The group discuss disastrous gigs, putting political action into music and the meaning of "queer pop".

At AC/DC's first gig, the club owner cut the power because they were too noisy. Sam Smith started at barn dances, singing on top of a haystack. At Robert Smith's first concert, he got so drunk that he sang David Bowie's Suffragette City while the rest of the band played Jimi Hendrix's Foxy Lady. At the start of their career, the band got a call from their record label. We know you've just flown overnight from London, they said, but you have to get to Las Vegas. Why? Because they'd been booked to play Pet-A-Palooza, a dog adoption festival sponsored by the local radio station. If they turned up, the station would support their new single. "We were all sick, so it was doomed from the start," recalls guitarist Josette Maskin. "It was an acoustic set, but we didn't have a sound guy, and the guitar started feeding back." "The dogs were getting upset," says Maskin, wincing at the memory. "They just howled the whole time. "We were mortified, but looking back, it is so funny. And I've gotten to share those experiences with some of my best friends, and that's what life is really about." Over the past decade, they've become one of the most compelling live bands around – a little bit punk, a little bit electronic, a little bit 80s, eminently watchable and endlessly impressive.