I'm not one to hang around kiddies' playgrounds (honestly!), but when I strolled into Shimokitazawa's Shelter last week I was instantly teleported into a school disco, and it kinda felt good. But keep that to yourself, OK.

The kids here are all 18 going on 14. They are all drinking tea or orange juice. I am the only one smoking and I feel a little bit guilty about it. Images flood my head of some spoilsport games master grabbing me from behind and forcing me to stay after the gig to write a thousand lines on how bad I've been. When I ask the barman for a beer he pauses momentarily as if confused. I wish I'd shaved. God, I feel old.

Teeny Frahoop are going to be huge! They can't play for toffee, really, but, then again, they probably are doing just that. But give them time, Goddamit, be patient, 'cos these girls are indie goddesses in the making.

Lead vocal passes democratically between guitarist Noriko and bassist Yoshiko, who both crave the limelight. I bet they argued intensely in their bedrooms about who would sing before they'd even decided on a name or even plucked their first string and finally came to a fragile agreement to share the vocals.

It takes massive concentration for shoegazing Yoshiko to sing and play at the same time so, for the moment, the more confident Noriko edges it, although she sometimes struggles 'cos she sets herself such impossibly adventurous heights on her go-for-it chord changes and I-am-the-queen solos. But, bloody big Buddhas, she's got the A-1 attitude and she looks as cool as a lone polar bear armed with a large cucumber, especially when she pops punk into an indie pot bubbling with divine melodies and blitzes us with an impressive arsenal of furious riffs.

Teeny's new CD is a six-track split on K.O.G.A. Records, but on it they're a little overshadowed by superb new wave punkers Coastersride, who have a singer who sounds like Magazine's Howard Devoto screaming in a straitjacket.

The girls' debut album "Wee Wee Pop" is a much better showcase of their talent, brimming with kindergarten angst and beautiful spiky little tunes like the punkpop of "She Is Baby Panda," the jangly and highly quaffable "Banana Juice" and the lusciously melodic "To Lay," which sounds like the brilliant '80s indie band the Primitives.

When he feels the heat of my camera, Kampanerura's singer spins, pirouettes, pogoes, does the splits, probably wets his undies and spits the words out like he's chewing on a burning coal. What a showman!

He's gregariously goofy, what with his bowl cut and funky spex and a squeeky voice around which harmonies shamelessly flutter like early Beachboys.

Is this a collection of Ocean Colour Scene B-sides? Oh, that's cruel. Kampai to Kampanerura. They're not too bad.

With Elevator Action the girls (80 percent of the audience) love the between-song banter more than the tunes and each squeals with delight when singer Yasushi Matsuo's eyes hover near them for just a split second.

I'm not sure what Yasushi's saying, but I think it's more like "why not join us for an aftershow vanilla shake?" rather than "shall we shag now, or later, bay-beh?"

Guitarist Noribumi Suzuki brandishes a fancy Rickenbacker that his mum probably bought him. She spoils him because she can't comprehend how she managed to drop such an angelically sweet-looking sprat. He's clad in his perfect skin and a U.S.-indie-style skintight T-shirt reading: "I celebrated my birthday with Chuck E. Cheese." I bet he's never devoured a slice of pizza in his life. Just lettuce crunched through his bunny rabbit smile. When his balls drop he's gonna be dangerously sexy.

A besuited middle-aged guy in dark glasses bobs up and down near the stage surrounded by a kindergarten class of moshers. He's either a talent scout, Noribumi's dad or an aging homosexual with a fine appreciation of young boys. Whatever, he's having fun.

When I'm taking pics at the front I note the girls are quivering, shuddering, shaking, screeching, probably splashing, and then slumping back against walls with heartfelt puppy-dog smiles romping across their playful faces. The closest these virgins have come to the big one.

Parents: If you catch the new album "Get Some Poppa" in the house -- BURN IT!

The band finishes with a flourish, rocking out on the last two songs and sounding like Television, and all the earlier mod-pop stuff is forgotten and forgiven, in an instant.

Watch out! Here come boy punkers House Plan playing stuff from new album "World of World." They love shouting. They even growl now and then devilishly and it terrifies the girls at the front and the moshpit is instantly raised 5 C.

No tea or orange juice for this trio. They drink beer (OK, with a splash of black currant juice). They smoke at least one cigarette each. They don't spit on you. They don't beat you up. But, hey, I bet they'd love to grab your younger brother's pencil case and empty it on the school playground floor and kick it about a bit in front of all the girls.

Irma says, "I've never seen a moshpit where everyone is under five feet (150 cm) tall," and a fraction of a second later a midget schoolgirl bounces back on her flubbered soles and head butts poor Irm in the face.

I can smell something burning. Then I realize I've accidentally dropped a fag onto my sneaker and I'm on fire. Smoke is enveloping my right ankle. I immediately toss the rest of my beer over my trousers and now it looks like I've suffered the same fate as the girls down the front.

Teeny Frahoop plays Shimokitazawa Club Que Sept. 2; Kampanerura plays Shimokitazawa's Garage July 10, Shinjuku Jam July 16; Elevator Action plays Shimokitazawa 2-5-1 Aug. 8, Shinjuku Jam Aug. 26; Coastersride plays Sangenjaya Heaven's Door July 10, Shinjuku Jam July 18. For details of House Plan's gigs e-mail www .tky .3web .ne .jp/ ~ldandk

This column appears on the first and third Tuesdays of the month. E-mail me at [email protected] or write c/o The Japan Times.