Wilfully perverse and possessing a logic entirely of their own, Melt Banana conform to every cultural stereotype the West has of Japan, a nation whose prime minister releases albums of Elvis covers.

Few bands could run through a greatest hits set in under four minutes, let alone have all 11 tracks greeted with a standing ovation.

Even the songs which didn't last a matter of seconds had the attention span of a three-year-old, briefly settling on a melody or a groove before veering off on ever wilder tangents, accelerating to an unholy velocity before collapsing into a screech of white noise.

They were enormous fun, even when you feared your eardrums were about to burst.

There was method to their madness - only the tighest of bands could handle so many time changes without collapsing into a shambling mess.

The bewildering array of noises masked guitarist Ichiro Agata managed to hammer out of his poor guitar somehow always complemeted Yasuko Onuki's clipped vocals.

They played their cover of Surfin' USA as one of the encores. Brian Wilson almost certainly wouldn't approve but everyone here certainly did.