Mick Collins is bent over double, his guitar like a toy in his massive hands, sweat flying off him in all directions, back to the audience, eyes screwed up behind big black shades, playing a guitar solo with his teeth. To his right, new guitar and bass player Ko stares wildly into the crowd, jaw hanging loose, eyes rolling back, her long black hair sticking to her face as she pounds out a huge, resonant bass fuzz sound, then she's holding her bass out over the crowd, the front row scratching at the strings. On the other side of the stage, Troy keeps the song together with his super-tight, instantly recognisable and immensely creative bass work. And in the engine room, the two drummers (Ben Blackwell and Patrick Pantano) are powering the whole thing forward, battering the shit out of their kits, bouncing off each other, exchanging fills and improvisations.

The Dirtbombs make an impressive visual spectacle, and an even more impressive rock 'n' roll racket. They open with an extended drum workout that slowly melts over the ice-cool shuffle of "Kung-fu", then straight into a full-throttle rendition of "Start The Party": it's so loud and fast that it throws me off balance completely... a couple of songs later I still haven't caught my breath as they tear through "Underdog" and "Chains of Love". I'm swept away completely in this glorious, fuzzy, filthy racket, my drink flying everywhere then dropped and forgotten, crushed towards the front by people jumping around, their arms and hands flailing all over. If you don't want to dance to this, I'd check your pulse. The bass driven resonance of their sound is breathtakingly powerful, and although they're incredibly well-practiced, it still feels like it's loose and raw and held together with gaffer tape - skillfully played, but with that essential air of spontaneity that makes it work so well live.

They end on another huge drum-off between Blackwell and Pantano - they stop for a moment and both leap onto the top of their bass drum while the audience raise the roof with applause and screaming - then they carry on, Ko reappears, and they jam out some stupidly danceable noise for a few minutes before tumbling through the curtain at the back of the stage.

The Dirtbombs are up there with the very best live rock 'n' roll bands around. It might be a sticky London Monday night at 93 Ft. East, but The Dirtbombs make it feel like one of the best Saturday nights out I'll have all year.