A small crowd turned up at the Bluebird on Monday for the big sound of Japan’s Melt Banana.

For the first 25 minutes of their set at the Bluebird Theater Monday night, Melt Banana blasted the crowd with a melange of noise and darkness — pierced only by the members’ head-mounted lights — that felt like my imagination of shock therapy, without the benefit of that thick piece of rubber they shove in your mouth to keep you from biting through your tongue. Never have I been so impressed by the venue’s sound system, nor have I ever felt the need to don earplugs so badly.

And yet I, along with the smallish, half-capacity (at best) crowd, loved every ear drum piercing minute of it. So much so that when the four piece settled into more accessible, 30- to 90-second pieces with recognizable rhythms and chords for the remainder of their set, we all seemed to miss the cacophony.

And this is exactly what the legend of live Melt Banana has always promised: pure adrenaline through amplifiers, over-saturated and synth-drenched guitar, supersonic speed drumming, hi-pitched, nearly unrecognizable vocals and endless feedback. Well, that and a glimpse into Japanese punk rock culture that leaves an impression of sweetness so realistic that you feel you need to scrub around your mouth to remove the hard candy fused to your lips.

The band, fronted by a constantly screeching (and undeniably sexy) Yasuko Onuki, included guitarist Agata, bassist Rika and a touring drummer, played a 55-minute set of livid noise-punk at a volume that seemed at times to threaten the foundation of the venue, and never stopped for more than 25 seconds between songs. Attempting to list titles would be ridiculous — the way they threw out noise made it seem that every show is a new adventure (after their set, when a fan asked for a playlist, a few of us were surprised to see the drummer peel one off a cymbal stand and hand it to him), and that’s exactly the type of show I’d come to see.

Besides, the audience crammed up to the stage in front didn’t seem to care, as arms and heads were flailing constantly, threatening to collide many, many times — though I’m not sure their owners would have noticed.

Onuki was quite personable between songs, for the few seconds she had. Commenting on the current frigid temperatures, or announcing indecipherable song titles from time to time, she seemed as common as anyone else. Then, once the feedback set in, her screaming energy took hold and released a different person altogether. For a few minutes, the barely controlled chaos brought to mind a visit to the dentist with a Black Sabbath-at-78RPM soundtrack being blared over office speakers, while the sound of your teeth being drilled was being piped directly into your private earbuds.

And that kind of treatment is exactly what Melt Banana’s fans expect. After all, there’s nothing quite like the feeling of having your brainpan sonically cleansed, and as far as I know, no other band does it quite as well.

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Billy Thieme is a Denver-based writer, an old-school punk and a huge follower of Denver’s vibrant local music scene. Follow Billy’s explorations at DenverThread.com, and his giglist at Gigbot.