Hedluv and Passman: 2 Cornish Rappers and a Casiotone

“The best thing to come out of Cornwall since tin.”

From the moment Hedluv and Passman bound on stage and launch into an unintelligible 'Doin' it Dreckly', it's apparent that they have put little thought into their hour. As the former smirks from behind his Casiotone keyboard, the latter parades across the stage in a sleeveless vest and tight fitting shorts. He dances enthusiastically, thrusts his crotch in our faces and throws the mic around like Roger Daltrey. This is essentially the basis of their entire act and we're stuck with it for 60 minutes.

Though they are to be applauded for their indifference to what audiences or critics might think of them, there is an unpleasant side to their apathy and the show starts to feel like a malicious trap for late night punters who don't know any better. Steeped as they are in irony, the performers seem to delight in their own failure and boast of their inability to successfully promote themselves, resigned to appearing before single figure crowds each night. Their first song is so unfunny it prompts a walk out and any momentum it builds is quashed by technical difficulties with the keyboard. They have forgotten to bring a setlist on stage and so spend much of the hour unsure of what to do next. Is this intentional anti-comedy? We have to assume so, for they seem a charismatic, naturally funny pair when they engage self-deprecatingly with the audience. It's too bad their show is very nearly a complete waste of time for all involved.