Describing J’cuuzi as a band is at the very least inaccurate, or worse: incorrect. While they do deliver sweaty, electrifying live performances of high octane songs that modulate between serrated post punk guitar and pulsing electro beats, there is at almost every turn some distortion of expectation, some curve, that the word “band” lacks the range to capture. The members, of which there are an ambiguous number, wear matching handmade couture, with bulbous anime-esque proportions and insectile features built around drag silhouettes. Their stage looks like a cheap apartment, with a dusty blue egg chair and a single guitar amp on either side of a bedazzled ironing board. Their performances, imbued with explosively manic energy and amateur acrobatics, often spill out and in to the crowd. Even the songs themselves pivot between perspectives on a dime, like two tracks of a similar tempo stitched together by a particularly opportunistic DJ. Whether you call them a band, a performing art troupe, or a drag family; J’cuuzi has set a pace of expansion and experimentation that proves their’s is an act worth watching.