It was October ‘07 that Bob Rifo and Tommy Tea, The Bloody Beetroots, played at The Order of Melbourne. They were little known then and the temporary PA system installed at The Order only served to inflict a severe migraine on my poor body.

Fast-forward a year and half. Having released Cornelius and the Rombo EP in 2008, a brash track called Warp hit the clubs this year. So the Beetroots, kitted out in their Venom masks, played to a sold out show in the Prince Bandroom; their cult following of 2007 joined by the masses.

Lucky for me, Prince’s speakers, far from melting under intense pressure, shook the walls of the club and the hearts of many. The floor was in a perpetual state of shudder – any surface my hand rested on vibrated with the bass and thrash of bloody sound. This venue exudes a stadium vibe with its flash lighting and clean sound, and yet it still has all the intimacy of a backroom at 5AM.

Beneath the disgustingly good bass, was a subtle set of unadulterated entertainment. It would be better to asses the hour and a half set as made up of many little sets, where a beat or bass would drop, sending the whole club into frenzy, until calm would descend on both beat and crowd. This process continued to repeat itself, again and again. Flailing elbows were a hazard, but any bruises were a testament to the energy the Beetroots gave the crowd, and how much energy the crowd delivered right back at them.

There was cheeky song selection, but modest intentions prevented the Bloody Beetroots from flogging their own music unnecessarily. Of course Warp and Cornelius were noticeable crowd-pleasers, but they played relatively short samples of I Love the Bloody Beetroots and their remix of Timbaland’s Miscommunication.

When the Beetroots delivered a bass laden ode to A Fifth of Beethoven the ceiling trembled from the weight of the speakers. As they worked over MSTRKRFT’s Bounce the glass shattered. And when they played Tiga’s Mind Dimension people almost shat on the floor. Not once did the energy falter. Where moshing made the gig seem like a rock concert, the strobe lights was a reminder that you were still in a club, dancing to the performance of Italian maestros.

Our bodies drained and sweaty, we were spat out of the Prince ultimately content. I loved The Bloody Beetroots.