The stage is invisible, a wall of fog lit by strobes. Two figures bounce out of the mist, one wearing a giant yellow wizard’s hat that glows fluorescent in the UV light. So dense is the dry ice, so magenta and lime green the lights, sometimes all you can see is this disembodied hat – which belongs to Dylan Brady, 50% of 100 Gecs – or an arm, sometimes attached to Laura Les, the Gecs’ other 50%.
But the duo make their presence felt. Loud, lurid and packed with nagging hooks, 100 Gecs’ music provides the kind of sensory overload that powers moshpits and burrows deep into the brain with its Dr Seuss rhymes and catchy choruses. It’s fitting that you can only see parts of Brady and Les, because their music is so bitty: a barrage of noises, sugary melodies, short, sharp smash-and-grabs on your attention.
