I was accompanied for GDFAF #6 by Andy and Doug from Una Corda, a Birmingham based post-rock band the members of whom have been around the local scene for a while now. As we entered the Custard Factory in Digbeth they immediately started recognising people they knew. It was like a gathering of the tribes with a good chunk of the crowd in some kind of band or other – every conversation I overheard was along the lines of “where’re you playing next?” or detailed expositions on tortuous projects. This was, of course, a good sign. When the luminaries of Birmingham’s experimental music and intelligent rock society descend upon a gig you know you’ve chosen wisely. They hadn’t just come to see Melt Banana, they’d come to pay homage and to learn.

This was the first gig organised by Capsule that I’d attended. Capsule are easily the most interesting promoters in the Midlands at the moment, if not the country. Using the cushion of the Custard Factory arts complex they put numerous gigs of an experimental bent, often combining international artists with local talent, both audio and visual, to create Events rather than mere events. I’ve always wanted to go to one but had been put off by their relatively high prices (compared to the average small gig that is – they’re actually quite reasonable for what they do) and the fact that I’d often never heard of the people they’d booked. Their emails would come through like something from a delicious alien world full of wonder and confusion and it was about time I did the right thing and attended one of them.

As for the venue, the Medicine Bar is similarly impressive and nondescript. As a bar it’s quite lovely, all staircases and glass looking over the Custard Factory square with its fountain, while the actual venue is just a big room with a stage, perfect for moulding into whatever you want be it a gig, club night, art show or something indescribable. It also has the most daunting speakers I’ve ever seen, towering over the room like the intake vents on a jet plane. They’re also shockingly well placed above head level so the sound carries and doesn’t murder anyone standing in front of them.

But enough of all that. You want to hear about the bands. First up was Noise Noise Allore, a relatively new band made up of four long time members of various post-rock and metal bands but utterly different to that sort of stuff. Fronted by a short chap with a pencil mustache and white shirt and tie they evoked Devo with an element of Sparks. To a heavy speed-pop backing the singer sung in a high pitched yelpy staccato, jerking in a confused, nervous fashion punctuated by sly winks to the crowd. During the tracks he thrust the mike into the palm of his hand and held it out to the audience as if it were a dangerous thing. They were quite brilliant if very hard to describe but they’re playing more gigs in the area which I certainly intend to attend.

Next was Brian Duffy and The Modified Toy Orchestra consisting of five guys in suits making strange music with, as you’d expect, modified toys. If Kraftwerk look like robots this British version look like geography teachers crossed with spivs. I couldn’t get close enough to see properly but their equipment consisted of music-related toys that had either been altered to make different noises or were being fed through effects machines and a doll that had been converted into a satanic controller with small metal plungers protruding out of its head that when pressed triggered odd sounds. Duffy himself was very charismatic, which was something of a shock since I had Kraftwerk on my mind, and I found out later that the drummer (I suspect he was hitting something odd with his sticks) was Fuzz Townsend from PWEI and Bentley Rhythm Ace, which came as no fucking surprise whatsoever! Their set was very short but again they’re local chaps so will no doubt be playing again and I will be there, at the front, with my camera. Musically they combined the carnivalesque blips and bloops of the toys with a dark throbbing beat that was most refreshing. I like blippy electronica a lot but combined with this undulating bass it took on something quite new and special.

So the support was from two local bands of very high quality. This is what I wanted to see. Along with Distophia on Friday and The Klopeks on Monday I’m starting to build up a nice overview of the quality end of the Birmingham scene. I knew it was there – a band like Misty’s Big Adventure don’t emerge from a vacuum after all – but now I can put my finger on it and unlike most scenesters I’m not one to keep such information to myself, be sure of that.

The gig was pretty much sold out, as you’d expect for a band of this caliber and reputation, and lit with dark red lights, most annoying if you want to get any decent photos. Also a lot of these guys in bands are quite tall – I mean, I’m not exactly short but I was having more trouble than usual seeing the stage. So as the Toy Orchestra cleared away I went right up to the stage and stood there refusing to budge. I’m not usually so belligerent about being at the front but I had an inkling this was going to be one of those life changing gigs and I didn’t want to experience it with any visual impairment.

Melt Banana were fucking awesome.

Oh, you want more? Christ, where to begin. Well, we could start with the look, an androgynous lead singer in a scrappy hoodie that looked like it was adapted from a straightjacket, a guitarist with a protective mask duct-taped to his mouth, his hat pulled down right over his eyes, but that doesn’t really help. You might be familiar with the sound they produce from John Peel’s show, short speed-core metal songs with an incredibly high-pitched vocal screaming over the noise and yes, this was most impressive, especially as most speed-metal doesn’t really do much for me. The relentless rhythm, with drums and bass morphing into one beast, tore through the room as the utterly insane guitar created waves upon waves of beautiful discord. Sounds that seemed like they were coming from behind me popped out like distorted lions. The suddenness of their set takes your breath away as songs kick off without warning and yet still manages to build and build.

But what really made it was their presence. While the intensity of the music that came out of them seemed extraordinary it was also perfectly reasonable. They owned this stuff in the sense that you can own the weather. God, that sounds awful, but the final song illustrates it perfectly. As the music poured out, singer Yako stood rigid at the front, moving her eyes from side to side with the beat. By this time I’d moved to the back of the room but I could have been inches away. She had the whole room completely in her power having converted her ferocious voice into a stare. It was astonishing.

Thursday could be no different from tonight as I dive back into the world of unknown bands at low-low prices with the New Band Night at the Flapper organised by Zoot. Here’s hoping it’s better than Saturday was though if it is awful at least I’ll get an early night, or at least a chance to get down some of the post-GDFAF ideas that have been fermenting in my brain. On the plus side, the last Zoot night I went to when Plinth were playing had some good bands on so you never know, which is kinda the point of this exercise.

And so, as most of your alarm clocks are gearing up to go off, I’ll bid you farewell and get to my bed…