Melt Banana @ Thekla, Bristol. 10th October 2001

I've seen this band four or five times since this was written but this was my first Melt Banana show and, as with any mind-altering experience, the first time was the best. They remain - without a doubt - one of the greatest bands on the planet.


















Incomparable Japanese techno-punks MELT BANANA return to Bristol on their second European tour and radically rewire the brain of our correspondent.

Wearing a surgeon's mask and wielding a Gibson SG, Ichiro Agata somehow creates a sound that recalls the techno-war of Operation Desert Storm as seen on CNN, but with R-Type Laser Cannons instead of Scud Missiles. He throws himself recklessly about the stage, turning his guitar over and over, collecting and harnessing feedback and then blasting it in surgical strikes at a largely unsuspecting audience. This is not normal.

Bass player Rika clearly isn't normal either. Throughout her bands' unforgettable set of blistering art-punk, she riffs away at a pace usually reserved for only the most hardcore of Hardcore bands but despite the violence of the music and contrary to all Punk tradition, she looks utterly placid, hypnotised even. It crosses my mind that she may actually be one of those emotionally detached psychopaths who can commit acts of staggering brutality without breaking into a sweat: heart-rate unchanging, almost unaware that she is morally responsible for such savagery. Maybe she's just fucking cool. Yes, that's it!

That's it exactly. Melt Banana are one of the coolest bands I've ever seen. Their drummer, Sudoh, approaches Gabba Techno in terms of speed and brutality and loops of disorientating noise add weight to the future Hardcore shock of the music. If there is one thing that lets the gig down it's The Thekla's ever-disappointing PA system which means we can hardly hear Yako (formerly Yasuko), the tiny, intense singer with that shrieking weapon of a voice. Though this is unfortunate, the lack of actual sound coming from her is made up for by her mesmerising stage presence which alternates between utter composure in the instrumental bits and epileptic shaking every time she opens her mouth. Yako rants maniacally and incomprehensibly at the audience, possibly in Japanese, possibly in English and possibly in a language all of her own. At one point she announces their "cover version for the evening", then sings a traditional Italian song for a bit before the band bury it mercilessly under layers of stop/start noise and primal yelling.

An impressive audience has shown up for this gig, presumably swelled by the band's recent radio session for John Peel. A large proportion of the crowd are visibly open-mouthed and a frantic mosh pit grows throughout the set. There are also a few people with digits held strategically close to ears, just in case they are required to prevent serious injury. There are also a few dissenters grumbling around the bar area, but what else can you expect at a gig like this? No pissed off purists and confused chin strokers at all would have been an insult to a band this purely, primally exciting.

By the first encore I resolve to go out immediately and buy all their records. By the second encore I decide I wanted them to shack up with me in Bedminster and never leave my side. I await Melt Banana's return to Bristol with a longing comparable to that of an army bride praying for the safe return of her brave Tommy. Next time can someone please sort them out a sound system that does them justice?

Originally published in Choke, Issue 3