B90 has a habit of turning an ordinary night into something wild, and this one did it fast. Sun Brutal Pop arrived like a ghost in white and tightened the whole room with her exciting music. Later Hanabie blasted the place open in a shock of colour and metal, and suddenly the evening was a jolt to the nervous system. Short, sharp, and unforgettable.
Some nights at B90 feel like someone has loosened the screws holding the world together. You walk in expecting a dose of volume, maybe a nice surprise or two, and instead you end up stepping into a pocket universe stitched together from distortion, sweat and a kind of joyous weirdness you don’t get anywhere else. This night belonged firmly in that category.
The room was still filling, soft voices bouncing around the concrete, when the lights shifted to a pale glow and Sun walked into it.
She stepped into the light in a long white dress that seemed to glow against the stage haze, as if she had wandered straight out of The Witcher and onto a modern stage by accident. The red boots were the only burst of colour, cutting hard against all that white and giving her silhouette a quiet, dangerous edge. The guitar in her hands completed the picture, not decoration, but a weapon carried by someone who looked both out of place and completely at home in the same breath.
Sun lifted one finger. A small gesture, then it began.
She carved through the opening track with precision: melodic lines held tight as a bowstring, heavy guitar crashing underneath, screams that came out controlled and razor-edged rather than theatrical. Every part of her appearance played against the sound the drifting veil, the ghostly dress, the dreamy posture, all clashing beautifully with the punch of the music.
Something was happening in B90.
Sun made a great impression and was surely one of the best support acts I have seen this year. It was powerful, intriguing and genuinely exciting. She absolutely deserves a comeback.
And then Hanabie stormed the stage.
The lights detonated into pastels. The stage flipped from spectral white to sugar-rush brightness in a heartbeat. And suddenly we were somewhere between Harajuku fever dream and metalcore riot, with the colours firing out like someone had smashed a rainbow against a concrete wall just to see what shape it would take.
Hanabie attacked B90 with all their powers.
Riffs, electronic flashes, cheeky pop melodies, rapid rhythmic turns everything arrived in rapid-fire sequences that made the room feel like it was skidding slightly off its axis.
At the centre of the chaos was Yukina, the band’s own human volatility switch. One moment bright clean vocals, the next a tight rap line, the next a scream that felt like it came from beneath the floorboards. The transitions weren’t just fast, they were playful, delivered with the grin of someone who knows exactly how absurd and brilliant her own range is.
And the crowd?
Alive, totally alive and playful.
The set built itself into a proper crescendo, the kind that feels earned and not merely plotted on a setlist. By the encore, the room was a single organism bouncing, shouting, laughing at the sharp stylistic whiplash Hanabie specialise in.
Together, Sun and Hanabie gave us a hell of an evening. The kind that hits from two completely different angles yet lands with the same force.
Sun with her ghost-lit ceremonial stillness.
Hanabie with their pastel chaos and joyous aggression.
B90 holding all of it like a vessel built specifically for nights that don’t behave like normal gigs.
If you like our article, our pictures, and our website, do not hesitate to follow us on Facebook and Instagram! We will really appreciate it!
