Grandaddy, Oslo Hackney, review: The Californian indie-rockers return with their first new material for 10 years

Grandaddy were once compared with Radiohead (particularly OK Computer) at their early Noughties peak

“We do believe it ends right here,” laments Grandaddy frontman Jason Lytle, in his plaintive falsetto, on “Laughing Stock”. And it did end for the absurdly underrated indie quintet in 2006 after four memorable albums (Under the Western Freeway, The Sophtware Slump, Sumday and Just Like the Fambly Cat).

However, the gloomy underdogs have returned, balder and as sardonic as ever (“Now to kill the moment... here's another new song”, Lytle, in his trucker's cap, informs us at one point) with a compelling 7“, the Big Country-tinged single "Way We Won't" (unveiled tonight), their first new material for 10 years.

The Californian skater-rockers were once compared - somewhat giddily - with Radiohead (particularly OK Computer) at their early Noughties peak, around the release of their 2000 masterpiece/concept album The Sophtware Slump, which bemoans technology (drunken, suicidal androids; crashed planes; forests riddled with discarded appliances) and is laced with Y2K desolation. One of the album's perkier tunes, “Hewlett's Daughter”, is given a thunderous outing tonight along with their psychedelic, ELO-sounding epic “The Crystal Lake” (“Should never have left the crystal lake/ For areas where trees are fake/ And dogs are dead with broken hearts”). It could easily soundtrack Amazon's current paranoia thriller/drama Mr Robot.

Their wry, low-key tear-jerkers, which recall contemporaries Flaming Lips, Sparklehorse and Mercury Rev, are lifted by a throbbing synthesizer, particularly on 1997's sorrowful, slacker-infused (“Wasting our time/ Not doing anything here/ Just doing nothing”) “AM 180”, a highlight at this intimate and boiling-hot venue (“It feels like 143 degrees in here,” claims guitarist Jim Fairchild). As is the wildly inventive “Now It's On” from 2003's tortured Sumday, which is full of fuzzy, chugging guitars and idiosyncratic electronic flourishes.

In their pomp Grandaddy were never noted for their onstage wordplay or leaping around and there's no change tonight with their creative lynchpin, a crotchety Lytle, frequently fussing about the sound quality. His fans, however, are enthused and supportive throughout, throwing out words of love. In response, Lytle informs them: “It's hard for me to get into it you know... but we're not going to give up”. Glad to hear it.

The Sophtware Slump's prog-rocker and album opener “He's Simple, He's Dumb, He's the Pilot” appears to bring them, appropriately, out of their slight slump and they encore with “Fare Thee Not Well Mutineer” and “Summer Here Kids”. Their devotees appear pleased - and there's a huge whiff of nostalgia tonight - but what does the future hold for these taciturn fortysomethings?