Originally, I had intended to take my son to see Melt Banana, but circumstances changed and Emma found herself thrown headfirst into one of the strangest musical experiences imaginable.
It was certainly a memorable early date.
Whether she knew what she was letting herself in for is another question entirely.
The support band were called Dr VZX, which sounds suspiciously like a vaccination programme but looked and sounded like nothing of the sort. Their appearance was as original as their music and they immediately set the tone for an evening that was never going to be remotely normal.
If you’re the sort of person who likes your gigs predictable, this was not the place to be.
I’ve always had a soft spot for bands that completely ignore convention and do their own thing, and Melt-Banana have spent their entire career doing exactly that. Trying to describe their music to somebody who has never heard them is almost impossible. Punk, noise, metal, pop and pure chaos all seem to collide together at incredible speed.
The result is either exhilarating or terrifying depending on your disposition.
Possibly both.
One thing that immediately caught my attention was the guitarist. He performs wearing a face mask and throughout the entire set it appeared to be fighting for survival. As he played, the mask pulsed in and out with every breath, giving the impression that he was either struggling for air or secretly operating some form of experimental life-support system.
Either way, it was fascinating to watch.
The only slight frustration for me was that the vocals sat very low in the mix.
Normally that would annoy me more than it did, but Melt-Banana’s singer possesses a vocal style that occasionally ventures into territory that some might describe as Yoko Ono-esque. Depending on your point of view, having the vocals buried slightly beneath the sonic mayhem may actually have been a blessing.
The crowd certainly didn’t seem bothered.
The sheer intensity of the performance swept everything along with it. Songs arrived at breakneck speed, riffs flew past in every direction and the whole thing felt less like a concert and more like being trapped inside somebody else’s fever dream.
In the best possible way.
By the end of the evening, Emma looked as though her brain had been completely rewired.
I couldn’t really blame her.
This was not the sort of gig that you casually stroll away from unchanged. She genuinely needed a lie down afterwards to process what had just happened.
If you watch the videos below, there’s a reasonable chance your brain wiring may also require some attention.
Mine, thankfully, was burnt out a long time ago.
Which probably explains why I enjoyed it so much.
The Photos
Cheers!
Donate
