Gurning and hip thrusting, Andy D takes to the stage, bungs his iPod on and strips down to a denim vest.
In the spotlight he’s a force of nature with a raunchy sense of humour and some impressive twerking skills.
Pumping electroclash blares from the speakers as he banters filthily with the audience.
Electric Six’s Dick Valentine joins him for a number, while his PVC and sparkles-clad backing singer shakes her hips and hollers along to tracks like ‘Nasty’ and the bitchin’ ‘Angels on the Dancefloor’.
“This song is about dancing, just like all the others,” he declares before diving into the crowd to dry hump an audience member.
Outside this very specific situation it would probably be almost unlistenable but it’s hard not to crack a smile at such an outré character.
Sadly however tonight’s headliners don’t quite live up to their potential.
2003’s Fire’s camp fusion of new wave and disco rock spawned a pair of monster hits alongside a series of the sextet’s best loved album tracks but although half a dozen are revisited here there is still a scarcity of great material on show and their newer tracks too frequently resemble the reheated remains of late eighties glam-rock.
A boisterous version of ‘Gay Bar’ reminds you that Electric Six can be fun when their tongues are lodged firmly in their cheeks but the inclusion of the inferior ‘Gay Bar Part 2’ robs it of some of its glory.
‘Adam Levine’ mercilessly skewers the pomposity of the Maroon 5 main man but there’s a sense that it’s jealousy rather than genuine wit that lends barbs to Valentine’s jibes.
‘Simulated Love’ is a parody of Depeche Mode-style sex and sin while new tracks bring to mind Def Leppard and glam-grunge also-rans Ugly Kid Joe.
Amusingly, as the band depart, the far from sell-out crowd chant “we want Dick” but when the group return to the stage its not to deliver a barrage of slick hits but three mostly forgettable album tracks selected by an audience member.
Rarely cracking a smile, the blunt truth is this: for a party band, Electric Six are just not that fun anymore.
Words: Max Sefton
Photos: Celia Varelo Sixto
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