After taking part in Kania Tiefer's mass hypnotisation of every straight guy and lesbian in the place - the result of a combination of an impeccably cute belgian accent, silly euro-nonsense performance, sports socks and short shorts - I picked my jaw up off the bar, tucked my approval into the waistband of my jeans and suffered the offensively bland Three Trapped Tigers who sounded like the kind of stupid future version of the world which people imagine is Utopia but is actually mindnumbingly unentertaining to the point of making you feel suicidal. In a bad way.
Then Agaskodo Teliverek step to the stage and Jesus Christ Hiroe looks fucking insane she's wearing a Patrick Bateman raincoat over a bikini and she's one month short of giving birth. Her screaming has got better since last I saw this bunch of peculiar hungarian surf grunge dance pioneers (although not a patch on the screaming she'll be doing in January, no doubt). The whole act is regimented and tight and performed with military precision, admirable considering the psychotic, schizophrenic style of songwriting on display and it's obvious these guys are serious about their fun music, which is good news for us.
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