Two minutes in and the basement spins, the crowd slewing from back to front, people running like a river from the sides to the centre.
We are happily trapped within the seething mass of movement, drawn in by the measured chaos unfolding on stage.
There are gloriously screamed waves of sound. There is an eternity of melodic introspection. There is conspicuous sonic violence. There are moments of exuberant wonder.
By the end the room is soaked in sweat and happily broken with exhaustion. There is just enough energy left to join the queue and shake them by the hand.
Squid can be got down to here.
They’re also an integral part of last month’s Quiff mix, which just loves to be listened to.