Hosting the festivities for Frank Turner’s Lost Evenings Festival, kid’s band Koo Koo proved their reputation as “weirdest show we’ve ever been to.”

It’s just past midnight in the lobby of a racetrack and casino about an hour north of Toronto. Under the sickly glow of fluorescent lights, among the ambient whhrr of slot machines, two grown men do jumping jacks and sing a call and response song about farts.

“Hey! Who farted! Could be me! Could be you!”

The crowd — about a hundred strong — is split. Half raise their hands and point toward the stage, pantomiming the movies of the fanny pack clad duo. Others stand dumbfounded, their arms crossed tightly against their chest.

“You crop dusted! Now you’re busted!”

If the divisive response phases Koo Koo at all, they don’t show it. From the small stage the duo play the dumb jokes straight, parading around like the Beastie Boys for preteens. The next song starts (All I Eat Is Pizza!) with a simple computer beat. There are large props. I can’t say the performance is exactly to my tastes. But I also can’t say it’s boring.

“We might not be your cup of tea, but we really want to be something that's, like, the most unique type of show you've ever seen. As long as we go as hard as we can and you see the commitment from us on stage, we’re doing our job,” said singer Neil Olstad, one half of the band. “Even when we’re talking about the jaded people with crossed arms and stuff, even if I can't see them having fun hopefully they’re thinking -- oh, I've never seen anything like that before. We still might have intrigued them a different way, even if they weren't willing to dance about dinosaurs or whatever.”

Over the course of the last four days Koo Koo have been the hosts of Frank Turner’s Lost Evenings Festival in Toronto. The idea of two kids' entertainers - a band making music for literal children - mixing with the graying punks and folk enthusiasts of Turner’s hardcore fan base seems like an odd fit. But for more than a decade the singer/songwriter has been championing the group. That support, coupled with some well timed dance videos, and a lot of time playing shows has steadily helped grow millions of views across YouTube and a pretty rabid online following. Even if that following is mostly too young to pack their own lunch.

Koo Koo didn’t set out to write kid’s music. The band began around 2004 at Saint Mary's University of Minnesota. Both Bryan Atchison and Neil Olstad had played in a handful of indie rock outfits, but found themselves frustrated by the limitations of the genre and a seeming inability to break through hundreds of other groups that sounded that same. Wanting to do something different for the school’s battle of the bands, they began to brainstorm a work as a duo.

“We wanted to show that was all about participation, because we felt like shows that we were going to were kind of boring,” said Olstad. “We were into groups like The Flaming Lips. The Lonely Island and Flight of the Conchords were getting bigger. We enjoyed comedy and had just started making music on the computer, realizing that we didn’t need to be chained to these instruments we’d learned during live shows. So we started to think about what would happen if we put all those things together.”

The show that night got a reaction unlike anything else they’d been a part of.

“It was a huge switch. We're not in a traditional rock band anymore, so anything is possible,” said Bryan Atchison, Koo Koo’s other half. “We're gonna climb on the seats and walk up the aisles. We can change lyrics. There can be props. Crowd dances. There was this desire to push the idea of what a band could be but beyond that it was all just so incredibly fun. This is fun, because we can think of all these different ways to be in a band.”

The momentum from the battle of the bands was enough to propel things forward. Koo Koo (billed as Koo Koo Kanga Roo) at the time launched into a barrage of touring, building word of mouth on the back of an epic and interactive live show. Second hand descriptions by punk rock’s preeminent music critic Dan Ozzi called the group “kid’s music for adults” and “the greatest band in the whole world.”

Still, there are certain glass ceilings that happen when making any sort of outsider art. Koo Koo found a certain level of success, but were limited by the scope of their tunes. Was there a way to transfer the energy and success of the live show to a bigger audience? Or had the bulk of their twenties spent playing in a band just run its course?

In an effort to reach more people — and create a kind of “how to” for the simple dance moves the band encouraged the audience to perform during gigs — the duo uploaded a number of choreography videos for YouTube. In a somewhat unexpected turn of events, they were a big hit with teachers. Suddenly the kid’s music for adults was feeling more like kid’s music for kids. Recognizing the potential and getting booked more and more as a family act, Koo Koo decided to steer into the swerve.

“We recognized that the videos were getting big in the world. So big that it would have been dumb not to embrace it. We started thinking of ourselves as an actual kids band, but not much changed from what we were doing,” said Olstad. “We were clean as a gimmick from the start. It helped us differentiate from all the other IPOD bands at the time.”

“Singing about dinosaurs was actually more interesting than being another band singing about getting drunk or break ups,” added Atchison. “The fact that you could also do this for kids was a bonus. And sometimes the kids were more willing to participate.”

Nowadays the band has been trying to parlay the kid’s entertainment into a TV show. Season One of Oh Yeah, Heck Yeah premiered earlier this year on YouTube. If the live show gives off Beastie Boys for children, the YouTube program is Tim and Eric for pre teens. Each 11-minute episode is a series of off kilter sketches over weirdo graphics and green screens. Fan talk segments into literal fans. Air guitar behind a burning forest. Surfing with imaginary dolphins. Each episode has racked up hundreds of thousands of views. Tone wise it’s about as far from Ms. Rachel as I can imagine, but it’s been a successful formula while still feeling entirely like the band.

“Oh Yeah, Heck Yeah is a variety show where there's one new song and video in every episode, but then it's also bookended by other sketches that don't have music in them,” said Atchison. “And flexing those muscles is something that’s been entirely refreshing. It kind of reminds me of when we started the band. There are all of these ideas about what a kid’s show is supposed to be and how it’s supposed to look, but those rules aren’t set in stone anywhere. So what happens when we try and make something that really feels like the things we love? And how can we translate what’s good about the live show into another medium?”

During the time of this article the duo are penning a second season and open to offers from streamers (You can reach them via their socials.)

— By the time the third song hit in the casino lobby, a dozen people rushed for the stage while another dozen slinked toward the door. Koo Koo continued on with a second wave of energy, playing long into the night.

“Pick up your foot and stomp it, stomp it!”

From the back of the room, my arms folded tightly across my chest, I found my foot tapping.