They almost thought the show was about to fall apart. (“Brian is a wizard,” says O’Malley of his bandmate’s musical prowess.) In the Central Hotel in Dublin, the band reflect on the start of the gig. The whole thing is a triumph of atmosphere, brilliantly executed and slightly bizarre.Ī week later, a planned rehearsal near Celbridge is cancelled as Dillon is delirious with the flu. In the dome of the altar above the band, projections make painted angels glow to life, strobes flash, reverb echoes around the church, perspex erected around the drum kit preserves a crisp sound. A submarine sonar sound intermittently pings. The first song ends up having an unintended 18-minute introduction due to a technical fault the audience doesn’t notice, digesting it instead as a pensive, elongated and meditative exercise in musical tantra. Someone suggests a visual element for the sixth song on the set list: “Some kind of giant face or mask.” Conversations drift along about staging: “Let’s go absolutely insane, then black out for 45 seconds, and then we’re gone.” This, Byrne thinks, would be a “magician finish”.Īt the gig itself, audience members are given a brochure about the band and the show it is reminiscent of a match programme. “Leave the strobe to the last two songs,” McKenna says. “That has to be in your minds.” It is decided that “Feck Meltybrains” might be a more ecumenically acceptable choice. They’re discussing a sign for the gig that says “Fuck Meltybrains”, but the ecclesiastic setting is complicating that aesthetic choice. Then Byrne arrives to say the gig has actually sold out. Notebooks and pens are removed from pockets and bags. This is a Meltybrains? meeting, one of many. The concert is about to sell out, with five tickets being held back. Music video director Bob Gallagher is delayed by last-minute work on the latest Girl Band video. When we meet, the band and their sound engineer and visual collaborators (the incredibly talented Slipdraft) are discussing how their forthcoming gig in the Pepper Canister church in Dublin will work. The question mark at the end of their band name is well placed. Byrne, Brian Dillon, Ben 'Bix' McKenna, Donnacha O'Malley and Micheál Quinn are all classically trained musicians. And there's the band's image: all five members are usually styled in white and wear paint-splattered masks, something their fans replicate at gigs, creating a cultish, unsettling audience. Then there's the music itself, of course, difficult to categorise (unless 'experimental electronic post-rock' leaves you any wiser it probably won't). And recently they headed off to South By Southwest to impress the swarm in Austin, Texas. Then they played a sold-out bring-your-own-booze show in a church. They went on tour in the US in January 2014 by themselves just to see if they could go on tour with each other. They played 40 gigs in a year just to see if they could play live under various conditions. For the last four years, Meltybrains? have engaged in a succession of experiments. Tadhg Byrne from Meltybrains? is explaining the band's attitude during their genesis.

And then what if we all played wrong notes at the same time? Would that make a good thing? No, it probably wouldn’t.

Franz ferdinand band mask