Kings of Convenience, Brighton Concorde 2, England (March 26)

You can't help losing your heart to these two gentle, wry Norwegian boys with their acoustic guitars held high and hearts worn even higher. There is such humanity here. There are so many trickling arpeggios and subtle melodies. There is such an understanding of the dynamics of appearing as a folky, quietened duo onstage and what should be done to hold the audience's attention.

Eirik Glambek Boe plays the silent type, the heartthrob and worthy foil to the more gregarious Erlend Oye in his adorable spectacles. Erlend plays the fool, but in such a disarming, charming way?funkily dancing his way through imagined nightclubs on the showstopping closing number "I'd Rather Dance with You"?he's irresistible. When these boys play their hometown of Bergen, where they're rightly venerated as rock gods, the audience are in stitches from the first deadpan aside. Humor doesn't necessarily translate across languages, but Kings of Convenience have an immaculate sense of comic timing. And it doesn't detract one iota from their Simon and Garfunkel-esque interweaving harmonies, either.

Don't think this is a laugh riot, though. These songs are winsome and sweet in their gentle flirtatiousness. Eirik usually starts by picking out a melody line on his guitar, soon to be followed by Erlend, perhaps rounding off the sound with a few carefully strummed chords. Likewise, the vocals: one is high, the other poignantly lower and reflective. Words and noise are kept to a minimum, though the songs are surprisingly intricate. Single and opening track from the marvelously titled 2001 album Quiet Is the New Loud, "Winning a Battle, Losing the War" is only played after a lengthy explanation about how difficult it is to duplicate the recorded sound. The boys are too modest by half. The song sounds excellent live.

This lack of artifice is particularly welcome in a pop music world centered round bombast, where the ability to shout louder and boast more outrageously than the next simpleton is viewed as talent.

Sometimes, the Kings are too understated for their own good. A cover of Tom Petty's "Free Fallin'" is lost on a hip English audience, unversed in the playlists of mid-American (and presumably) Norwegian radio stations. The fact it's the weakest song played tonight in their seven-song set is significant too. Elsewhere, the boys dream about travel ("Cayman Islands"), loneliness ("Riot on an Empty Street") and becoming the new Everly Brothers ("Toxic Girl"). And why not? This is a rare treat, and never less than intoxicating.