To my left a man held his hands in the air, tent revival-style, and shouted, "Thank you!" To my right, a man held his middle finger in the air and shouted "Fuck you!" Different nervous systems will react to the overwhelming intensity of the Boredoms in different ways.

The Boredoms don't play music, they play your head. Their tools are the technologies and conventions of popular music, used instead to perform brain surgery. They wield with precision the mundane array of three drum sets and a couple of keyboards to cut ecstatic waves in the air.

It's not chaos, not noise: It's all mastery and concentration. They'll work a high-speed interlocking tribal beat for 19.56 minutes, then stop on a dime and restart. Eye plays ascending swirls of augmented keyboard chords as if he's the horn section for some jazz band that's not there. After ten minutes, you start to hear the jazz band. That's not there. You start to hear a lot of things. That aren't there. Are they?