It’s a quiet Friday night on Holloway Road when we arrive at Nambucca. To be fair, we are an hour early, having jumped on a 43 as soon as escape from work was possible. Pushing open the door, we are politely told by strutting, pool-cue wielding members of We Smoke Fags (true to their name) to go away. So Vorn and I head to the pub opposite for a sit-down and a chat. An hour later we are relaxed and in the mood for a fun night.

On our way back to Nambucca, we bump into Kev Bassett of tonight’s headliners, Lost Penguin. This quiet, friendly zinester will later transform into a passionate, roaring co-vocalist and keyboard/programming firearm. For now, he kindly adds us to the cheapo list and self-depreciatingly suggests that the quite possibly underage and ID-less crowd outside are still under the impression that Rat Att Agg are playing (ex-Test Icicle Rory Atwell’s current band pulled out late in the day). Inside, errant Glaswegian L.P. singer Kerry is a vision of distinctive eye make-up that would make my eyelids swell up in reaction.

Following our earlier encounter, it’s a pleasant surprise to discover that We Smoke Fags have more in common with Bolt Action Five and Hadouken than Towers of London. Three boys and a drum machine seems to be an increasingly popular set-up, but in this case it works. Eastenders features a rumbly, buzzing electro bassline and skanky synths, while an instrumental has keyboard bits that sound like blowing on the tops of glasses filled with varying amounts of liquid to get different tones (though not like panpipes, phew).

Boys of Brazil are liars – as well as three boys, they feature a lady, namely Emily Rotter, who is also in The Rotters and a cohort of The Horrors. I get the feeling a lot of the crowd have come to North London especially for B.O.B. (remember BOB in Twin Peaks - the mysterious, deadly, unseen character of doom to whom reference was made by Laura Palmer in her secret diary…?) This band captures that sense of darkness with swirling Hammond organ-like keyboards and razoredge guitars, not to mention their sumptuous haircuts, dapper clothes and eyeliner. ‘Jeanette’s Got E Coli’ (deadly dizeeze, oh yeah!) features a half-posh, half-cockney spoken-word bit reminiscent of Jon Slade from Huggy Bear/Comet Gain. The vocals are less abrasive than those of The Horrors, though their overall style is similar. That’s not to say they aren’t any good. ‘Something Was Wrong’ is the highlight, Emily’s organ in full effect as the intensity propels a music industry man out of his seat and onto the chair’s arms, frantically waving a balloon in rapture. 

I’ve been looking forward to seeing Look Look (Dancing Boys) for ages, so when they spark up, Vorn and I happily relinquish our sofa and move to the front. These ladies have so much lo-fuzz punkasss energy, bursting power over shouty vocals, guitar and machinage. They storm Nambucca, even if not too many folks actually noticed, having departed to follow their chosen lords elsewhere. ‘Arse Road’, ‘Tit Wank’ and ‘Psychotherapist’ are brilliant, as is their, erm, “unique”, fast n’ scuzzy cover of Julian Cope’s ‘World Shut Your Mouth’. Classy.

Kev, Kerry and bassist Matt of Lost Penguin are a tense yet close-knit group, something that feeds into their music and tonight’s gig. Only the hardcore remain at this point, but what fools the departed are! The last time I saw Lost Penguin, it was after 1am when they took to the stage at the Camden Barfly, and they were not in a good state. This time is very different. Kev bursts beyond the hood, bent over screaming out vocals and attacking his weathered keyboard, alongside Kerry’s sharp tones. Matt remains in the corner, eyes to the floor, focussed. Both Kerry and Kev take turns to leap into the (small) crowd, totally engrossed. They are one of the most exciting bands I’ve seen in recent times. The passion thrown at their beautifully beaten, sharp, danceable, bass-boomin’ needles electro madness reminds me in places of some of my favourite bands ever, Huggy Bear and Bis. ‘Encyclopedia of Monsters’’ harsh pounding beats and menacing second-layer drums, reminiscent of Le Tigre’s ‘The The Empty’, pummel my head and draw me into the depths of their magical doom. 

Widely panned recent single ‘Pleasurewood Kills’ certainly is as thrilling and terrifying as a rollercoaster, “up and up and up and up/down! down! down! down!”, while expletive-filled ‘I Believe I Can Fly’  has an addictive bassline (it makes me think of Puretone’s ‘Addicted to Bass’!). As they’re about to play first single ‘Mr Whippy’, Kerry yells “I fucking hate this song!!” then half-heartedly gives it a go anyway.  How anyone could not feel the excitement of Lost Penguin is beyond me. Let yourself go. They are incendiary.

(4/5)