What you see is what you get
What a difference four years make. The last time Scissor Sisters played Fuji the reaction was underwhelming. At the time the band was touring their second, less exuberant album, and their headlining set at the White Stage started great and just sputtered out. This time, they got the “special guest” position on the Green Stage to officially close the festival, and fulfilled their mission perfectly, or should I say gorgeously. Continue Reading…
I have been contributing to this team at FujiRock for six years now, and I’ve never covered a headline act. I usually leave this duty for guys with a lot more experience like Phil, guys who write for a living. But when I saw no one else had selected to review this seminal group, I had to take it on.
I came here from a disappointing Ian Brown. I’m amped for something more. More what? Well, more good. I chose to walk along the back road so I could have a view of the stage from behind with the audience aglow. It’s a special view that I’ve added here after the jump. Apologies for the no tripod fuzziness. I managed to be watching from here just as they came on and the crowd rushed forward, quite a sight I’d not experienced from afar before. Continue Reading…
Man, on day three of the festival there is nothing better than sitting back in a camping chair and listening to the tasty tunes of Donavon Frankenreiter. He’s a surfer and a jammer, sort of like Jack Johnson, and both dudes are buds, so you know it was gonna be a good show.
Donavon did not disappoint, giving the audience just what they needed with an able backing band that fully represented. It was some of the sweetest melodies of the whole festival. At one point, he even put the microphone out in the audience and invited everyone to singalong. I was epic, everyone chiming in with “If you don’t matter to you, you don’t matter to me.” I must say that the folks in the audience did a pretty good job with this melody as it could be hard to sing, but considering the language barrier and everything, they rocked it pretty good. Funny, but this line has the folksy surfer logic that makes Donavon who he is. And in the end, you just know it was gonna be a jam, and let me tell you one thing, it sure was a tasty finish
Rostam Batmanglij
I was worried Vampire Weekend might be a dull live show, even though their records have all kinds of energy, based on live videos and comments I’d seen online. False alarm though; the band was well into it, and Ezra Koenig was positively loose as he lead them through the set, every bit the attractive and charming rich best friend everybody wants to have. No sadism and just a little sarcastic, but the kind that compliments your intelligence rather than insults.
Glad they got the Green Stage, too, as grand is the appropriate size for their party, and while the sun is still up is the perfect time. (You gotta be able to imagine yourself on a sailboat or beachside or somewhere else sunny and privileged). Great sound too, with Chris Thomson’s propulsive drumming and every staccato guitar note cutting through like a skiff at the Cape.
Strolling back down the hill from our hotel after a quick trip to dump my gear, a quick grab of the Boom Boom Satellites can be heard as the traffic lulls and the wind blows the right way. It reminds me of what I’m missing, but it makes a long walk much more pleasant.
Opening the Green Stage today was UK band, Ocean Color Scene. It’s been a while since they graced such a big stage, but the band’s experience and their pleasant nature made for a very entertaining performance and a good way to begin the day.
This Birmingham band have had a collection of records that failed to live up to earlier hype, but when condensed into the 45 minute festival format, it was tasty fare, with solid song after song with no filler. At its best, the band harken back to a nostalgic period of Britpop, an era known for equal parts anthems and ballads. While Ocean Colour Scene certainly aren’t Oasis, they have a solid sound with Simon Fowler providing top notch vocals that are a perfect fit for such a big stage, giving his music just enough room to roam about. And, there were plenty of fans in attendance. Its a long road back for this band who are trying to recapture the magic from their landmark albums Moseley Shoals and Marchin’ Already. But then again, this band seems like they are up for any challenge, and more than happy to prove that Britpop is far from dead.
A good way to clear up some of the residuals left behind after Roxy Music was to watch Chris Cunningham’s live 3-screen and 1 lazer performance. The images were haunting, everything from his signature Rubber Johnny doll to young girl’s laying in bed Exorcist style, and even haunting images from everyday life that we overlook like bridges and tail lights.
The performance was powerful and enrapturing with almost everyone from the Roxy Music crowd sticking around to see some powerful stuff. Despite the fact that you could not see much of Mr. Cunningham who was hidden in a cloak of darkness, many felt the power of his lurking presence and his view of of our mortal condition. It was they type of stuff that may have sent many into fits of twisting and turning, and even nightmares for those headed home to the campground. A little over the top in its delivery and content, though something altogether different as this visual artist is gradually making his way to the big stage and challenging musicians for the right to preach from this bully pulpit.
Jaime Cullum
The first thought that popped into my head as I approached the Green Stage Saturday afternoon and heard a vocal wafting through the trees was “damn, that kid does have a good set of pipes”. It caught me unawares, and you can’t deny your subconscious when that happens. (Blink bitch, blink!) Cullum’s voice has got the silky, it’s got the grit, and it spreads like apple butter.
He and his band were a five-piece this time (last time he was at Fuji it was as a trio), with upright bass and drums, and variously percussion (congas), horns, and Rhodes keyboard, with Cullum on piano.
Although he didn’t stay there. He was up and down the whole show, and I hate to throw sewage on his sundae, Continue Reading…
Masafumi Goto
Fuji Rock sometimes takes the credit for the enormous success of Asian Kung-Fu Generation, who went from the Rookie A Go Go stage in 2004 to Budokan in a little more than a year’s time. Actually, the Yokohama quartet was already buzz-worthy when they played Rookie, and later that summer even appeared at Summer Sonic. Nevertheless, they’ve been almost annual visitors to the festival and this year were slotted into the tricky opening position on Sunday at the Green Stage.
It’s difficult to receive the kind of overnight success Ajikan has without being jaded, and I almost didn’t notice they had started playing when they opened their set with a quiet, reflective song that seemed sort of wimpy, especially given lead singer Masafumi Goto’s bespectacled grad student demeanor. I had just come from the Red Marquee, where Good For Nothing, a hardcore pop punk ensemble, had cleared my sinuses with a rip-roaring set. These guys are buzz-worthy at the moment and are still young and hungry, but the attitude is backed up with chops and a real talent for songs. Would they be the next Ajikan? Continue Reading…
Catch that buzz
The wetness had returned in full force by the time Roxy Music took the Green Stage Saturday night, and might have been the cause of the jumbo screens going on the blink temporarily. During the opening song, “Re-make/Re-model,” the screens showed cover art from Roxy albums and then went blank. When they occasionally flickered on, they’d show guitarist Phil Manzanera or reedman Andy Mackay, but no Bryan Ferry. Was the infamously vain lead singer not having his image conveyed? Talk about remaking, remodeling.
Eventually, the glitch was repaired and Ferry’s still handsome kisser was all over the Jumbotron, but by that point we’d already heard “Out of the Blue” and had proceeded into that part of the band’s back catalog where they gave themselves over completely to unabashed romanticism rather than the curdled kind that characterized their first three albums. Younger rock fans who grew up listening to “My Only Love” and “More Than This” probably think this is what Roxy’s all about, but for all the Brylcreem and worsted suits and pneumatic fashion models, Roxy represented a perversion of the slick, sophisticated modern male. The best illustration of this is “In Every Dream Home a Heartache,” which used to be quite scary. On the Green Stage it was given a lush arrangement that neutralized much of the song’s self-disgust and dread, and Ferry didn’t seem up to acting it fully, so he pumped it full of irony. Continue Reading…
Let's choogle
It was totally appropriate that John Fogerty’s first Japan show in 38 years opened with “Almost Saturday Night,” even though it might have been even more appropriate if Fogerty had played the song himself rather than a recording of it. One thing that may have been lost over the years in terms of the legacy that Creedence Clearwater Revival bequeathed to popular music is that CCR was first and foremost a dance band in the classic tradition. They were a group that played for working class people on the weekends. They were local entertainers. “Nice to see you,” Fogerty said when he finally came. “Let’s have some fun.”
And fun we had. Not so much because Fogerty played all his hits, but because those hits were written and performed with the idea of thrilling people rather than impressing or enlightening them (they eventually did that, too, but it was just gravy). Now that Fogerty is a national treasure who finally owns his publishing and can do whatever he pleases, he can afford a big band of studio slickers to take with him on the road. I mean, Kenny Aronoff? Doug Clifford may have been a limited drummer, but he did as he was told. Aronoff can’t help but draw attention to himself with that bald head, those muscleman arms, and that huge attack. In fact, the attack was overkill in general. Did Fogerty really need three extra guitarists? Much of the beauty of the original Creedence sound was its spare but efficient arrangements, which were all but lost in the wall of sound that came from the Green Stage.
I blogged about JBT growing into something more interesting a month or so back. Due to a surprise lift from a kindly local from the minshuku we’re staying at (40 odd minutes walk from the Green Stage), I was able to slide in just as John Butler picked up his slide guitar. Actually, it was a banjo that he started the day’s activities with. But that doesn’t work with where I’m going… Continue Reading…
Near the end of Ken Yokoyama’s hour-long Green Stage set on Friday, the soggy crowd of riled up fans at the base of the stage started chanting “punk rock.” On cue, Yokoyama began head banging to their words. With the crowd’s shouts growing louder, Yokoyama and his three-piece backing band kicked into the blistering child friendly closer “Don’t Make Me Pissed Off, Fuckin’ Son Of A Bitch.”
The Fujirocker chief carefully plans a schedule for the bloggers, sending us all around the festival, making sure we cover most of the bands and see the acts we like. I was scheduled for La Ruda at the Orange Court, but accidentally went in the wrong direction and watched John Fogerty instead. When I got there, I found the rest of the team, presumably doing much the same. I’m posting this picture by way of grassing up all the beardy weirdies that I have to work with to show it wasn’t just me neglecting my duties.
If you want to know what Fogerty was like, look for Phil’s report later. But for me, this was the gig of the festival so far. Fogerty is that kind of legend that adds an extra dimension to a show just by standing there. His banter to the crowd, which amounted to saying “How y’all doing” three times, is perfectly OK here because we just want him to play. This is a man with SO many massive songs to his name that you’re not hanging out for that one big hit (see MGMT later) but knowing that every tune might be a monster. All of which only goes to prove how clever I am for telling fellow Fujirocker Jeff that Proud Mary was certain to be the set closer, which it was. I’m burning hot with predictions this weekend. It’s one of my favourite tunes ever, though that’s partly because Ike & Tina Turner an insanely good version of it, but hearing it from Fogerty was magical. The guy must be about 260 years old by now, but he doesn’t look it or sing like it, and he’s outdone every young punk I saw so far this weekend. This was one of those gigs I won’t forget.
La Ruda were probably great too. If you were there, post your review in the comments please.
Big tunes: ★ ★ ★ ★ ★
Hillbillies in plaid shirts: ★ ★
Dance in the mud ★ ★ ★ ★ ★
men in black
Get the fist pumping and the blood will follow: that’s a worthwhile credo for Saturday morning, at least for those who were at the festival Friday and stayed up a bit too late doing a bit too much the night before. Hatano, the drummer and spokesman of the punk band Hawaiian6–which is not from Hawaii and counts only three members–obviously understood what he was up against and was gracious about thanking people sincerely for moshing and genuinely acting unrestrained. “You usually don’t have to thank foreigners,” he said, “but with Japanese it’s necessary.” Everybody wants to be appreciated, even if it’s for their own good. Continue Reading…
John Paul Jones
Rain ain’t nuthin. Them Crooked Vultures are somethin’. And the Green Stage was definitely thumpin’ on Friday with its second to last performance of the day.
Dave Grohl had already made an appearance up at the Field of Heaven sitting in on the kit with Taylor Hawkins and his Coattail Riders about 90 minutes earlier, so he was already primed. The crowd was, too, as evidenced by the huge eruption of applause when Grohl walked out on the Green Stage to his drum set. In fact, each member of the quote-unquote “supergroup” got their applause as the took the stage, but even the venerable John Paul Jones’ reception paled in comparison to that of Grohl.
From that point on, there wasn’t a lot of talk and a whole lotta rawk. Blasting through pretty much every song from their self-titled album, the Vultures stomped like rhythmich mnachines through time changes, key alterations, double stops and double kicks and an incredibly tasty solo from touring guitar player Alaines Johannes that lasted so long I thought the rest of the band was going to come out in new costumes. It could have gone on longer, for all I cared, because Johannes finger-picked his Fender Mustang into tone drenched state of bliss that was a complete left turn from the rest of the sets proceedings and showcased just how much each member of this band contributed to the sum of its parts.
I mean, this band is tight. And the only act so far that I stayed to watch from the rain soaked walk onstage to the last fading guitar note dissipated into the mountains. And I still wanted more.
I mean, let’s face it: how can you go wrong with Mssrs Grohl, Jones and Homme all onstage together? Easily the hardest rock act of this fest, one of the more technically proficient, and with degrees of separation that fan deep into modern rock iconology; this was a destination set that lived up to its bill. Hard to dance to? Yep. Easy to bash the shit outta your air drum kit? Fuckin’ right.
The family that plays together
Whatever Johnny Marr’s reasons for joining the Cribs as a full-time member, on stage he actually looks like a fourth Jarman, or, maybe more like an uncle, given the wide gap in ages. The resemblance may be pure coincidence, or it might be due to the fact that the group’s latest album, Ignore the Ignorant, is their most accomplished work yet; as if Marr straightened out all the things that were problematic about the Jarman brothers’ music without interfering with the British group’s talent for fractured Amerindie melodies. They opened their afternoon Green Stage performance with “We Were Aborted,” a classic example of ragged, loud pop punk that features Gary Jarman’s most artless vocal, a coarse, hoarse bleet whose edges fall outside the song’s rhythmical and harmonic parameters. Meanwhile brother Ryan and Marr strummed their instruments with the fiercest determination. This is a band that goes through guitar picks like Bugs Bunny goes through carrots. Continue Reading…
Mutemath had ‘em bouncing around at the Green stage on Friday afternoon, coming on strong with a driving first song, “Set It On Fire” – well at least that was the refrain – and some monster drumming courtesy of Darren King.
The New Orleans natives just set to pounding out some serious tunes with driving crunchy guitar provided by Gregg Hill, steady workman bass lines from Roy Mitchell-Cardenas, keyboards all over the place from leader Paul Meary (with help at time from Hill), and again, King’s powerhouse small kit monster drumming.
Song four saw Meary and the Hill both on some heavy synth duties, and bass player Mitchell-Cardenas joining King on the kit bashing the shit outta the toms.
And, yes, there is some keytar more than involved in the Mutemath set, making it easy for Meary to shuffle around guitar style around while playing.
I must have missed something the past few years because all the Japanese people around me seemed to know all the songs, so perhaps I’m just not that cool anymore. Even if they didn’t know the songs, the crowd swelled about halfway through to almost double the size and people started going off. I’m sure they made 10,000 new friends on Facebook today. And it’s not hard to see why. With some beautiful keyboard melodies between the driving rock progressions – sort of an American cross between U2 and Snow Patrol – and an energetic stage presence, they are an easy band to “Like”.
Mutemath on Green Stage
Shiho Ochi
Highly appropriate, the opening act of the festival proper was Superfly, which is basically singer Shiho Ochi backed by a killer band of classic rock mimics and the songwriting talents of Koichi Tabo. The name is taken from the Curtis Mayfield movie theme song, which opened the show, but Ochi’s main influence pool sounds more like white 60s-70s R&B: Janis, Steppenwolf, that sort of thing. Fuji’s target cohort has always had a special soft spot for this period and style of American music, even if the lineup doesn’t always reflect it. The late Kiyoshiro Imawano, whose rollicking anthem “Inaka e Iko” (Let’s Go to the Country) always opens the Friday festivities promptly at 11 a.m., was Japan’s greatest gift to this style since he was a contemporary who played with some of the American giants who created it. Superfly doesn’t quite reach those heights, but they certainly know why people still love this kind of big, ballsy music. Continue Reading…
John Fogerty
There’s only one person on the bill this year that appeared at the original Woodstock: John Fogerty (there nearly were two – Them Crooked Vultures’ John Paul Jones was invited to Woodstock with Led Zep, and the band was reportedly keen, but manager Peter Grant ruled it out on the premise that there were too many big names on the bill – the exact opposite reason for the refusals of The Byrds and The Doors, who thought it would be just a hokey little festival of no significance). Continue Reading…
John Butler Trio
This will be John Butler’s third stint at Fuji Rock, having done the 2005 and 2007 festivals. Now touring with a new(ish) pair, hot on the heels of April Uprising (released in… erm… March this year), Butler and his boys have been quietly moving up on the FRF Fame-O-Meter: 2005 saw them on the Field of Heaven, 2007 the White Stage, and now this year they’ll be filling in the early Saturday timeslot on the Green Stage. Continue Reading…
Behind the scenes of this blog, there’s been a lot of hand wringing about why no one has written anything about Roxy Music. There’ve been internal emails prodding us on this subject, and yet, no one has stepped forward to offer a critique of this late-70’s group which set the template, both musically and fashion wise, for the New Wave movement that followed.
I admit to some apathy regarding Roxy Music, a band I remember mostly from the bargain bins of my local record story; particularly how the words “Roxy Music” were distinctively lettered and centered near the top. This was in an age when album art was exploding in all different types of script and imagery, and yet, Roxy Music was quietly understated. And, few could rock out a white tuxedo and martini glass like Bryan Ferry, his signature contribution to our collective culture, as parodied in a recent episode of “The Mighty Boosh”, an English comedy as the character Vince describes his upbringing in the jungle.
Continue Reading…
PAUL MEANY
Asian Kung Fu Generation
They throw their own annual arena festivals, they look like button down rock and roll geeks rather than the anime super heroes their name suggests, and they’re the darling of the Japanese music industry’s record release cycle. They are: Asian Kung-Fu Generation. Continue Reading…
John Paul Jones, Josh Homme, and Dave Grohl of Them Crooked Vultures
As modern rock supergroup albums go, the self-titled debut by Them Crooked Vultures, with Dave Grohl (Nirvana and Foo Fighters) on (at least) drums, Josh Homme (Kyuss and Queens Of The Stone Age) on vocals and guitars etc., and John Paul Jones (Led Motherfucking Zeppelin) on a whole bunch of stuff but certainly bass, is better than Audioslave and the Raconteurs (though if the Raconteurs had caught on tape what they did live, they would’ve been crowned the kings of all supergroups forever).
With Homme on vocals, it ends up as a bit like a Queens Of The Stone Age album, though less metal and more funky. The presence of John Paul Jones has brought out more than a little Continue Reading…
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