Junior Senior

Many a soul could be seen skulking around London in the latter half of this week. Invariably it was because they didn't have a ticket to see the Flaming Lips' psychedelic extravaganza on their two-night sojourn to Kentish Town. But for others it was no matter, because for them, there was only one place where the party was at.

The Metro, never the most appealing of places, is packed out, heaving and pretty f**king grim with it with it. However, there are some things that people will endure worsened conditions for and Junior Senior are, at the moment, certainly one of those entities. The vibe is balls-out, punch-the-air excitement, the music is spazzmo whiteboy scando-hop with a big dose of seventies rock-love. Junior, a diminutive love god offering all kinds of guitar sexsmithery, shares vocals with Senior, a giant of a man who, resplendent in the tackiest of multicoloured visors, looks like an oversized CareBear version of Doves' Jimi Goodwin. Between them and their backing band (stars in their own rights), they indemnify this West End hole against its own grimness, showering it with enough unselfconscious delight to render the place a sunshinin' marvel of salacious grooving hedonism.

The duo exchange idiotboy word play on themes as lowbrow as you could hope for, dedicating 'White Trash' to "_the greatest show we've ever seen; Essex Wives!_". It should be tiresome, but it is utterly brilliant. Recent Radio 1 humping hit 'Move Your Feet' is unsurprisingly the best received song of the evening, but by far the most glorious is their warped and utterly joyful version of 'Twist and Shout' which segues into an industrially charged 'Push It'. The crowd, unsurprisingly, goes nuts. As Junior crashes out a final chord with a frankly majestic flying scissor kick, Senior tosses his microphone into the crowd, and it finishes as chaotically as it began.

Princess Superstar has nothing on this boys; all hail the best electro/glam/hip hop/trash/pop/rock/party band in the world.