Decemberists frontman Colin Meloy is the man with the most malleable face in rock. He screws it up, stretches it out and gurns like it's made out of rubber.

Along with fellow slack-jawed yodeller James Mercer of The Shins, Meloy is spearheading the new wave of quirky acoustica currently squinting through its fringe and spectacles at us from the other side of the Atlantic.

With a sound more suited to lusher venues than the Freebutt, The Decemberists nevertheless charmed an audience mainly comprised of half-asleep freshers.

Their gentle antiquarian tales of bowery slums and gipsy wanderers sat perfectly alongside rollicking sea shanties. A stripped down quintet of guitars, accordian, organ, bass and drums provided a flowing backing for Meloy's gymnastic vocals.

Playing a short set mainly taken from their recent Her Majesty The Decemberists album, they succeeded in combining complex and wordy themes with a hearty sense of fun. Finishing with a raucous fresher-waking trashing of instruments, Mercer sang: "I was meant for the stage."

On the basis of this performance, he certainly is.