Just like regular music, only free.

You have to feel sorry for bands who end their tours in Tokyo. After riotous trips around the parts of the country where a good gig is still considered something of an event, for the finale they have to make do with a room half-full of punters whose inertia suggests they're too busy thinking about what to have for breakfast the next day to notice the music.

First of all, Roi Schaider is cool. Make no mistake. Singer and guitarist Sakura comes in from dinner with his fedora tilted back to hold his sunglasses. He introduces me to his guitarist, Hashi, also wearing a cool hat. Must be a band requirement. As we sit sipping a cold one around 8:30 at Decadent Deluxe, discussing the health benefits of an early morning stroll along side Nakagawa River, Hide, the bass player saunters up wearing his tan Kangol, perfect retro to accompany his standup bass. I feel a little under-cool - then I remember my afro and breathe a little easier.

You'd be forgiven for thinking that this site has turned into a bit of a Tenniscoats fairground, and I'm afraid it's only going to get worse as Japan's foremost avant-pops duo continue their most prolific spell to date. We've already had the release of Takashi's Sui-Gin album, followed by their most avant-garde creation yet, Moere. Yet to come this summer is their collaboration with Secai, released on August 8th (we've got a copy here, and it's luverly!), an album featuring Saya and Satomi from Deerhoof (collectively known as OneOne) and a collaboration with Scottish legends, The Pastels. It's going to be an expensive few months, so you better start saving.

An hour before TsuShiMaMiRe are due onstage, I'm stood near the bar of Fukuoka's Voodoo Lounge watching an atrocious performance by a shoe-gazing outfit whose name I won't mention (for their own good). I'm busy trying to fit myself with an extra pair of earplugs, when a foreigner steps up and shyly introduces himself. I know he can't live locally, because local gaijin rarely speak to each other at gigs like this. True enough, he's over on holiday from San Francisco, and he's traveled all the way to Fukuoka especially for this gig. I apologize for the onstage atrocities and offer to introduce him to TsuShiMaMire. Having seen them in a much larger, much more crowded setting back in 'Cisco, he can't believe his luck.

About 80 people packed into Shibuya's O-Nest on Friday night to enjoy the latest in the ongoing adventures of Saya and Takashi Ueno, AKA Tenniscoats. Supported by a mixed bag of similarly-minded groups, the pair finally took to the stage with the kind of accidentalism that makes their albums such an intimate experience. Professionalism is obviously no concern of theirs; the mostly seated audience were treated to a largely improvised set, feeling more like friends at an impromptu Ueno party than paying punters at one of Tokyo's better known live houses.

It wasn't just the two kids who pushed their way to the front of the audience and stood holding hands with eyes like saucers that were intrigued by the twosome onstage. The two Jons, here known as The Grizzly Folk (one of them on loan from Decentred), appeared quietly following a set that was anything but, and achieved a kind of reverse polarity alien to most bands, as other bands' fans drifted back to the audience.

Taking advantage of a long weekend, Kyushu-based Nanbanjin, accompanied by a motley crew of roadies and friends, played a double-header of Osaka indie venues on February 9th and 10th, at Goith and Club Vijon. Coming from furthest away, living up to their name of Southern invaders, they occupied the prestigious second-from-last spot on both bills, when the crowds are warmed up but not yet unconscious from alcohol.

An interesting addition to a recent Zecho Ten lineup was the Nagasaki-based electronic musician, Nuggs. Looking every inch the salaryman on a weekend break - he had his kindergarten-age children videoing the smokey event while his newborn lay sleeping in a pram by the bar - it wasn't until he actually took the stage that anyone other than the promoter realized he was there to make music.

Roi Schaider are so stripped down they verge on skiffle. With their limited musicianship on overdrive, they manage to fill a full set with short and snappy numbers; homemade singalongs that represent great value for the 4 or 5 chords the band admits to knowing.