Brenda @ The Glad Cafe, Glasgow, 28 Jul

R.AGGS, aka Ray Aggs of SAY Award-winners Sacred Paws, heralds our headliners. They lay down lo-fi compositions, getting the first few punters primed. Our opener has an easygoing ethos; tracks never last more than a couple of minutes, and they tease rhythms and loops from a nest of synthesisers, discarding what doesn’t work, finding the right frequency for this flock of early birds. Grinning throughout, they arrange a feel-good ecosystem that doesn’t dissipate over the evening.

When playing guitar or violin, some songs end with discordance or wailing solos. No longer is Aggs crouching over equipment – they’re bounding into the crowd, chasing fans around with instruments, before a face-melter of a synth solo puts a full stop on their set. The stage gets styled with a spray-painted Brenda banner (A Branner), and our appetite is whetted for something wicked.

Brenda is all about dynamism, and the dynamic between these artists makes an instant impression. The trio give top-tier chat while tuning up, their characters revealing as if we’ve changed the channel to a particularly acerbic sitcom. Litty Hughes is a scream in a sparkly jumpsuit, saying “I’m normally the drunk one” before trying to get a chant going for “Camel-toe! Camel-toe!” Across the microKORGs, Flore de Hooge is the cool cat of the collective, swaying steadily from side to side, upright and technical, but equally in on the bawdry back-and-forths with a playful smirk. Behind the drums, Apsi Witana keeps the others on beat, while espousing ultra-cute assertions before each song; “This one’s for the aliens!”

The album launch begins with the band playing the record's final track. Sleep Walking is a techno jam that devolves into a cacophonous finisher, but our hosts have the urge to holler and headbang early, before moving to the more clean-cut, post-punk Pigs. The tracks are each as unique as Brenda’s members, and even when playing the closed-off, complex Shield, or “sexy and stormy” Slave Dad, these big personalities work on the same wavelength. Brenda really is a musical macroorganism. On Cease and Desist, Witana handles most of the lyrics instead of Hughes, showing how any member thrives with every part. They are all Brenda, making a mythical, three-headed creature of dream-pop mastery.

Though they confirmed their encore ahead of time, they still abscond just to draw chants of “one more tune” from the audience. This last song they “recorded, but just forgot to put on the album”. We sadly don't quite catch the title due to the audience's cheers for final special guest Pat, who wanders to the stage’s edge for scritches from newfound fans (writer’s note: Pat is a King Charles Spaniel).

Brenda, along with Pat the Dog (hey, I just got that), go for good. Their eponymous album is launched, and the birthday party served gallons of glam and good humour. Tonight, they really might have been the funnest chimera this side of the Clyde.