Most bands form for a variety of boringly normal reasons: to make records, be on the Big Breakfast or pillage hotels. The All-Seeing I have a nobler purpose. JP Buckle, Dean Honer and Parrot pooled their DJ-ing and production skills with the express intention of singing the praises of Sheffield. Next month's debut album, Pickled Eggs & Sherbet, features three generations of local talent, from 70s smootho Tony Christie to Babybird's Stephen Jones, with contributions from Jarvis Cocker and the Human League's Phil Oakey.
The only drawback to hosting such an array is that it rather overshadows the hosts, who merely make techno noises in the background. Still, if their luck holds - three hits suggest it just might - they could end up an exhibit in their hometown's National Centre for Popular Music.
Perversely, the All-Seeing trio staged their first major gig in London's East End, in a replica music hall decorated with portraits of Victorian pop stars Florrie Forde and Little Tich. The venue underscored the contrariness that sets the group apart from other backroom crews. The sounds coming from the decks and keyboards may have been Ibiza trance-fluff, but the entertainment ethic was of a much earlier vintage.
A fat man in a poncho and stetson was master of ceremonies, in charge of everything from singing to camply asking, "Is everybody daaaancing?" He opened with an insinuatingly arch version of Walk Like a Panther, a melancholy cabaret pastiche sung by Tony Christie on the album. It's the Alls' best-known number, and as such should have been saved till later, but its description of Sheffield - "a jumble sale left out in the rain" - was almost a statement of intent.
A couple of long-winded rave numbers followed, then Phil Oakey appeared, still a commanding baritone presence, to talk-sing 1st Man in Space. Cocker was next, a vision in brown leatherette epitomising Sheffield's take on male fashion. He spent the first half of the show in the audience, unobtrusively nodding to the trance-u-like beats, and quickly disappeared after singing his self-penned Drive Safely, Darlin', a bubbling house number about "always using the highway code".
He missed the fat man's vocal impersonation of a bass guitar, and the heavy metal finale that saw everyone onstage flailing their heads as if they were on day release from Def Leppard (speaking of whom, why was this Sheffield band not invited?).
It was a strange show, pioneering in its combination of dance signatures and tragicomic northernness. Had she been there, the All-Seeing I's most famous remix client, Britney Spears, would have been suitably bemused.
