When The Books took to the stage at the Spiegeltent for their first Sydney Festival gig, I confess I was surprised. As the masterminds behind some fairly experimental music, surely some posturing was to be expected.

Perhaps it was the 5.30pm start time for the show, or because they had never played in Australia before, but there was no indie-cool pretence to be seen. The duo looked more like your last university classics tutor than the uber-cool, alt-electronic folksters I’d created in my head. Fortunately, the reality was much more likeable.

Trying to describe the music The Books make is particularly difficult. It’s tempting to say they are a genre unto themselves. The duo weaves a multifaceted and experimental kind of music that’s not easily classified. The music is rich in samples and electronic sounds, juxtaposed with folksy acoustic repetitions, lilting basslines and wistful strings.

In a live setting, all of their material is accompanied by a visual track projected behind the band, cut to coincide with the music perfectly. They’re not the first band to play with such a mixture, but they do it with such flair, you’d be forgiven for thinking they were.

The Books introduced the first item on their set list by explaining that while touring they’ve taken a liking to trawling thrift stores for old VHS tapes, where they’ve picked up some gems of audio-visual gold from the early 1990s. Guitarist and vocalist Nick Zammuto explained that in particular they’ve enjoyed viewing and experimenting with the hilarity born from self-hypnosis videos.

They then launched into a track from their upcoming album, which was essentially some carefully selected scenes of psych-babble, snipped from new-age therapy videos – think heads floating in the middle of nowhere, and self-help addicts getting in touch with their inner children. Very – œ90s, very American, and very funny to watch from the safety of 2010. The pair weaves their carefully choreographed guitar and cello sequences between the lyrics, provided by the video samples. The result is comic genius.

Some serious work went into putting together the visual component of The Books’ live show, and the results really add something really special to the experience. In what I imagine is a copyright nightmare, they juxtapose images of the absurd with the mundane and everyday. Some of the material is from home videos, and also from what looks like old films, documentaries, instructional videos and news-reels.

Towards the end of the gig, however, some of the music’s intensity got lost in the live environment. A selection of their more serious tracks are best for quiet consumption, lying flat out on your bed, with eyes closed and a big “get lost” pair of headphones. Nonetheless, the sense of gratitude after the show was palpable, from both the audience and the band.

For an outfit that have been doing their thing since way back in 1999, The Books came across as extremely humble, projecting such a positive energy you’d think they only started last week. The pair was visibly pleased to have the music they clearly love making appreciated – which was just so damn refreshing.

After the obligatory encore, they each exited the stage with a bow more akin to something you might see at a recital of classical music. Which was, somehow, strangely fitting.