Live Review: Vaudeville Smash, Bullhorn, Sansonus, Sex On Toast DJs

What's better suited to ice cold weather than drunken dream pop and even colder beer to further numb your already frozen face? Sansonus is the cure, providing wonderfully anxious guitar riffs that wind up the nerves. Their music is the sonic equivalent of the half-restless half-amusing thoughts that come from reflecting on a big night and too much vodka. Paired with skittish vocals and synth interludes, these dudes make for a frenetic tasty treat with their weirdly nostalgic, intoxicated electro jumble.

'80s and '90s slow jams and funk faves keep it simmering in between sets thanks to Sex On Toast DJs, making it much easier for punters to thaw out. However, the heaters, currently on full blast, are switched to air-con no more than ten minutes into Bullhorn's set. They're not your average brass band - made up of seven horn players, one drummer and an MC who should probably double as a motivational speaker. Seriously, if seven horns aren't enough to boost your spirits, then Roman Albert is the frontman for the job. They boast a positively infectious energy, and have the whole room getting down. With a huge sound and ridiculously uplifting freestyles, listening to these guys feels like having your best mate yell positive affirmations straight into your face while your most loved funk/hip hop tracks play in the background. They're a legal mood enhancer if there ever was one.

The drums and a heavy bass line kick off as members of Vaudeville Smash hit the stage one by one before launching into the first track in a flurry of sequins and animated choreography. The flute wouldn't usually be the first instrument that'd come to mind when thinking of funk music, but frontman Marc Lucchesi proves otherwise with a wild solo to get it all started. These guys are at their best when they settle in for a solo - especially in Potion, which features an insane sax performance. Keys prodigy James Bowers' delicious little fills are what dreams are made of and the drummer's falsetto is ferocious enough to shatter the ceiling in one breath.

"Oi isn't this that other fuckin' band's song?!" one punter yells to his mate as they start playing the instantly familiar opening to Oh Loretta. The frontman of 'that other fuckin' band', Sex On Toast, is yanked out for a 30-second sing. It's assumedly unplanned and just a tad awkward, but punters are living for it nonetheless and belt out the track for the entire 30 seconds. The crowd goes nuts for Devil Said, with the majority totally clued in on the accompanying dance moves and needing very little coaxing to break them out.  "We're gonna get all sexual on your asses" Lucchesi yells before sliding into Driving Me Wild as the smoky pink lights are dimmed and the room is drenched in some steamy guitar shredding for that slow jam pleasure.

The crowd tonight is on the rowdier side and the cold weather is probably getting to people's heads, because for some reason a fair few sloshed punters assume it's okay to dump wet, empty cans of beer and frosty cups of ice onto the merch table (and themselves), only to be utterly enraged when told otherwise. Crowd participation curbs this feistiness as next everyone's instructed to 'get down' - like, literally squat on the floor so we jump up at the song's climax. There's not one person who's not on the ground at this point. Smash hit Zinedine Zidane and old favourite Dirty Old Man (Come Inside) closes out the night in an intense, sweaty, beer-soaked tangle of punters flinging themselves and each other around in crazy funk-fuelled happiness.