Live Review: Hikashu, Sex On Toast

Keen punters line up in single file listening to muffled guitars behind the closed door and freaking out that Hikashu's set may have already kicked off. After being told that it's just a sound check, a few dash downstairs for another quick beer while others stay close to the door listening to the Japanese legends warming up.

Contrary to their usual performance vibe, there are no tightly rehearsed, lush harmonies, choreographed dance routines or sultry vocals in store from Sex On Toast tonight. Frontman Angus Leslie stands with his back to the audience conducting the group, weaving in and out of ridiculous tempo changes and one melodic rollercoaster after another. There's a tender little keys solo intertwined with sounds of insane laughter, clashing chord progressions, intense drum thrashing and brief, unexpected silences to add to the madness. Soon it's into a comparatively organised piece, until Leslie brings it back once more into a frenzy of high-pitched screeching, delving deeper into an intensely loud and freeing tumble of sound. It's humorous and entertaining to watch as there's literally no expectation — visually or audibly. Everything is left to the imagination and there's no telling what'll be next. The organised chaos always ends up in a delicious funk improv, which is then derailed onto a path of total unpredictability once more. It's an oddly satisfying feeling — never knowing what's coming next. A tight guitar break carries us through to a blur of erratic strumming, only to be broken by a hilarious spoken word about something to do with what sounds like "weeping into the sea" and "sheep's bleating" accompanied by a vocal demonstration of sheep noises. At this point punters are in laughing fits as Leslie says, "Okay, okay, let's do something happy." And after one luscious chord, they finish on: "Yeah that's it!"

After a passionate spiel about Hikashu's history (which ends with "they make you feeling fucking alive!"), the set begins slowly with some staggered sax and bass-heavy drums that swell into a tangle of delicious jazz chords, forming a super-tight base for the band to solo freely on top of. Hikashu wind in and out of an array of tones and textures, major keys resolved with a minor and flawless tempo shifts that change in the blink of an eye, all before swerving erratically into a straight four-four groove, embellished with screaming and drumming that's so heavy you'd be forgiven for thinking the kit would spontaneously combust.

These guys have been active since 1977, and it shows. They are essentially able to completely pre-empt every single musical move each musician will make even before it takes place. This is, without a doubt, a skill that only comes with years and years of playing together, and these guys are a true testament to the benefits of longevity. "I come from outside Tokyo," Koichi Makigami says quietly. His banter is soft and humble throughout the entire gig - a stark contrast to his wailing vocals and theremin playing.

A startling drum beat alternates with rounds of silence and soon after the melody is flung among growling vocals accompanied by the other raucous instruments. Everything Hikashu do is so wonderfully weird and shocking that a little laughter erupts in the crowd. The intensity is off the charts. It's hard to even know when a song is at its true end. Dramatic silences are broken with "shhh" repeated over and over. Bass guitar-heavy tracks melt into more structured pieces only to feature a shrieking guitar that howls over the entirety of the track, which then breaks into silence once more just to do it all over again. For a while, they just make noises with their voices as punters lose it and then it's right into the most wildly warped take on a four-chord jam you could ever imagine.

Hikashu bring their set to a close with some ground-shaking guitar solos, grainy vocals, rubber chicken (squeaky toy) sounds and some deliciously dissonant melodies that lead into a supercharged drum solo with cymbal bashing so loud our ears start to ring. The band join in for one more deranged jam that spirals into a fog of blaring keys and bass that literally makes your whole body pulsate.

Finally, both Sex On Toast and Hikashu share the stage as ''Hikashex No Tust', for a quick set that's full to the brim with screaming, roaring guitars, both electronic and acoustic drums, keys, theremin, bass, trumpet and rubber chicken for good measure. It is pure, audible insanity. Cacophony is almost too delicate a word to use. As the night draws to its inevitable close, the room fills with such a dense sound that there's not even a single space of silence left to fill (even by a rubber chicken).