KOM_I is missing. It’s time for Wednesday Campanella’s set at Camp Flog Gnaw, but the group’s lead vocalist and only visible member is, well, not visible. She’s disappeared. Not on stage, not on the Jumbotron.

Suddenly, there’s a rustling near the back. Murmurs begin to ripple through the crowd, and people crane their necks to see what’s going on. By the time the buzz reaches the stage, KOM_I has been found all right: She’s barefoot and balancing her belly on a stepladder smack dab in the middle of the audience.

It’s a sweltering October afternoon, but even after her aerobic performance, KOM_I looks serene and cool to the touch. She’s traded the gauzy red cape she wore during WC’s show—which ended with as much bang as it began, KOM_I in a giant human hamster ball—for wide-leg jeans and a snowy, accordion-pleat mock turtleneck. The quick costume change worked. After a six-song set with a couple hundred curious eyes on her, the crazy girl who was singing while simultaneously doing a handstand has slipped through the crowd unnoticed.

She prefers it that way. “Growing up, I liked watching movies, traditional Japanese. Kabuki. I like watching something,” the 25-year-old singer and rapper says, reclining in a metal fold-out chair in a quiet corner of the carnival. She smiles. “I didn’t think I would perform. I’m so shy.”

“Shy” is not the first word that comes to mind. “About to blow up” is. Soon, she won’t have the cloak of anonymity to hide beneath. This is only Wednesday Campanella’s third appearance in the United States, but in the trio’s native Japan, they regularly sell out stadiums and arenas. KOM_I causes such a commotion, she probably shouldn’t be taking the train anymore. It’s a good thing KOM_I pulled the ladder stunt this weekend. Chances are, when the band comes through L.A. again, they’ll book the Staples Center.

Believe the hype. After all, Wednesday Campanella has been building it since 2012, when KOM_I joined manager Dir. F and producer Kenmochi Hidefumi’s project. In the five years since, the group has developed a rabid fan base at home with their prolific output of almost a dozen EPs. Now, with year’s Superman, their first major label album in Japan, they’ve finally begun to stretch their reach internationally.

Brimming with glistening, pop-kissed electro, the album is injected with fun surprises like MJ’s “Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin’”’s heeheeheehaa! and on-trend touches of flutes and future garage. Kenmochi and Dir. F’s sound is grounded in EDM, and they’re obviously having a blast playing with big drops, tropical house and their own patchwork compositions that morph from skittery to soulful in a beat. What Superman does especially well is supply both radio DJs and subterranean club kids with bangers. Take the glorious “Audrey”—it’s frenetic enough for the hardcore ravers at Coachella’s Sahara Tent but approachable enough for people gently nod their heads along to Calvin Harris in their car.