Chevy Chase on fire playing a trumpet. A greased up Arnold Schwarznegger exploding drug dealers. Hundreds of bird’s heads revolving hypnotically. Yes it was just another quiet Monday night at The Corner Hotel in Richmond.

Oh yeah, and Ratatat played just about the coolest set ever. After selling out their first (or second depending on which way you look at it) show on Friday in light speed, the kings of crossover electro thankfully returned to get the working week off to the best of starts. Backed by what was undoubtedly the trippiest set of visuals this boy has ever witnessed, the Brooklyn duo, comprising of Evan Mast and Mike Stroud completely wowed the packed band room. If only all Monday nights could be like this.

Experimental genre bending was the order of the day, and it was set off in style by local freakout duo Qua. The simplicity of their name belies the intricacy of their music, which throughout the hour long set veered from sci-fi jamming to electronic navel-gazing. The brainchild of Cornel Wilczek the ‘songs’ are meditative, mind expanding constructions. Layers of mellow synths gently wash through your head, while epic lines of melody climb and fall all over the place. It’s music on a grand scale…for about fifteen minutes. At the beginning of the set, the room was a bob with heads, appreciating the vast scope of Qua’s vision. Fast forward one hour and most people had migrated to the bar and smoking area. Blame it on the lack of hooks, or the crowd’s impatience to see the main event, but there was not enough to keep an audience interested. It was too experimental for a night like this. Qua make headphone music not dancefloor music. It just didn’t fit.
– œRAT-A-TAT. RAT-A-TAT.’

The crowd was chanting their name. It was emblazoned across the screen. They came in to a synthesized fanfare, with smoke pouring in all directions and went straight into Bustelo. All the pomp and ceremony was worth the wait.

The song actually leapt out of the speakers, the dual guitar attack cracking like a whip over the slowly shuffling programmed drumbeats. By the time Bustelo snapped into Lex, one of the Classics albim’s hookiest numbers, and we all knew were in for some fun.

Ratatat’s music is very hard to define. If I had to cram it into a vaguely digestible label it would be ‘instrumental-heavy metal-electro-dance’. Mike Stroud swaggers like the eightiest of the eighties hair metal guitarists. He has locks and the licks to match too. His towering performance in the early part of the set, his silhouette projected on the screen behind, was something straight out of Poison’s ‘Best of’ album.

Then you have Evan Mast. He quietly goes about his business, swapping from rhythm guitar to bass to keys to drum pads. His compositional skill, especially in the quieter, more melodic breakdowns (look no further than the final two minutes of Loud Pipes ) are positively classical. Ratatat are a band of seemingly irreconcilable contrasts, and you can’t understand just how well it works till you’ve seen them in action. They’re one of those bands that make you continually say ‘wow’ in that awed, reverential way when you watch a sunset or listen to Beethoven or something, but still manage to be great fun.

Mast’s experience as a DJ/Producer shows in their dancier tracks, like Wildcat which I will try to express my love for in as few words as possible. That sample. That hyperactive rhythm guitar. That funky as fuck bassline. It just does not get any better. Period.

As I mentioned at the beginning of the review, the visuals were practically an instrument unto themselves. Perfectly timed to the percussion, it was a visual orgy of pop culture icons, psychedelic colours and nature documentaries. It was cool, unique and fresh, just like the music.

Sadly it all had to end though, and after the most vociferously demanded encore seen for some time, they came back and finished with crowd favourite Seventeen Years. Kicking off with a gritty bassline and spiraling lead guitar, it burns bright and hard, finally diffusing in a wash of melodic keyboard arpeggios and syrupy power chords.

No one could bring themselves to leave after they had left the stage. Even after the house lights had come on and the guitars had been taken away people were milling around, hoping that maybe, just maybe, they might play one more song.

I’m sitting at my desk and I can’t get Ratatat out of my head. I’m addicted. My brain keeps turning their songs over and over. I’m having withdrawals. I can’t sleep. I need another fix.

CHECK OUT THE PHOTOS FROM THE ADDICTIVE RATATAT SET HERE