Sunday 25th November

Brighton Dome

For twenty-two years Mogwai have been making the rest of us metaphorically pass out: in rapturous awe, in brutalised dread and transcendental promise. Since 1995 Glasgow's post-rock pioneers have been a sonic perfect storm, the musical equivalent of both Francis Bacon's horror paintings and William Blake's visions of angels in the trees (or, if you like, the aural equivalent of Blake's Songs of Innocence and of Experience Showing the Two Contrary States of the Human Soul, except by exuberant Scottish jesters in sturdy rain- wear, here in the 21st Century).  The more precarious the world becomes, the more their music is escapist balm, more so than ever inside the cocooning deliverance of their ninth studio album, Every Country's Sun. “If we can distract anyone from the shambles and stupidity for even a couple of minutes,” decides Barry Burns, Mogwai's ever-wry multi- instrumentalist, “then that’s better than anything, excepting valium.”