Jonathan Snipes is standing on stage. Shirtless and stoic in acid washed jeans, the Captain Ahab frontman has got that ‘Don’t touch me little people, I’m Dave Navarro and you’re not’ look in his eye. Over a hammering techno beat, he’s singing about dirty sex with dirty people. In the crowd below is the Los Angeles duo’s other half, Jim Merson. Wearing tennis shoes and tighty whities, he’s running towards you with a frothy determination that makes you wonder if you can still get a rabies vaccination at this time of night. Merson doesn’t know you but he humps your leg nonetheless, covers you in sweat, and moves on to his next victim. Phrases like “restraining order” and “pregnancy test” flash through your mind, but you get yourself under control. Looking around, you see the audience – many of whom have also stripped down to their underwear – dancing as shamelessly as of a bunch of eight-year-old girls at a wedding reception. They seem to be having the time of their lives and by the end of the night, you will be too.