The third of January, the calm before the storm. London almost seems dead quiet for a change. As we gently recover from all the joys of the festive season, a friend comes to town to visit, thankfully prising this writer off the couch and away from the post New Year’s eve comedown.

We're looking for something, small, fun, and random – to complete his day in the big smoke. The NME listings provide little inspiration, but then that ever-present thing called thelondonpaper actually saves our night. Who knew? We make a mental note to remember this serendipitous occasion after a name on the listings jumps out at our well-informed compadre. “Oh look, it’s Eats Tapes, that electro duo from San Fransisco!”

And so we find ourselves back in Soho, at a club called Everything Must Go (Formerly known as Pop, and temporarily using this name from last November to this month). The classy interior instantly impresses, and as the choppy mix of mashed-up beats and noises hits our eardrums, he remarks, “Yeah, I felt like some fucked up electro tonight.” This could be just the little gem we were looking for.

When Little Paper Squares take the stage, the initial thought was "Oh wow, we’ve just paid money to come out and see men dance in their underwear. Wicked." They’re loud, they’re extroverts, they’re crazily passionate about the noise they’re making – Little Paper Squares were nothing if not entertaining. We could sum them up as crazy electro nudity, in baby pink y-fronts (and matching socks), while the other guy wore a more modest pair of yellow track pants. The nudity bit came when the one in pink decide to show off his ass, and then his ‘walnut’ to the lucky (cringing) crowd.

But all that aside, I respected the roars he used to start off the set, while the other guy revved the crowd up, and demanded everyone stand up and come to the front. And I appreciated the spectacularly crap 80s karaoke element – Phil Collins You Know I Love You sung with an emotionally pained expression, and when they passed round the mic again, your writer even did a chorus of Tracy Chapman’s Fast Car for the hell of it. It all had a surreal effect, in between the shockingly loud blasts from the speakers, and the odd stillness after a girl did a poetry reading, in German. It isn’t a set to forget in a hurry. 

San Francisco duo Eats Tapes were completely into it, in a different way. They remained absorbed and absorbing with the quality noodlings on their machines, performed live for our dancing pleasure. We enjoyed it as much as they did – the perfect mixture of beats, horns, and excellently groovy basslines. Sophisticated and every bit as satisfying. 2007 was already off to a good start.

[story by Dedee W]