Hudson Taylor at the Academy 2 on the 21st December, 2012.

While it may take some bands half-a-decade or so to truly ‘make it’ past the pub circuit, Hudson Taylor are one of those whose stats just keep going up on the line-chart. Having formed around this time last year, the band take to the stage in the Academy 2 for a homecoming of sorts. Playing the lads cover of Eminem’s Lose Yourself over the speakers to tease a buzzing but scattered audience, the sad wooden floor looks as embarrassingly empty as the dance floor at a cringy 21st.

But the first appearance of the lads and the energetic strums of Hideaway causes a flood to the stage like ants assembling to greet the queen. Lapping up the welcome, their enthusiasm buoys the initial energy of the crowd.

For such a recent formation, Harry and Alfie are shockingly in tune with each other in both harmonies, strumming and instantly evident stage-presence. But sure, haven’t they known each other quite a while… being brothers and all—though you wouldn’t assume it to look at them. Having signed to a mysterious UK label and whisked off across the Irish Sea—the Academy’s basement seems too small for them, yet just perfect at the same time. Harry mentions their recent move to London, which is greeted by boos, quickly smoothed over with a smile and the declaration that it’s good to be back in Ireland—the homeland, the streets they began busking on.

But while you may have rushed by them before, all eyes are on the lads as Butterflies sets off a set mixing material from their two EPs, as well as a hint of what’s to come in their debut album. The audience are integrated into Drop of Smoke, echoing back that mindless but soothing drawl of “gone gone going gone.” In reality, they’re going nowhere.

Our first glimpse of new material is A Drop In the Ocean. The track maintains their endearing brand of folk—upbeat, fast yet suitably morose—like Mumford & Sons, but lacking the monotonous sheen. Hudson Taylor put the “Sons” in Mumford & Sons, showing their snoring Dads how it’s done.

Taking things down a notch, the lads ask the audience to remain completely silent, as they ditch the backing band (bar musician Tadhg Walsh-Peelo) and climb over the edge of the stage so their heads are fretfully close to the low-slung roof and its attached lighting. A nervous mother wouldn’t have been pleased, until the subsequent acoustic rendition of Left Alone is powerfully delivered by Alfie, with the audience giving a helping hand during the chorus. In typical Irish fashion, a guy in the audience doesn’t miss a beat, poignantly declaring “Merry Christmas,” during the stunned silence that indicated the end of the song. The laugh that ensued realised the ambience that we were picking up. We were at someone’s house party. A group of other people’s friends you didn’t know, but were glad to see you anyway.

The risky climb continued with Weapons, beautifully harmonised with a particularly memorable violin solo from Walsh-Peelo.

The backing band were invited back to the party as the excited recognition of the opening chords of Chasing Rubies shuffled across the crowd. The song, written by Alfie for his girlfriend, singer Gabrielle Aplin was a clear favourite for them to perform. With Aplin in the crowd, the sugary lovesick rock-acoustic is sung by Alfie with such heartfelt meaning, we’re transformed back to that night at the Ruby Sessions when they first met.

Finishing up the set is the lesser aired-out Keep Your Feet On the Ground, while the title-track of their debut EP, Battles, proves cathartic with its underlying giddy trad skip. Their recent single, Cinematic Lifestyle translates to a snarling chase down a western road. Always going to be the big hit of the night, it didn’t disappoint. With the audience jeering the chorus back to them, it’s clear why these guys are tipped for big things in 2013.

Initially a lax encore, Trouble Town builds up to a bigger punch, with a false stop and subsequent burst of sound ensuring full attention was thrown on that crafty mash-up of Loose Yourself/Walking On the Moon. So we leave the party like the Guards crashed it just after we’d finished our last can—smug, satisfied. Well, at least until we get that album.