Live Review: The Vaudeville Smash & Sex On Toast

Sex On Toast are probably the greatest band on earth. They are nine men, and between them they possess all the raw sexual power of Prince, the musical prowess of James Brown and the cheesy goodness of an '80s game show host. Sex On Toast bring the ruckus. This is the fourth Monday of a month-long residency and each week the crowd has increased in size and fervour. It's a beautiful thing to see a massive Monday night crowd go apeshit and Sex On Toast are a sexual band. They lure the crowd close to them immediately, then they throw around banter between them as easily as they throw off their clothes. Angus Leslie is wonderful and it's only right that his nipples get a lot of attention. Shirtless is the only way to sing classics like Deep by Blackstreet, and Gigolos Get Lonely Too by The Time. Zak Pidd gets down to his jocks and is only saved from being arrested for public full-frontal by a quick sleight of his own hand. The crowd bays for an encore as soon as the band leave the stage but all we get is a Leslie groin thrust. If the last three weeks are anything to go by, this is not the last we'll see of them.

The crowd thins a little after Sex On Toast leave the stage. To those who left: you missed the best bit. But we'll get to that. Sex On Toast are a hard act to follow but the wonderful Vaudeville Smash do it with panache. (Check out their Pozible campaign and get Vaudeville Smash to SXSW.) Their smooth, synth-heavy sound is where disco collides with the soundtrack of every '80s movie montage you've ever seen. It makes you move. Theirs are songs about drunken cowgirls, roller discos and dirty old men. Sex On Toast brought the sex. Vaudeville Smash bring the sax and the flute. They are masters of the catchy hook and the hands-in-the-air chorus. The brilliant Devil's Said segues into Daft Punk's Around The World via James Bowers' talk-box genius; Hey There Danny sees guitarist Nick Lam shred like it's 1987, and Hey is utterly joyful. And then comes the best part of the night – there's 13 sweaty, musical men on stage playing the best version of Warren G's Regulate you've ever heard. “This has been the greatest residency of all time,” says Zak Pidd, and it's not just hyperbole. It really might be the truth.