wonderwall by Oasis, then gets serious, introducing Trepidation, a song railing against feeling unsafe in public spaces, "Something people who are not white men experience." Camp Cope close with Stove Lighter and the anthem Lost: Season One, and leave us wanting more.