I got a beer in my hand and a slim bottle of Zubrovka vodka stuffed in my back pocket for back-up, but all this rock 'n' roll partying business seems rather inappropriate right now.

Because at Koenji's 20,000V (a dirty dungeon of a live house quite a few floors underground) the punters are sitting cross-legged on the floor; not drinking or smoking, wearing spectacles and looking very serious. You know why? Because this is all about ART, man. So put that fag out, finish that drink, put on your specs, pull down your pants, grab some tissues and pay full attention.

Onstage are drummer Masahiro Uemura and bespectacled guitarists Taku Unami and Tsunoda, and they go by no collective name and rustle up noise reminiscent of best-forgotten Kraftwerk or Can cast-offs. At worst they sound like me in my bedroom, strumming on my guitar, which I can't play, while two large bricks bang about in my washing machine and my chick torments a budgerigar with a cheese-grater while banging her head against the wall, while at best they sound like Badly Drawn Boy being fed through a wood-chipper by squeaking aliens. Bang-chugga-screwhhhhhh . . .