Gig review: Mother Mother at O2 Academy Leeds

“This song is about living the life you want,” Mother Mother frontman Ryan Guldemond cries before the nouveau grunge swirl of The Matrix. “You deserve it, Leeds!” Such platitudes can often feel condescendingly trite when echoed by artists every night – but for the Canadian outfit, they ring through with the sweat of hard yards finally granted a surprise reward.

It is hard to quantify what makes a retroactive viral smash these days. Certainly, the Quadra Island five-piece are not the only beneficiaries of TikTok success, But few seem to have risen from such inconspicuous non-visibility like them; while modestly successful in their homeland, their footprint has been marginal in the United Kingdom at best.

Now, after more than a decade of international indie anonymity, they celebrate an unexpected breakthrough on their biggest tour to date. At the city’s O2 Academy, they seem delighted and discombobulated by their newfound success, thrilling a crowd predominantly filled with shrieking Gen-Z-era teenagers and chin-stroker vinyl types brought together in heartening unison by a repertoire furnished with tales of agrestic violence and paranoid spectres.

Ostensibly here behind this year’s Grief Chapter, it really is a victory lap for a group who never looked like they would escape their modest commercial confines.

With a rich songcraft honed by the Canadian indie scene, Guldemond and company – sister Molly, keyboardist Jasmin Parkin, drummer Ali Siadat and bassist Mike Young – seem determined to celebrate their newfound converts across a broadly terrific 90-minute show.

Years on the road have honed their craft to a remarkably polished tee, enlivening a discography brimming with folk-pop and alt-rock textures into a giddy, hook-friendly performance of unlikely singalongs.

Less the genre-hopping trip down the rabbit hole than on record, Mother Mother prove excellent purveyors of meatily offbeat anthems live, translating the sun-stripped glam stomp of Arms Tonite and the macabre carnival swagger of Hayloft II into widescreen joy, with serious crunch behind Problems’ rubbery faux-funk and Verbatim’s woozy percolations

Throughout, Guldemond indulges familiar arena-rock postures, but his palpable glee outshines any reservations; even a mid-show acoustic medley, capped by a sweetly disarming It’s Alright, feels pleasantly organic.

“Keep listening to bands, and everything will be all right!” he exclaims, before the closing stretch ticks off that ubiquitous viral breakthrough Hayloft and a rousing finale of Burning Pile. If these fans heed his words, they’ll stay in the sun for years.