Musique sans capitalisme, anyone? Yes? Marvellous. Despite gale force winds, snow, and several severe cases of Easter weekend over-indulgence, by 8pm the home of esteemed photographer Mr Owen Richards (plus his undeniably tolerant housemates) is packed to the rafters with more amps, guitars and bands than any self-declared music hack or party aficionado could possibly shake a stick at. In fact, were any sticks to be shaken in this converted Hackney warehouse (excluding in the bizarrely oversized bathroom), it’s quite possible many a reveller would have received a painful poke to the navel or some other (less forgiving) region, such is the sardine-like proximity of the chattering crowd.

With openers Pennines set and ready to roll, the latent (and possible non-arrival) of a vocal PA looks set to put a mild dampener on the evenings proceedings. Confusion reigns for a hour or so fuelled by DJ Turquoise Boy’s altruistic mix of ‘90s hits (many best forgotten, Hanson anyone?) and Britpop offerings, after which Brighton instrumentalists Hot Damn take matters into their own hands, leaping into the driving seat for a last minute nine o’clock opening slot.

Despite the haphazard nature of DIY house shows, tonight the sound is spot on, the quintet’s powerful blend of epic, synth and six-string sonic implosions rolling over drummer Rich Phoenix’s edgy beats like ocean waves crashing into the shore. Heads are nodding and bodies following, and with a truly monumental finale, Hot Damn may prove a hard act to follow.

At 10pm the PA finally arrives, and after a hasty soundcheck Pennies launch their melodic, alt-math assault on the ever-expanding audience. Intense, layered guitars weave conflictingly harmonious paths around vocalist and guitarist Henry Tremain’s heartfelt lyrics, whilst schizophrenic time signatures and powerful melodies mask the underlying complexity of their songs. Truly phenomenal in both conviction and ability, Pennines will undoubtedly be creating shock waves across the UK for some time to come.

Turquoise Boy introduces the third band of the evening with a cheeky shot of Boyzone’s ‘Back For Good’, a fact about which Irish quartet Hooray For Humans seem almost a little too enthusiastic. Frequently compared to the likes of Californian alt-rockers Mates Of State, their boy/girl vocals and electro fuelled alt-pop of is a hit of pure party attitude. Aided by quite possibly the tallest bass-player in Ireland (his massive afro giving him a considerable advantage) the four-piece romp through their set with booze-soaked glee, smatterings of drunken dancing breaking out across the room in response to their addictively catchy beats.

Nigh on midnight, Super Tennis, resplendent in white headbands and tennis shorts, finally make their way onto the floor. Showcasing some of their legendary centre court-related banter to the playful groans of the audience, the London trio quickly pound the excited room into an unstoppable frenzy, their tri-vocal semi screamed lyrics, rampant beats and eclectic loops, samples, and guitars creating a holy racket of a pumped-up math-punk explosion. Fuck the Easter egg hunts. This is music played how it should be: raw, exposed, fun, and accessible to everyone. Nique la capitalisme. DIY is where it’s at.