This was Hot Chip’s homecoming show, a late-night set in the largest venue that they’ve played in London. Last month, the studio boffins’ new album, Made in the Dark, reached number four in the UK charts and its first single went top 10. A giddy mood of triumph held sway at Brixton Academy. The geeks had inherited the earth, at least until the 3am curfew.

The set began with a jokey coup de théâtre as a brass band in evening dress filed on stage and launched into a stentorian medley of Hot Chip songs. It was an inspired opening, serving to underline not only the infectious harmonies at the heart of their fidgety electropop but also its humour.

Like Kraftwerk and Orbital before them, Hot Chip bring an essentially comic outlook to pop music. It’s not an easy trick to pull off – the mirthful spectre of the novelty song hovers nearby – and there are times in the past when they’ve overdone the colourfulness. Yet when they get the balance right, as on Made in the Dark, the results are exhilarating.

Their live show had none of the spectacle of Kraftwerk or Orbital. On stage, they dressed in the manner of mature students, an indistinguishable mass of T-shirts and jackets, with the exception of singer-keyboardist Alexis Taylor, who looked like an extra from Miami Vice in a white suit, as if flagging up the influence of 1980s blue-eyed soul on his singing style.

They beefed up their songs for the live setting. A crescendo of percussion announced the opening number “Shake a Fist”, which segued into a fierce but cheery four-to-the-floor techno rush. The mellow synths and tender vocals of “And I Was a Boy from School” were buoyed by pounding beats. Two of Made in the Dark’s charming ballads were played in succession in the moments before the encore, as if included as an afterthought.

Energy and musicianship made up for the lack of visual spectacle. The songs were lithe and twisty, prone to erupt suddenly into huge keyboard breaks as during “Ready for the Floor”. A light-hearted foray into R. Kelly-style R&B, “Wrestlers”, moved towards “guilty pleasure” territory, yet its smile was genuine. “Is this freedom?” the chorus to “Don’t Dance” asked, as a mighty surge of synthesisers answered in the affirmative. There are few bands as liberating.