Anyone who has ever studied GCSE music or bought a fancy keyboard (or both) will tell you that most of the time you’re sat scrolling through the different voices looking for the most atmospheric or just plain bizarre sounds.

Relentless List are the sort of band that seem to have the perseverance to elevate such a practice of arsing about to artistic levels, and create blurry yet crunchy dance-scapes that round up a world full of genres with an electric cowbell, a temperamental laptop and a cheeky wink. Some songs involve hot, dusty mariachi trumpet mixed with chat show theme tune muzak. Some songs sounds a bit like ska had it been invented in a lift by Dracula, and some sound like post-rock had it ditched all those tedious ideas about stealth. Some songs flit between being shadowy and ambient to being sunny and full of handclaps and... uhm... it’s great. (This isn’t the sort of band you use big words for.) Oh, and one of them is also in Electric Soft Parade, but that’s by the by really.

Meanwhile, KateGoes seem to have taken every conceivably sublimely ridiculous sound in the world, squashed it into a heap and somehow bashed it around the edges into an unrecognisable yet utterly delightful shape. My jaw might as well be in the basement. They start doing beatboxing and Muppet Show-style raps based around a piano, but their breed of kitchen-sink pop knows no style that it can’t fluff-up to sound all pretty with a clarinet, a mandolin and a squeaky toy. At times they’re growling like Ari Up used to do, only if she grew up on a diet of Coco Pops rather than reggae, and at others they’re lisping about dollies like they’re warped five-year-olds. Then they’re singing conversations to each other like an anti-social Bobby McGees until everything crescendos and they’re thrashing about and screaming like the noisiest bits of Bearsuit (nurse! My heart’s exploded!) or until the bass player decides to go fishing over the side of the stage because they’ve started an a cappella sea shanty.

And THEN they’re singing in sweet harmony about going to Asda, or throwing shapes to what sounds like the twee-est rave noises they can muster up, or operatically bellowing out the word "flob". It’s soundwaves as the sweetest whirlwind. It’s glee-ridden cutesy-core music that you’d want to take on a picnic even if it’s raining, and a band you’d want living in your brain just in case the threat of gloominess ever approaches. Which basically means, in the mildest of language, they’re the bestest group that’s ever existed ever. Ever ever ever ever. In the world. Times a hundred. Yay!

Seeing as the night is then rounded off by Misty’s Big Adventure, I’m grinning so hard that you might as well have sellotaped the corners of my mouth to my forehead. They may have songs about Dubya’s reign of terror, paedophilic religious leaders and children turning into vicious cannibals because of radioactive mobile phone masts, but they’re still with each tour almost miraculously sounding more and more fun every time. Not just fun, but so unbelievably joyous that it’s like some alternate universe where the government has put an official limit on fun only for Misty’s to protest against it by stealing a year’s worth of the fun ration books and turn them into trumpets. They’ve got a wealth of already gob-smackingly good new songs, not least the scene-baiting new single ‘Fashion Parade’ that closes proceedings, but the bulk of it makes them sound even more psychedelic and dramatic than before.

‘I Can’t Bring Back Time’ sees ringleader Gareth crooning all puppy-eyed about regret, and ‘How Did You Manage To Get Inside My Head?’ finds military stomping melting into serene organ music. They’re mesmerising, yes, but they can also get mild-mannered barflies to dance like they’ve just freebased sherbet; to accidentally put their dancing shoes on their hands and they ain’t gonna feel guilty at all, man. Not only that, but they can turn Erotic Volvo (you know, just your average monster in a red suit with a few dozen blue hands) into a Bez-style mute preacher, getting people to mime all the dance moves as the music spirals into a tumultuous pop assault.

The rapture they both harnessed and prompted tonight confirms it - when Misty’s Big Adventure are in town, you just gotta bop.