MELT BANANA @ PLUG, Sheffield – 25th October 2010

Review by – Metzli

Turning up at the PLUG, Sheffield was oddly reminiscent of going out on a Thursday night for a University event. Only replace the teeming bar with hardly anyone, the bright colourful lights with a heavy gloom and the annoying chart music with a quiet background of some band that seem angry with their dads. I’ve got to say, my hopes were not that high.
This feeling of ‘why did I get talked into this’ was only increased during the first support band. They were loud, jumpy and the guitarist flicked his hair so much you would have easily mistaken him for an L’Oreal advert stuck on repeat. Though a few people (myself included) had taken to standing in front of the stage and bopping our heads in some form of moral support, there was a glaring two metre ‘do not wish to be associated’ gap in front of the stage and despite the claps after each song, no body seemed to care that much.
The brief interlude was slow and tedious, made bearable by managing to convince a travelling American metal head of intimidating stature that one of my Japanese companions was actually a member of the band, and then watch snickering from afar at Hide’s bewildered expression to having this poster waved in his face and a pen practically forced into his hand.
The second band were a little more impressive, though if you asked me their name I would only look at you blankly, before pointing to an imaginary Elvis behind you and running for the hills in your distraction. The lead singer was an arrogant piece of misunderstood generic angst, but he reacted with the crowd well , forcing us to close the gap between the stage and then standing on the edge of it so that everyone in the front row was treated to a face full of his crotch. I was one of these lucky individuals.
As this support band drew to a close, I was pleased to note that the crowd was at a far more acceptable level, crowding around the stage so tightly that they blocked off any potential escape.
By this stage I was three vodka and cokes in and feeling a little more excited about the show ahead of me.

When the lights cut out, I was getting ready to join the collective ‘boo’s of disappointment at a seeming power cut. But, to my surprise, came titters of excitement and anticipation.
Looking to the back corners of the modest stage, I saw why. Two shady figures strutted to the front of the stage, two figures that I recognised as vocalist Yasuko and Guitarist Ichirou Agata.
Yasuko, draped in a baggy white hoodie that made her form seem even more diminutive, stood at the front of the stage, limbs loose and chin held high. A flash of white and confusion. As the eyes adjust it becomes apparent that the light on stage comes from three blindingly white torches – one held under the hood of Yasuko’s hoodie, the other two on Agata, one in the hand and one on the head. Each member scans the crowd, white light illuminating the crowd of eager faces, staring with blinking enthusiasm. Then it begins.
I can say in all honesty that I know now how it feels to be a small boat being thrown relentlessly against the jagged rocks of shore. My world transformed from an apathetic spectator, to a world of disorientating noise and lights. I cannot even describe the noise that came from the stage except for a plethora of sounds; jet take offs, sirens, explosions and the angry blips of experimental electronica.
Though what started as a clear and distinguishable pattern soon lost all sense of rhythm and became a frenzy of unadulterated noise and flailing limbs. Caught in the maelstrom, drowning in a euphoric tide of bodies and lights.
As this otherworldly experience drew to a close, already splashed with sweat that was not my own, what I had thought to be the set was in fact a generous introduction.
As bassist Rika Hanamoto in her impressive platforms joins them on stage, the lights are lifted to reveal a tightly packed crowd of shining, smiling faces.
I could give you the list of songs in the order that they played them. Having gone to the sound co-ordinator at the end of the show and specifically picking up a copy of the set list for just this occasion. But looking at it now, I do not see the point.
Giving the organised list would provide the reader with a sense of structure. And let’s be honest. Structured was definitely not how I would describe Melt Banana and I feel in doing so would ruin their charm completely. Listing songs by title would give the impression that I knew each and everyone as it came on. I didn’t. I hadn’t a clue before this night and I want this review to remain from the perspective of someone discovering Melt Banana for the first time to encourage all you other young’uns out there to go out and discover them for yourselves!
The set was generous with a wide variety of songs which transformed the venue from a place where people shied away from the stage, to those in the front row being literally bent over the stage like a cheap whore, a tangle of thrashing limbs bearing down over them, jumping and roaring to the call of the rhythm on the stage.
All were treated to a succession of 9 short songs (adequately named as most lasted a few seconds) and a variable buffet of on stage off stage banter that provided windows of healing laughter between the all in all ass kicking that the set delivered.

Having never heard a Melt Banana song before and having attended only due to a brow beating from Japanese friends, I have got to say, my whole opinion of Melt Banana has changed. Whilst I still hold firm to the opinion that they really are a band you have to see live, rather than on CD, to fully appreciate – they opened my eyes to a whole other realm of potential music and chalked up yet another thoroughly enjoyed life experience. And as a physical momento of the nights festivities, I came away with bruises far larger than a gig that size should have warranted!