You'll often find O Superman crowbarred into her shows – it's Anderson's Stairway to Heaven, her Wonderwall. Perhaps she thinks that audiences will be disappointed not to hear it. You're also guaranteed to see some novel gadgetry, such as her own invented musical instruments. There's her Tape Violin – a proto-sampler that she developed in the 70s by stretching a two-foot section of magnetic tape across a bow, which is rubbed against a tape head on the bridge of a violin. There's her Talking Stick, a long paddle that emits samples of prerecorded sounds (seagulls, ships, bagpipes). There's Head Music, in which Anderson places contact microphones around her skull, amplifying internal sounds – breathing, gnashing teeth, grinding jaws, clicking tongues – that are usually only heard internally. There's the suit which turns movements into patterns on a drum machine; and there's the table that enables you to hear speech silently through your bones.
Where it all leaves us is unclear. Her music is hypnotic and her ululating voice is oddly comforting, like that of a children's TV presenter, but the random ideas she expresses can be disconcerting. Familiar phrases are twisted, while she juxtaposes images, words and music that clash violently with each other. Even at her worst, Anderson's shows have the power to surprise you. "I would like to be a voice in the dark," she says, "pointing at something over there, saying 'look behind you!'