Putting Getdown Services in the seated, lecture hall-like space of the Southbank Centre's Purcell Room makes no sense. The gloriously chaotic, speak-sing-disco-rock-whatever project of Bristolian besties Josh Law and Ben Sadler, the duo played one of their first shows as a glorified karaoke wedding gig and have since become one of the UK's most talked about new bands by virtue of their uncontainable, sweaty and delirious live presence. Like the opposite of a Love Island match, their booking as part of Harry Styles' Meltdown Festival line-up is not their type on paper.
Law and Sadler, walking out to the sounds of Status Quo in sports-casual T-shirts and shorts, are keenly aware of the discrepancy. "Hello seated room! We're not doing music tonight, we're just gonna talk about our dark past. Anyone got a dark past? How's this crowd work doing?" they riff back and forth with the sort of jovial piss-taking that suggests a night of Getdown stand up would actually be a fine thing. "Has anyone not seen us before? You've picked the worst one. This is mental. It's like Question Time without the questions…"
They might not have the hard-hitting political chops of Fiona Bruce, or the mass of sardine-packed bodies down front that they're used to, yet from the off, the duo have the crowd in the palm of their hands. What do you do when life takes a surreal turn? You go hell for leather, head bang, dance your socks off. At the start, Sadler makes an exaggerated point of not letting anyone stand up: "You've paid for a seated gig, fucking sit down!!!" When they do finally get everyone on their feet, it's like a giddy, PG version of the classic crouch down/ spring up trick. Yes it's all very silly, but - if we're talking about how their crowd work is doing - it's also really rather smart.
Such is the trick at the heart of Getdown Services as a whole. On one hand, they're ridiculous - having spent the last 20 years going to more gigs than I can possibly recall, I can hand on heart say I've never seen a band bring on a plate of French cheese for the encore before. But it wouldn't work if the music wasn't actually good: socially astute, witty observations and bizarre analogies strung around songs that variously veer between deadpan disco bops (Crisps), shuffling rock'n'roll (Head Down For The Conversation) and Daft Punk party stormers (Caesar). The overall vibe is somewhere between Mike Skinner and Chas and Dave, but with Prince-like guitar solos on Get Back Jamie and about the most noisy joy you can make with a six string and a synth. It's surely the simplest set up of the entire festival, but Law and Sadler's personalities and sheer insatiable enthusiasm fill the stage. The show is about as much fun as you can have with your clothes on, except then they whip their tops off and the crowd energy goes up another notch still.
A list of other things that happen during Getdown Services' set: A new song entitled Lentils, which sings about eczema and steroid cream. A whole-crowd line dancing section. A gag about Styles being a terrible person who hates the RSPB. "I don't know why we're here. I can only presume someone on his team needs sacking. I was always more of a Niall Horan fan myself," declares Law before breaking into a brief cover of the latter's Dinner Party and mooning the crowd by way of an exit.
As the duo end with an encore of irrepressible current 6 Music favourite The Radiator and a final, riffing Dog Dribble, it's clear that tonight's booking wasn't some sort of bizarre clerical error but actually a stroke of genius. Getdown Services can turn any room into the greatest party you're likely to find. They jokingly call themselves 'Britain's Best Band' - if we're talking in terms of a fun per minute ratio, they're probably not wrong. Next time they're back in the capital, it'll be for two nights at the far larger Roundhouse in December. If tonight saw them serving up moonwalks and camembert, lord only knows what they'll have planned then.
