In his seminal book Either/Or Søren Kierkegaard makes mention of the perfect appropriateness of music to express human emotion and certain complicated concepts: by  using words and lyrics you allow a character opinions, ulterior motives and reflection, whereas with music – and only through music – can the listener experience the essence of what is being conveyed immediately and without adulteration…

Whether or not this philosophy played any part in the founding of The Wordless Music series, set up in 2007, the underlying theme in the first instalment of this year’s Autumn season is that the music itself is the medium by which the message should be put across.

This is quite apparent in tonight’s opening act – Charles Spearin’s ‘Happiness Project’. Spearin recorded the responses of neighbours and friends when posed with the question: “What is happiness?” Spearin then took the replies and composed musical pieces based on the natural rhythm and melodies of the human voice when talking about an emotive subject. Perhaps the most endearing result is the piece entitled “All of a Sudden Something Inside Me Begins to Move” which depicts the story of Spearin’s profoundly deaf friend who, after a receiving a cochlear implant, suddenly discovers a world awash with sound and music. When walking through the park with Spearin one day, she hears music; they look around for the source – a busker or a ghetto blaster maybe – only to discover that the whole time it is in fact the undulating rhythm of the traffic from the surrounding streets. Spearin’s ensemble of drums, guitars, brass and strings captures this swirling musical landscape as well as a sense of wonderment beautifully.

But it’s the self-confessed Canadian “space-rockers” Do Make Say Think, whom Spearin co-founded back in 1996, that are tonight’s main attraction. Do, make, say and think: four words that denote very basic human functions and drives. But there’s nothing basic about this band.

The set opens with a track from the upcoming album Other Truths, entitled simply ‘Do’. What immediately follows could almost be described as a conventional rock song: bass and drums plough a methodical path while a tuned down guitar chugs purposefully over it. The song oozes menace and intent and couldn’t have a more apt title. But as the song progresses, the music begins to writhe and diverge, occasionally snapping back to the trusted path, but ultimately sprinting into the wilderness either side in a crashing crescendo of cymbals, feedback and a jerky, flustered guitar.

This is Do Make Say Think – and other proponents of the so-called ‘post-rock’ genre – writ large: we see it again later in the set in ‘Fredericia’, the opening track on the album Winter Hymn, Country Hymn, Secret Hymn. The song is complex and enigmatic, flitting from quiet to loud, slow to fast, with no discernable rhyme or reason. At first we see (only) 6 members on stage, before the 3 members of the brass section meander into the action to bring the song to a rousing finish.

But it’s the penultimate song that displays perfectly what DMST are capable of. At the beginning of the set co-founding member and lead guitarist Justin Small expressed surprise when looking out at the Miller Theatre’s plush, cushioned seats and unassuming décor:

“Look at this – not quite the legendary shitholes we’re used to”

But this hushed auditorium provides the perfect backdrop. The song starts unassumingly – a violin is gently plucked, accompanied by a morose guitar. But this song is called The Universe!, from most recent album You, You’re a History in Rust, and it’s not long before it takes on stellar dimensions: Small crunches his guitar, Spearin follows wresting a few notes from his, and so this continues, as if the immense wrench and torque of a solar system forming is occurring before our very ears.

It’s a testament to the quality of the musicianship in DMST that such an intricacy of sound can be generated. And that’s just what this was all about – the power of sound in expressing an idea. The Universe! provided an excellent coda, so the short encore – a fragile and plaintive number – seemed a bit unnecessary – somebody should have had a word.