"I'm going to be in tears before the end of all this. I just know it," says Heidy, fluttering her mascara-clad eyes.

But my first question to Heidy at a trendy basement cafe in Shimokitazawa was as straightforward as they come. And, in fact, it took just two seconds to ask. It was, "Er, how did the Deliciousweets start?" It took a whopping 90 minutes of nonstop chatter for the brainchild behind Deliciousweets to answer that first question. And, sure enough, her prophesy comes to pass. An hour later she's bawling like a burned baby; tears wreaking havoc on her heavy makeup.

First impressions aside, Heidy is no flake: Over the last few years Heidy has created the most glamorous show on Japan's live-house circuit, and she's done it virtually single-handedly.

Deliciousweets might perform at live houses, but they're not a "band" as such; they're a troupe of singers, dancers and musicians who, together, whip your asses back to the '60s and '70s, and provide an insight into how Japan pickpocketed Western pop culture and is now flogging it back to those American and European suckers under a banner some describe as "the culture of kawaii." Deliciousweets are this phenomenon at its mind-melting, heart-pumping zenith.

Heidy and her entourage of girls (she calls them "Charmers" and the regular members are Fukurou, Mako, Fochi, Barba, Izumi and Chimuni) sing, dance and perform hilarious skits while four guys (keyboardist Kanshun Ohsumi, guitarist F.E. Larno, bassist Kenji Bomber and drummer Obaran) provide the music. And despite several costume changes the action never stops -- at any time there's always at least one or two, and usually half a dozen, Charmers on stage to see you through each 30-minute show. The result is what sounds/looks like a bunch of Japanese Brigitte Bardot clones singing along to wacky soundtracks from Showa Era anime at a "Western Carnival" club event in Ginza 40 years back (ask Mum and Dad).

It's like French Pops gone mad, but Heidy has her own idea. "It's my own genre, and it's called 'Coquette Show,' " she says.

That makes sense, especially when the Deliciousweets girls flutter into the audience like brightly colored hummingbirds, surround some lucky gent, plant big sloppy smackers on his cheek, drag him onstage to be photographed with a Polaroid camera and then send the love-struck grinning soul back into the crowd floating on a cloud of blown kisses. Heaven or what?!

"The guys we pick out become members of a special club. They become 'Ecstacy People.' They've indulged fully in Deliciousweets. There's about 100 of them right now," explains Heidy.

But let's hit that rewind button. Heidy's sipping iced lemon tea and explaining how Deliciousweets came about. "I always wanted to be involved in a fantastic show. When I was a child I practiced rhythmic gymnastics but I failed the test for athletic school so instead I opted for fashion college," she says, eyelashes fluttering away.

"I hated studying, but I loved making '60s-style clothes. After graduating in March 1998 I worked at a fabric shop and had the pick of the fabrics. . . . Soon I had this huge stock of stuff I'd made and then one day someone suggested I do a fashion show. I'd been to one and it was interesting and the models threw candy around and I've kept a piece of this candy as a good-luck charm, but it's kind of half-melted now. . . .

"And I was thinking that these models with great figures walking down the catwalk are so boring. People aren't like that. They come in all shapes and sizes. So I decided to put on fun, exciting fashion shows, with models chosen for their charisma, and with models singing and dancing."

Fabulous idea, I'm sure we'd all agree, but not quite so easy to pull off. I mean, it's been scientifically proven that 92.5 percent of models are mirror-licking brainless dorks, so when Heidy asked them to wear her outrageous '60s cabaret costumes and dance they malfunctioned and gave her a "does not compute . . . does not compute" response.

"They just didn't get it at all and none of them wanted to come back and do another show with me," she says. "One model even said to me 'This outfit is disgusting. I'm not going to wear it.' I turned to her and said, 'Then don't wear it.' And I put the thing on myself and did the show. But I started getting depressed. I felt nobody appreciated what I was trying to do."

Things changed when Heidy struck up a friendship with Rogetsu, her next-door-neighbor in Shimokitazawa. They got off on the same music -- Showa stuff, Group Sounds, French pop, Hendrix -- and Rogetsu introduced her to a bunch of people including keyboardist Kanshun, who was to be the catalyst that kick-started Deliciousweets.

"I'm really stubborn and there was no way I was going to compromise my vision," says Heidy. "Then I did a show at Higashi-Koenji UFO Club four years ago, and suddenly everything clicked into place. Maybe I was more experienced and able to get my message across, but the models understood me. And also I'd met this new bunch of friends who totally got what I was doing. Kanshun then suggested I use live music at shows rather than the girls just dance to records. And Deliciousweets was born."

But a few minutes later Heidy is wiping away tears. "It had been an uphill struggle, but everything seemed to be going great. We had a band, and we were becoming more popular so we had to practice more. And then in June last year all the girls, apart from Fukurou, quit at about the same time. I had a fight with one, and the others left for various reasons."

Fukurou has accompanied her best pal Heidy to the interview today and explains: "They were doing it for fun, and that's part of what Deliciousweets is all about, but they also had other jobs and sometimes couldn't turn up for practice."

"I thought of quitting," says Heidy, dabbing her eyes. "All I'd worked for suddenly in tatters. Sorry about this, but I cry a lot."

"It was an emotional time, but I told her not to quit" says Fukurou. "So I advertised on our Web site for new members," says Heidy. "We had reached a satisfactory level of performance, but these new members took it higher. So now I have a bunch of girls who want to have fun and go crazy but also really want to be part of what I'm trying to achieve. Deliciousweets are not a snobbish band. We're not a cool band. We're a bunch of girls who simply want to have fun. And we take our fun seriously!"

"Deliciousweets has been great for me," says Fukurou. "I was an actress, but was feeling really down and depressed. And then I met Heidy. She was making outfits for the theater company I was in, and she told me to have fun, to enjoy the moment and be myself, and she asked me to join Deliciousweets. And it's been a cathartic experience. I love it, but I can't explain it. When I acted at the theater it was full of logical thinkers who had to debate whether the performances were good or not. Deliciousweets don't need to debate anything like that: We just know it's damn good and that's good enough for us. Why does a cake taste good? Because it is good. End of story. Enjoy it. That's what Deliciousweets is all about."

"Thank you. I love you," says Heidy, turning to Fukurou. "I love you too," is the response.

Hmmm, how very lovely. What the word "love" means is debatable (the logical thinkers can tear their hair out over it), but one thing is certain, if you check out Deliciousweets then you're going to enjoy a delightful lateral experience. And, I guess, you'll, err, love it.