There's nothing so elaborate as a stage in this venue. Dandi Wind stake out their territory in a corner of the dance floor, over by the entrance to the gents. If the band are a little taken aback by their surroundings, they don't show it. The set-up is simple: drums, keyboards, vocals. Two impassive chaps in thrift shop glam rags get behind the instruments. And a small green explosion detonates on vocals. This is Dandi herself: an aerobics instructor on fast forward, a barely tamed hurricane, a forest of frenziedly whirling windmills somehow encased in a human body and a psychedelic green leotard. She hurls herself around as if pursued by several devils, leaping about in front of the clustered new wavers in a manner entirely unencumbered by self-consciousness or, indeed, the force of gravity. All the while she yelps out a machine-gun staccato vocal as the drums frantically rattle and the keyboards honk and wail. Dandi wind aren't so much a band as an assemblage of sound effects, but somehow the sheer onslaught of rhythm and energy coalesces into something akin to music. It's fast and manic and glorious - and also strangely unsettling. This kind of mad rush of a set, without even the dividing line of a stage edge to separate band from performers, has a certain flavour of danger that you just don't get at more conventional gigs. While Dandi is never less than cheery and affable, grinning as manically as her quick-fire delivery allows, there's a certain sense of anything-can-happen-ness about the band that shoves them way beyond the usual indie chancer zone.
The set is enlivened by a steady stream of nervous blokes scampering through the performance area on their way to the bog - at one point Dandi follows a couple of lads in, the door swinging closed on her mic lead. I don't know what went on behind that closed door, but the lads looked a little shellshocked when they emerged. There's never a CCTV camera around when you want one, is there? A mere rumble and tumble after that, it's last song time. It is, of course, the nearest thing Dandi Wind have to a hit single, the surreal thunder of 'Balloon Factory', a song which even ticks the catchy chorus box. Although, in Dandi Wind's world, a catchy chorus goes something like 'Wang diddly dang dang, diddle biddle wang wong ping pong'. Ah, they don't write 'em like that any more. In fact, I don't think they ever did...until Dandi Wind came along.
For more photos from this gig, find Dandi Wind by name here.