Freakender @ The Old Hairdressers, Glasgow, 14-16 Sep

Freakender is the undisputed calendar highlight of the Glasgow events collective with whom it shares its name – comprised of local worker bees El Rancho Records, Fuzzkill Records and Eyes Wide Open. Now in its third year, the concept of Freakender is simple: ram as many of your favourite bands into your favourite city centre venue for a stacked weekend of loud music, partying, an exceptional number of high-quality mullets, vintage clothes stalls, plentiful booze and cheap and cheerful food. The result is one part music festival, one part inebriation endurance test and all of it flanked by an exceptional soundtrack.

This year is no different and Glasgow art rock supergroup Kaputt steal the show on the opening night, even if their headline slot is bumped up a couple hours earlier due to last minute travel changes. Featuring Chrissy Barnacle and members from Breakfast Muff, Lush Purr, Hairband and The Yawns, the band sit somewhere between rock and a hard place, but somehow never squashed. A heady mix of post-punk pop that kicks us off right.

Saturday sees the crowd a little thin on the ground at first; soon fleshed out good and proper by a fair share of bleary eyes and ghostly complexions. But the raw, squalling power pop of Savage Mansion is enough to suppress the queasy, wake up the tired and give the sensible folks in attendance playing the long game something to get worked up over. Headliners in many ways themselves, the band lay waste to the post-lunch slump with a full-fat glass of sharp humour, irresistible hooks and ear-splitting noise.

Downstairs, young train-lagged Londoners, Honkies ride the line between vintage store cool, knowing humour and barbed, wonky punk. Occupying some kind of unlikely sweet spot between Minutemen, The Dead Milkmen and Bob Dylan at his most sarcastic, they’ve got guts, energy and cool in spades.

As the day progresses, the crowd bob up and down the stairs at the Old Hairdo, getting increasingly slower with every rep, but somehow finding the strength and resilience to carry on deep into the night. And it’s probably got something to do with the sprawling bill, culling some of the finest psych/garage/punk/pop weirdos from the US, Europe and UK.

Among many highlights, Melenas treat the packed out bottom bar to some welcome fuzzy Spanish garage pop; London’s Ice Baths live up to their chill name with some entrancing glacial post-punk and Austin, Texas’s Holy Wave put in a mighty shift upstairs, clambering over the PA and dousing the rammed out masses with some potent, new age psych.

The freakend, as it were, could’ve easily ended there after clearly reaching a peak. But alas, lurking in the mist, an even greater summit soon reveals itself in the form of celebrated electronic vibe ambassadors, Free Love. Formerly known as Happy Meals, the frenetic synth-wielding duo are the personification of positivity through music, using performance and sound – in the form of genuine party bangers – to free us all from the boring bullshit in our lives. When they’re not cranking out beats ankle to ankle, vocalist Suzi Rodden is out prowling and strutting around The Old Hairdressers like a glam rock panther while Lewis Cook headbangs back in the engine room, going to town on those vintage synths and samplers. Their talent is matched only by their capacity for joy, and everyone leaves with a lot more than they came with.

That just leaves Sunday, which was always going to be a tough ride after Saturday – in terms of quality and quantity –  but U.S. Highball, featuring members of Glasgow indie folks The Pooches, are a welcome early evening opener, easing us back into action with a warm, healthy dose of charming, jangly pop in the vein of Magnetic Fields and Beat Happening.

It’s a stark contrast to fellow city dwellers Nekkuro Hána however, whose almost indecipherable mix of psych, prog, funk, post-punk and other genres is no subtle affair. Perhaps one of the oddest groups on the bill, they’re still a blast to watch and are clearly in possession of some serious chops.

As we draw to a close, Manchester’s Irma Vep – now bumped up to a full live band – give us one last heavyweight blow right to the chin to send us home. Hypnotic, cathartic and at times genuinely funny, the band’s performance is confident and powerful, driving their way through pulsing, psychy drone and caustic, stabby punk.

A couple of hecklers push bandleader Edwin Stevens' buttons, who shuts them down mercilessly without batting an eyelid, while a few hairy tech issues and clumsy clangers threaten to ram a stick in the band’s spokes, but this just adds to the tension of one of the most compelling sets of the weekend and a worthy closer. Which brings us to the end of another successful instalment from these fast-rising Glasgow freaks, whose presence in the city is most certainly a welcome one. Here's to more freaky weekends!