Sam Simmons – Meanwhile

The twisted imaginative visions of Sam Simmons really deserve better than to be undercut by a drunken stag do. His performance tonight is to be commended for pushing on with surreal, uneasy creations in the face of regular interruptions from one section of the audience.

A slickly produced space-age introduction baffles and confounds the crowd as Simmons spits nonsensical venom, threatens a strip-tease, showers the front rows in water, retreats for a 'cupboard wank' and bombastically sets 'the rules' for enjoying the show. This aggressive assault of spiralling consciousness is a mere springboard for further explorations into the bizarre and impenetrable, with Kenny Everett style voice-overs, guitar solos and crass drawings forming a sprawling canvas of chaos on stage.

Simmons paces the otherwise unrelenting insanity with intermittent sulks in the corner and well-timed musical routines. There is so much going on in this show that, unfortunately, it seems a bit much for some members of this Friday night crowd. The potential is definitely there for it to have been a much better gig, had it not been for the souring of the atmosphere halfway through the set.