Melt-Banana
3+5
A-ZAP Records
We’re over a generation into The Era of Melt-Banana. 30-plus years in, it’s safe to say there’s a significant segment of fanbase who, at its inception, were yet-to-be-born. These fans are better adapted to handle both the immense and nuanced fluctuations of sound being transmitted. And maybe Melt-Banana’s longtime fans are better equipped as well.
Along with the likes of The Boredoms and Atari Teenage Riot, Melt-Banana landed like a meteor on a completely unprepared music scene. Ill-suited genres and labels such as “noise rock” slid from their scales as they continued to evolve, progress, and grow, while seeding a dedicated and transgressive fanbase that they’ve dragged into a future of music not yet accurately classifiable.
It could be hard to say whether Melt-Banana has softened jagged edges with the passage of time, or if our circumstance has bent to match the seeming chaos of their music. (Hint-Hint: It’s the latter.) Melt-Banana has always and openly taken a lot of inspiration from tech and video games. And, like a snake eating itself, it’s a good bet that the influence of Melt-Banana has provided sympathetic feedback back into our globe-machine’s programming.
Yasuko Onuki and Ichiro Agata have surpassed and outgrown many of the contemporaries, producers and former collaborators. Creative output has mutated into a form of instinctive “twin-speak,” and 3+5 is Melt-Banana honed down to a shiny purity of its liquid core. From the preamble, “Code,” to its apex finisher, “Seeds,” this is a raw and refined 24-minute operatic powerhouse, and it’s likely our ears and minds have finally melted and mutated enough to meet it more than halfway.
