It must be one of the most unlikely Popronde triumphal marches of recent years. An obscure trio from Rotterdam with a sexually charged band name, a standing drummer, and a possessed singer wearing a navy cap - pouring an exceptionally filthy kind of post-punk over the audience.

'Post-penis krautpop disco punk', they call it themselves, and anyone who has seen this band live knows exactly what that means. The lyrics are schmutzig, the music raw and angular like the streetscape of their Rotterdam. Through word-of-mouth, the trio saw their live reputation grow, from Apeldoorn and Sittard to Paris. And Vlieland is not safe either.