Fat-free, low sodium, lite beer. All are designations that suggest inferiority. 

Placed in front of a drink or foodstuff, we're led to believe that a healthier alternative even exists, when in fact there's no such thing as a brownie that's good for you. Look, no one really wants, much less craves, baked potato chips. We eat them only because market researchers have tricked us into thinking they're better for us. Put simply, "sugar-free" is merely a euphemism for "not as good."

Such was my thinking going to hear Melt Banana — and most especially its newest incarnation, Melt Banana Lite — at New Brookland Tavern on Wednesday. And suffice it to say, I couldn't have been more wrong.

A longtime MxBx fan, alas, I was hard at work on an English paper the last time the band blitzed through town (circa 2002 at the sorely missed Uncle Doctor's). So granted, I have no basis to compare the shows of Melt Banana now and Melt Banana then. But just like that comparison and contrast paper I was writing almost a decade ago, more than 200 punks, hipsters and scene kids showed up to see just how well this band's notorious noise would transfer from guitar to synthesizer.

And at the end of the night, the score was a lopsided as a Gamecock football match: Synths 38, Guitars 3.

Taking the nearly pitch-black stage with nothing but spelunking helmets to light the band's way, it was clear from the get-go that Ichirou Agata didn't miss his axe. Clad in his trademark surgical mask with an impressive array of one-of-kind noisemakers and custom-built effects pedals, the enormous, unrelenting din he conjured forth no doubt tortured those dumb enough to huddle in the front row. Not to be outdone, at stage right, Yasuko Onuki stayed busy herself making an incredibly uncomfortable bed of harsh feedback and severely overdriven vocals.

Overall, the atmosphere was so dense and so chaotic that it took me nearly five or six minutes before I noticed a lacking in the low end. Navigating precariously through both the darkness and the burgeoning mosh pit — thanks to the band's able tour drummer — adorably tiny bassist Rika Hamamoto was nowhere to be found. Given the ceaseless barrage of mostly middle and high frequencies, her presence wasn't as much missed by my ears as it was felt sharply right in my gut. That such a nasty, impenetrable clamor could be summoned by only three persons though confounds me still.

Without warning, the lights came up, the sweet, sweet noise was gone and Melt Banana Lite was no more. And that's really quite a shame. 

Ironically enough, in their low-carb format, Melt Banana can cling, clang and hang with Japan's noisiest bands: Zeni Geva, Acid Mothers, Fushitsusha, hell even Boredoms. As regular ol' Melt Banana however, they're little more than a hardcore fetish act. Virtually indistinguishable from the myriad grindcore bands that call New Brookland home nowadays, the original, guitar-wielding Melt Banana failed to do, make, say or even think anything on par with Melt Banana Lite the rest of the evening. In short, it was a typical Wednesday night of underwhelming, overrated whatever-core on State Street.

Writing specifically on the Japanese noise scene in his Noise/Music: A History, author Paul Hegarty claims, "Noise performance is not a self-contained style, but has to be consumed in relation to other approaches." So disgusted was I by the back side of the MxBx duality, immediately following the show, I drove over to Wendy's and ordered a Diet Coke and a grilled chicken sandwich ... without the bun.     

Melt Banana at New Brookland Tavern (Columbia, SC) - 11/18/09