FIDLAR, Electric Brixton, London

FIDLAR haven’t even come on yet and already the stage is a mess. A crew member is emptying a bin liner onto it and strewing – or rather arranging – the contents. When the band emerge from the darkness – kitted out in white boiler suits and hi-vis vests – they’ve got to clear up. It’s all a bit odd, but it all feels very FIDLAR.

After that, it’s time to light the incinerator – with their explosive cover of the Beastie Boys’ ‘Sabotage’. Now the outfits make sense. Now the party can begin.

This is a show where the strength of the barriers is tested to the max. There’s barely a moment when the sea of bodies doesn’t resemble waves crashing onto rocks. Every so often, someone will make it over, the most daring among them managing to reach the stage, dodge security and take one hell of a dive back into the sweat-soaked throng. It’s all part of “the FIDLAR experience” as Zac Carper calls it. Even when things do calm down, it’s only in preparation for the most riotous moment of the night. As is customary with the ferocious garage-punk beast that is ‘Cocaine’, Zac requests that everyone sit down – until the song erupts into life. And HOW this place erupts with it. It’s a wonder more don’t fall as they shoot to their feet and collide with one another.

That’s by no means the only eruption. Zac may stand arms folded when he’s not playing that spiderwebbed guitar of his on part of ‘No Waves’, but this crowd couldn’t be any more animated. The raucous ‘Cheap Beer’ and ‘Punks’ bring with them the expected carnage while ‘Max Can’t Surf’ – on the man himself’s birthday – and ‘West Coast’ are met with their usual fervent sing-alongs.

Though the venue fast develops its own tropical microclimate, there’s no stopping FIDLAR or their ever-adoring fans from having an absolute blast. From start to finish, it’s been nothing less.