EARLY in February Ezra Furman set the bar high when he appeared at the Brudenell Social Club in Leeds.

Playing tracks from Transangelic Exodus, a concept album in which he goes on the run with his celestial lover from an oppressive government, the Chicagoan put community and engagement at the heart of his set.

Statements about being a non-binary cross-dresser made it clear that the gig was a safe space, creating a sense of solidarity. But it was the material itself that made it such a joyous evening, updating 1950s rock’n’roll with off-kilter punk and avant-pop, all delivered in an impassioned whine that was the heir apparent to the Violent Femmes’ Gordon Gano.

His unrestrained performance was in stark contrast to that of Mitski, also at the Brudenell Social Club. The Japanese-American musician was the embodiment of control during a tightly choreographed set that saw her progress from minimal arm movements to virtually flinging herself on the floor.

It was a visual presentation that added emotional depth to her 1990s influenced indie-pop, which took Weezer as a starting point and then played with female personas. The multiple roles she adopted — she was variously “the idiot with the painted face” and the coward who “just wants to feel alright” — seemed to mockingly subvert the concept of the confessional singer-songwriter.

David Byrne, appearing at the First Direct Arena in Leeds, also used choreography during his American Utopia tour. Yet while Mitski’s backing musicians remained firmly in the background, the former Talking Heads frontman had his 11-piece band in on the action.

With their instruments strapped to their bodies, they were able to move around a stage that was free of the usual equipment clutter. Tightly rehearsed, there was nonetheless a sense that the band were having fun, especially during the snaking caterpillar they formed during a euphoric Road To Nowhere.

The focus on percussion, played by six band members, helped tease out the fun with a combination of samba and African rhythms. The encore of Janelle Monae’s #BlackLivesMatter anthem Hell You Talmbout was all the more hard-hitting as a result and, as with Ezra Furman’s show, proved that entertainment can create a safe space for change.