Now it was time for something more cerebral. Hunter Complex was upstairs playing a stripped down, quietly throbbing show to a room full of thoughtful men. Shorn of the film projections as a backdrop (which works so well for him) Lars concentrated on making a restful scene for all of us chinstrokers. Modulations of sound and echoes of rhythm built up a layered, womb-like atmosphere and the dudes all stood and stared at Lars twiddling nobs and pressing keys. As you do. (In fact, what is it about men staring at keyboards? We loves it, the girls just don’t dig it in that “let’s fix the carburetor/ make that 1/25th model of a King Tiger tank” kinda way).