Kid Koala, The Sanctuary, Birmingham

The mainstream side of DJ Kid Koala's scratching activities include prestigious support slots on Radiohead, Beastie Boys and Björk tours. Koala has even been making animation shorts for Sesame Street, and sees his Short Attention Span Theatre concept as a multi-media experience, inspired by the Muppets and Monty Python rather than full-on DJ culture.

Eric San was born in Vancouver, but changed his name to Kid Koala after moving to Montreal. In his set, he likes to include records with koala references, with a starched-tone Stateside narrator detailing the mating habits of the namesake cuddly Australian mammal.

This touring show has mostly been performed in seated venues, but this time the Kid was caught up in a full three-room hip hop club space, his intentions side-tracked by an initially empty cavern. Koala's colleague DJ Jester warms up the sparsely dotted moochers, then the pigtailed Lederhosen Lucil struts onstage, dressed like a Bavarian, and making a limp attempt at a suitable accent. She sings in a pertly punky shout, jabbing Yamaha keyboard with pre-programmed beats, swerving into reggae and country ditties as the punters start to roll in for the Kid.

Koala has now decided to abort the cabaret approach, weighing in with a more belligerent club set. Nevertheless, this still includes plenty of downtempo pieces from the debut Carpal Tunnel Syndrome and the recent Some Of My Best Friends Are DJs.

Koala opens alone, running about between three decks, setting a disc spinning, then jumping to another turntable for a solo scratch, flicking his cross-fader switch in a lightning blur. Soon, he's joined by P-Love and Jester, the trio cutting and changing between their turntables, swapping places as the co-ordinated mayhem ensues.

Koala is a personable chap, unconcerned with putting on a macho act, but still confidently doing battle with his partners. The Kid sets two discs running in tandem, rotating each back in turn to create a feeling of stasis over which he'll wriggle out curly maggots of stylus-dragging sound. He's a master of collage, creating Frankenstein music out of unlikely sources. His old "Drunk Trumpet" routine best displays what can be done to a jazz solo, altering its pitch, repeating and shunting impatiently back and forth.

Koala stresses several times that he doesn't make dance music, but this still doesn't prevent him from slamming out chunky beats, scratching with an aggressive rhythmic edge.

The hard-packed crowd is mashed up tightly against the stage, undeterred even when Koala completely rips up all hip-hop expectations with "Moon River", placidly cooling, spinning the platters fairly straight. But even when the Kid is ostensibly playing it straight, he's one of hip hop's most extreme characters.