In 1992, with hip-hop increasingly dominated by gangsta rap, LA's Pharcyde felt refreshingly different. Their debut album Bizarre Ride II the Pharcyde underpinned their boisterous, weed-obsessed rhymes with an engaging musical template – a rustle of cymbal, a wandering organ, an unexpected jazz sample – and an attitude that mixed swagger and self-deprecation. Despite a fine J Dilla-produced followup, Labcabincalifornia, collaborations with Spike Jonze and work with Gorillaz, the band have never since produced anything to match its impact; of the original quartet of rappers, only Imani and Bootie Brown remain.

Live, joined by a DJ, a drummer and keyboards, the pair played a set that leaned heavily on their debut. Some of its subtlety was lost: with its funky twists and chimes eschewed for a punchy, percussive treatment and its nimble four-rapper interplay boiled down to a high-energy duet, Ya Mama felt like a joke in need of retirement.

Not that this let the atmosphere down. Imani and Brown perched on speakers, downed tequila, orchestrated call-and-response routines with genuine enthusiasm and bounded, infectious and sweat-flecked, around Koko's stage. And while some of their set drifted into mid-tempo filler, there was plenty to enjoy. A riotous Oh Shit! brought the crowd into a boozy pogo, the arrangements occasionally branched out with real success – slipping from a joyously deep, dubsteppy groove into cheesy funk at one gleeful point – and the high points of their back catalogue were handled with humour and vigour.

By the time they closed with Runnin' – whose lilting verses slipped into a lovely, oddly mournful singalong chorus – the night felt like a proper house party. If the Pharcyde were as good at producing new music as they are at conjuring intimacy, these hip-hop veterans might just have a future to boast, as well as a past to play on.