Friday night and all the fantastic electro-freaks have come out to play. After previously scoring the coup of a lifetime in securing the disc jockey services of Richard D. James, Kidney delivered a fantastically crazed bill to satiate our most perverse electronica urges from early to late. Rather than assault us with abrasive beats straight from the traps, we’re eased gently into the good night with a short acoustic set from Richie of the ever-wonderful Redneck Manifesto.

The first ever live performance from Somadrone AKA Neil O’Connor of the Connect 4 Orchestra is heavily anticipated given the aural delights of his debut 10” EP. O’Connor beavers away from his sonic sanctuary behind his computer, twisting and teasing deliciously weird sounds into thrilling shapes. The excellent backdrops from the Designer’s Republic fit the script beautifully, providing the necessary eye-candy to give O’Connor’s set a necessary visual impetus.

The Connect shower have been tickling our fancies and fantasies in an instrumental guise to great effect in recent months. Tonight their guitar-driven sound is rested in favour of an electronic improvisation set, which may sound horrendous on paper but is vibrant and wonderfully fluid onstage.

Freeform follows in a perfect one man and a box of deranged tricks style, pumping up the volume and jacking up the tempo to prepare us for the all-out freak out that is to come.

Max Tundra is a tiny man also known as Ben Jacobs, whose minute frame lends to the weirdness of the proceedings perfectly as this supersonic dwarf takes centre stage to conduct his own blend of sheer sonic insanity. Max attacks his collection of beatboxes, synths and effects boards with a relish and enthusiasm you just don’t get from most beard-scratching musos that plague this often awful genre.

On top of all this, Tundra tinkers around with a xylophone box and a melodium and it looks and sounds great. Culling his set mainly from his most recent album and candidate for best title ever, Some Best Friend You Turned Out To Be, the only thing that bothered most punters was this was a little on the short side.

For the benefit of the hardcore, Jacobs proceeded to wreck heads and dancefloor for another hour or so with a typically perverse selection of vinyl. Hats off to the insane.