Midori

Midori sounds like a cocktail lounge being systematically dismantled by a riot squad. At the center is Mariko Goto, whose vocal performance swings violently between a delicate, breathy whisper and a primal, throat-shredding shriek. The backing band provides a relentless, polyrhythmic foundation that feels like it’s constantly on the verge of total collapse, yet remains anchored by terrifyingly precise jazz musicianship.

What truly sets them apart is the juxtaposition of the 'shoujo' (schoolgirl) aesthetic with genuine, unsimulated aggression. It is not just 'noise'; it is a sophisticated deconstruction of J-pop and jazz standards through the lens of Osaka's legendary underground punk scene. The piano isn't just an accompaniment; it's a lead weapon, played with a percussive intensity that rivals the drum kit.

Start with the album 'Aratamemashite, Hajimemashite, Midori Desu.' It captures the band at their most potent, blending melodic hooks with the kind of sonic violence that makes your speakers feel like they're sweating. It is essential listening for anyone who thinks they've heard everything 'punk' has to offer.