Positive or negative, reviews of the High Llamas are remarkably congruent: almost every critic thinks that their pretty music lacks emotion and owes too much to the Beach Boys. Like Chicago post-rockers Tortoise (whose drummer, John McEntire, mixed Snowbug, the Llamas' last album) they are accused of creating music that is intellectually stimulating but cold, even soulless. The melodies may be ravishing, the songs may have a glimmering beauty, but that only exacerbates the problem, somehow draining the music of tenderness and highlighting its off-putting cleverness.

With two decades in the business under his belt, such criticisms surely faze Sean O'Hagan less than the surreal heckles (including "Hip hop don't stop" and "Gonads") from his devoted fans. As the live show makes clear, he's tinkering away on his own enchanted musical island and there's plenty of heartwarming bliss in store for anyone who chooses to follow him there.

Perhaps this show was delightful because the songs were simpler. With the orchestral layers that make Snowbug luscious but diffuse and over-detailed pared away, the three guitars and gorgeous vibes had space to stretch their limbs and charm. Lacking the honeyed voice of a Beach Boy, O'Hagan's version of Cookie Bay (sung on the album by the ladies from Stereolab) came across like a Lee Hazlewood concoction, its chord progressions echoing Some Velvet Morning.

Older songs sounded even better: Glide Time had the lightness of a pebble skimming across a lake, while Three Point Scrabble was comforting as a lullaby. Track Goes By was glorious, endlessly repeating its effulgent riff until the song became as relaxing as floating on a Lilo, belly warmed by rum punches.

The chorus to Triads, "dust and rain", was the closest O'Hagan came to breaking the unremitting sunshine of the show, but why complain about lack of variety when you've been transported to Hawaii on a dreary winter night?