More shows should be this way. Perhaps the famous Speigeltent could be kidnapped and held hostage in Sydney, because this is really magical. Stained glass windows, some half-open with leaves blowing in a balmy Sydney breeze; a backdrop of stars (lights on cloth) that breathe along with the bassoon; a hushed crowd. Perfect, I think, and a little bit special, too.

It's not just the setting: Clogs are virtuosos. Often, at this level of musicianship, self-indulgence and snobbery can supersede any levels of enjoyment. But Clogs are humble; they have a sense of humour, even if it is set steadily in musical-geekdom. Not being schooled in the classical tradition, and also having a ridiculous penchant for labelling what music sounds like, in hindsight I must have been thinking a lot during Clogs’ set.

First thought: maybe this is post-rock? But it’s not boring (how can they play these instruments so well?). Not trite, either. This I can be sure of because of the way shivers keep running down my spine, only to be shivered out of the way by other shivers. Excuse the cliché, but it’s true.

Then: classical music, but genuinely inventive. Their guitarist is also in The National, and even though Clogs are completely different I can hear hints of said act coming through in the way he plays. Clogs’ sound in its entirety is expansive and intricate; overall it’s very gentle, but home to the occasional freak-out and plenty of flourishes of beauty superseding beauty.

Last thoughts: seemed to drift away, deemed unnecessary, music-journalist preconceptions floating out past stained glass. Actually, I think this happened at the very beginning of their set.

Oh, I’m so reductive. One thing is for sure: this is transcendent. It’s such a delicate sound. Very interesting, too: idiosyncratic with its mix of steel drums, bassoon, guitar (acoustic and electric), violin, drums, and melodica also. It makes me want to gush to everyone and spout truisms and simultaneously never write another word again, or listen to anything else from the indie canon of which Clogs are strangely a part of. Theirs is a sound for saturated ears, for sure.