Melt-Banana: 3+5

Melt-Banana have been the auxiliary act to anything great that has risen from the underground. In no way is this intended to be a slight; equally proficient and chaotic, the Tokyo noise-niks are so indefinable that they exist outside every parameter imaginable.

The band have spent a career inducing the kind of cerebral befuddlement that leaves indelible marks. From frazzled guitars likened to being guided through a mil saw and percussion that feels more tailored for metal festivals as opposed to flee riddled basements, in all their noise-punk glory, Melt-Banana are, indeed, true one-offs.

Their absurd juxtapositions have birthed the kind of feverish following most other bands can only dream of, and while the tunes have always held up, it’s the feeling of engaging in the Melt-Banana sound world that conquers all. That sensation when faced with their blistering live performance, which is the fundamental aspect of Melt Banana. It’s also why they haven’t released as many albums as you’d think considering their status as a band for over thirty years.

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Their eighth release, 3+5 follows the excellent 2013 LP, Fetch. The second album that sees Melt-Banana operating as a two-piece led by vocalist Yaku Onuki and guitarist Ichiro Agata, 3+5 frames the chaos of the band’s frenetic live show better than other of the band’s releases.

It’s evident from opening track, Code, as the duo launch into a twisted noise-rock hybrid that sounds like the fast-forward button has been slammed down. Yaku’s high-octane squeaks and squalls riding against Agata’s sheets of white noise, tapping into the kind of euphoria only Melt-Banana can produce.

So good, one fears that the album peaks too soon, but for a band that hasn’t delivered new music in over a decade, it’s only a fleeting thought. Puzzle and Case are like a one-two combo that forms the imagery of weekend video game arcade takeover. The guilty parties? Acid-mangled techno heads going head-to-head with leather-clad hair metal fans. The results leaving shrapnel ricocheting from wall-to-wall.

Scar and Flipside offer similar results, as Agata flails his guitar like a chainsaw through the masses. As Yaku’s vocals weave in and out of the chaos, it’s the volcanic eruption one would expect, and the remainder 3+5 is like wading through wreckage of it. Hex starts with the kind of Bob Weston-inspired bass lines that are ingrained in the mind of any noise-rock fan. Not ones for pastiche, however, Melt-Banana don’t hang about, quickly rifling through the song the only way they know how: fast and loud.

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And speaking of, Whisper is Melt-Banana in beast mode, as thunderous drums bounce around the mind like a pinball. Then there’s the emphatic closing track, Seeds. Sonic fairy dust, in all its kick-drum glory and machine-gun clatter, it’s a song that should conclude all punk albums.

It’s a welcomed return. Of course it is, but not just because of how good 3+5 is. The sense of time with 3+5 is its most revealing facet. With the cranial overload that this new world offers with every passing second, 3+5 feels like the perfect soundtrack to it. That’s why Melt-Banana’s return in the new music sphere makes the perfect sense.

3+5 is out via A-ZAP Records. Purchase here.