Let’s give some points to Mumford & Sons for keeping their promise – they said they’d be back nice and soon and they came back nice and soon. Good work. Points also for (a good majority) of the sold out crowd. Given the English “heroes of the poll” decided to not give us any sideshow love in February, it’s good to see that no grudges have been held – well done. Bonus points for learning the words to all the songs this time, and for not all turning your back post- Little Lion Man (ala the Melbourne Laneway crowd).

A sold out crowd means a lot of people, so it was good to see that the majority of that lot had showed up early for Sydney’s answer to the night’s headliner – Boy & Bear. If you’re not already riding it, you better get on the wagon soon because these local lads are quite the noticeable bunch. Dave Hosking on lead vocals sports one nice set of pipes, which are, yes, comparable to Marcus Mumford, but in their own right a sound to behold when backed by the five-piece’s tight harmonies. The Fleet Foxes-like Rabbit Song was a set favourite, setting just the right mood before the night’s second support came to change things up a little.

Perhaps more suited to a dark and dingy venue, the sinister rock of Alberta Cross certainly changed the light-hearted mood Boy & Bear had left in the room. Even though they hail from New York there was a definite southern tinge to the sound they delivered via songs from their debut LP, Broken Side of Time. Now, you might not be able to trust a man whose eyes are always in shadow, but vocalist Petter Stakee is certainly a frontman to remember – by no means way out there, but with just the right heir of a man possessed and the perfect voice to warble twisted gospel blues behind the shake of a tambourine. The night’s problem, though: Alberta Cross weren’t the right fit, and their set ended up sitting awkwardly between two folksier sides.

No such awkwardness met Mumford & Sons, who appeared on the theatre stage before a mammoth bout of screaming and, apparently, one of their biggest crowds to date. Lights were at the ready but weren’t about to be used as the quartet – lined up in a row across the front of stage – entered into Sigh No More in darkness, only to be flashed relentlessly by cameras in the crowd. Up built the song and, at its peak, out came the floodlights – a full border of them – creating the kind of “big spectacle” live image that the band now deserves.

And with the spectacle came the appropriate reaction from the crowd, for with pretty much every song from the album a good chunk of the crowd sang every word. And from that album, all twelve songs made an appearance, ensuring the band could make the most out of their limited supply of tunes. Along with this, two new tracks appeared in the set, the first of which – the-soulful-build-to-rocky, Nothing Is Written – was warmly received even amongst the better known numbers.

Speaking of the better known, it was a surprise to no one when Little Lion Man was met with a not so little roar. Up went the cameras to no surprise either, but the song certainly managed to live up to its reputation and stood out for the very exhibition of it all – the entire room getting in on the action. Having given the crowd what they wanted (“You seem to like that song, don’t you?”), Mumford & Sons chose to grapple the high and use it to fuel a second new track, Lover of the Light. The tactic seemingly worked a treat, and the crowd lapped it up as though it were one from the record.

Amongst the songs, every member of the band took an opportunity to give their two cents. The best of these asides was when Mumford exclaimed that he’d seen Rolf Harris in the crowd – he’d wanted to stop playing and jump down for an embrace, but he soon realised it was in fact a woman. Another quality quip was his impromptu pop psychology (that Australians are permanently in a euphoric state comparable to that of beating jetlag), that the band shot him down for – Mumford looking nothing but foolish (but a funny fool, nonetheless).

With the exception of the fact people thought it was fine to talk over the top, the softer songs certainly proved the most poignant; each being introduced as a quiet one, “if you don’t mind.” These included Timshel and After the Storm, in which Mumford’s voice was most striking. It was just a shame that not everyone was on the same page when it came to listening.

And whilst voice was the defining feature of those tracks, the band’s energy and stage presence carried a lot of others well above their recorded forms. The rollicking climaxes during I Gave You All and set closer The Cave showed a team of musicians clearly enjoying their state of popularity and the fact they were playing at all. And judging from the bouncing unison on the floor, the crowd were pretty happy with it all as well. There’s something about a banjo break that’ll bring this out in people.

If fans were expecting a hardy return from Mumford & Sons, then this was a show to get it. Although they’ve only got a small number of recorded tracks to their name, they managed to wrangle together a strong set with a couple of newies, putting them in good stead for their next visit, which is promised to happen somewhere down the line.

Check out the photos from the gig