Laurel Halo opens her set at International Tape’s party at 285 Kent by raising from the ground a giant boulder of sound, sheer in stature and warped by the wind. She layers and loops her vocals around this sonic expanse, shrouding it in rippling, repeating melodies. Then, just as quickly as she commanded it, the stoney wall subsides and she introduces a lightness: chiming chords that fall like dominos. Halo takes the audience on a journey through the mutating terrain of ‘Hour Logic’, ‘King Felix’ and more besides. At points the feeling in the room pitches up to euphoric and a group of girls rush forward to dance, jumping up, grinning wildly. The boom-drop of Aquifer couldn’t sound bigger if it tried. A few moments later the mood turns inwards, the crowd caught motionless in that zoned out space Halo is so adept at creating. She builds us up and down what feels like many times over, and everyone laps it up. Someone shouts ‘Halo!’ and cheers rain down. It’s a complete trip of a show, and further proof of her singular talent.