Photo: Richard Gray
As the heaving (and it really is heaving – it’s rare for the Hoxton Bar & Kitchen to be this packed on a Tuesday night) crowd eagerly watch Bo Ningen take care of some last minute tuning, Flaming Lips tracks are played overhead; an apt introduction a band as trippy and other-worldly as this.
And suddenly they are upon us: frontman and bassist Taigen Kawabe – and his frankly, enviable tresses – shrugs off his shaman-like hooded robe and softly tells us the band are happy to be playing in London. What comes next is less “soft” and more a ferocious assault on the senses, from all angles.
Kawabe yelps, shrieks, whispers, hisses and soars over tracks laden with unexpected rhythm changes and frantic break-neck riffs. He is flanked by guitarists Yuki Tsuji and Kohhei Matsuda, who - despite their impressive musicianship - remain ghostly and silent, anchoring the audience down as the head-crushing tide of noise rushes over us. Although it’s sometimes hard to distinguish particular tracks - 'Slider' and 'DaDaDa' feel the most structured, reminiscent of an early Rapture.
We’re also treated to a few songs Kawabe says, breathlessly in a whisper, they’ve never played live before; one of which is the best thing we hear all night. At times the boys veer towards prog-pastiche, teetering on the brink of just a heavy hair-rock jam sesh: for all the mod-cons there are plenty of nods to the 1970s. But their visual presence drags it back into the realms of the extraordinary, as well as Kawabe’s avant garde shape-shifting performance.
Sometimes in a trance gazing into the middle-distance, sometimes punk and playful, gurning and Wilco Johnson-wide-eyed, sometimes delicately gesturing with his hands, a la Kate Bush, bird-like and beautiful, Kawabe guides us through the apocalypse, raining all around.
