Fujirockers: The official fansite of the Fuji Rock Festival

BATTLES IN JAPAN AT SOLD OUT LIQUID ROOM 2007

Math Rock. Rhythmic experimentalists. Berserkers. Battles, or BTTLS, if you hate vowels like their official website (www.bttls.com), is prepared for a summer of festivals, a long way from their birthplace NYC. France, UK, Denmark, Slovakia, Italy, Pitchfork (Chicago), and Fuji Rock (again), just to name a few festival happenings in July alone. These guys are glossing the globe with their globular drops of surprise sound round every audible corner. The new album Gloss Drop came out last month and peaked on the US Indie charts at number 19.

So, wear pink. Or cover yourself in expanding foam caulk/silly string for this special Saturday evening event!

But these guys are not only musical mathematicians. They have excellent marketing, too. There is networking genius behind getting music this raw and arguably anti-melodic traditionally speaking, into mainstream ears in the UK and elsewhere, by way of The Skins, some teeny-bopper TV series, Audi and Honda commercials, and the Twilight Saga: Eclipse OST soundtrack. How long will they be classified as “indie?” And does the music actually market itself? Continue Reading…

Film director, Wes Anderson, has done much to revive the British Invasion, unearthing  overlooked B-sides and building scenes around forgotten songs such as the Rolling Stones “2,000 Man,” which scored the penultimate scene of “Bottle Rocket” when protagonist, Dignan (Owen Wilson), triumphantly declares, “They’ll never catch me, man, ’cause I’m fuckin’ innocent.”  Moments later, of course, he’s face down in meat locker and frog marched into an awaiting police cruiser.  For Anderson’s follow up, “Rushmore”, he choreographs a breathtaking closing scene to The Face’s ambling singalong, “Ooh La La.”

The main lyric in the line, sung by a gravel throated Ron Wood, “I wish that I knew what I know now, when I was younger,” mirror the movie’s central theme of adolescence, and again, lost innocence.  In the liner notes, Anderson says he initially wanted to score the whole film to Kinks songs, but eventually opened it up to music from the British Invasion. It’s a good thing he did, as Anderson credits “Ooh La La” with being the main inspiration for this closing scene.

This is a good example of what Wes Anderson’s soundtracks do best, they find great music that was once overlooked and make us wonder how we could have ever lived our lives without listening to it. For many, The Faces may have been a footnote to Rod Stewart’s career but their back catalogue, especially precursor, The Small Faces, brims with angular guitar riffs and a mod style that have set the template for UK music for the next 50 years.Paul Weller is an avowed fan, and don’t think that Arctic Monkeys don’t take a page from this book. Continue Reading…

MY SKETCH OF THE BROS SWIMMING UPSTREAM

Tom and Ed on Facebook have nearly a million friends. For 20 years the duo has been building a “Chemmunity” of trip-hopping, break beating, alternative house heads, taking listeners “Further” (2010) upstream electronically, like dancing Salmon. Visually, too, with a “light show that put U2 to shame,” the Brothers’ brother/sisterhood pulses strong, even with audience numbers in the tens of thousands at nearly back-to-back festival dates worldwide, all summer long.

Hopefully the duo can bring the same energy to Fuji Rock as they brought to their record-setting headlining appearance at Glastonbury last week. The lasers overhead, projections of neon pink elephants, freaky sad clowns, and a hundred blinking eyeballs assist audience members’ visual and spatial disorientation experience while dancing into oblivion. Don’t be ashamed to proclaim like their 2007 album says, “We Are the Night!” And remember your glow sticks.

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Fountains of Wayne, Shibuya Club Quattro Jan. 2010

If Chris Collingwood’s and Adam Schlesinger’s careers have proven anything it’s that great pop, the kind that hooks you immediately and stays with you indefinitely, is hard work. As the songwriting heart of Fountains of Wayne, Collingwood and Schlesinger are masters of two disciplines: The three-minute power pop song, and the thumbnail sketch of tri-state suburban life. In terms of the latter, each FOW album has progressively dealt with an older cohort. On their third album, Welcome Interstate Managers, the duo moved beyond short stories of adolescent yearning among the subdivisions to more adult themes, but without losing their taste for sweet radio-ready pop–John Cheever filtered through Tommy James. The white collar orcs who stumble through the album’s tales of urban angst and suburban lassitude can’t understand why life isn’t as good as their guidance counselors told them it would be. A self-assured Wall Street type drinks his way uptown, wondering how his lover would willingly leave New York “for no better place.” A novice account executive with “a new computer and a bright future in sales” wakes up hungover in the Port Authority Bus Terminal. In other words, they’re either losers in love who wait in vain for the “little red light” to blink on their message machines, or losers at work who can never “get the numbers to add up right.” On 2007’s Traffic and Weather, this sensibility aged slightly. It now belonged to the thirty-something who’s comfortable in his/her boring job and co-op condo. Marriage and kids should be the norm, but finding “Someone to Love” when there’s so much on TV and calories to burn isn’t so easy anymore; which means you find love where you can, even behind the counter at the DMV (”Yolanda Hayes”) or on a jaunt to Lichtenstein (”New Routine”). Continue Reading…

MANU CHAO WAILING SKETCH BY J MUZACZ

Fuji Rock Friday on the Green Stage, let’s “Patchanka!” (“Pachanga,” which means “party,” in colloquial vernacular) with the King of the Bongo himself, Manu Chao!  This venture (La Ventura) to Fuji Rock is one of Manu and friends tour dates on the Japon/US tour, also including Boston’s House of Blues, New York’s Terminal 5, and my previous residence, sunny Austin, Texas’ Austin City Limits Music Festival (headliner). Quick side story, I actually “listened” to Manu Chao LIVE from beyond the obstructing fence of an outdoor venue (Stubb’s) in Austin a few years ago, and I swear, there has never been as intense a dance party in that empty parking garage, out of view but well within hearing radius.

The man sings in seven languages. And, as his inclusive, semi-anarchist leftist leanings may dictate, he has probably picked up a little of an 8^th language, Japanese, having played a few shows here previously. For this and other reasons like diverse genre dexterity, superb song-writing and a nomadic street busker’s experience, energy and ethics, Manu has become a wonder of the world.  For his often simple yet striking lyrics, he has also been compared to the late/great Bob Marley for his revolutionary impact within a world sound’s accessible ease. Even still, a lot of his lyrics and philosophy hints that globalization as it were is actually something he is fighting against.

Nonetheless, ska-stomping, punk pits, flamenco twirls, salsa hip-shaking, reggae bobbing, introverted smily head-nodding, and those Latin language Otaku (loosely, nerds) in the crowd who can actually understand his lyrics, there will be something for everyone of every nation and any festival-participating-persuasion in the fantastic celebration that Manu brings to every huge festival stage, and has continually brought to bars and street corners around the world since 1984! Continue Reading…

FEELING BLUE?

I was all set to write a post to make the Guinness Records for “blog post with the highest number of bad puns used”, but since the weather has gone from sweltering sweating-like-a-sumo-wrestler-in-a-sauna hot to cool and wet, it kind of spoiled my flow.

Stupid rain.

Anyway. Coldplay. These British veterans certainly don’t need any further introduction, but in honour of the fact that it’s just barely a month before their performance I thought I’d give them a bit of a boost, to get you all in the mood.

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IF THE BLUES BROTHERS PLAYED SKA, WOULD YOU CALL THEM THE SK'USE BROTHERS?

Ska of course originated in Jamaica in the 1960s, and its legacy is long and winding. Japan’s ska wave dates to the 80s and 90s, with TSPO and another regular Fuji Rock act, Ska Flames, both founded in 1989 and laying a foundation of sorts for the scene. There’s a bit of a back story though, and more than a few tie-ins to this festival. Enter Gaz Mayall. Continue Reading…

MOGWAI LIGHTING UP THE STAGE AT SHIBUYA AX IN 2003

I thought the best way to give people some inkling of what it is like to see Mogwai at Fuji Rock was to make some attempt to put into words just how sublime the experience is. I have never attempted to accurately estimate how many live music performances I have seen in my life but I would imagine that it is approaching the 500 mark and I would have to say that Mogwai’s headlining show on the White Stage on the final night of Fuji 2003 would be in my top five live shows of all time. After patchy weather during the whole event it seemed as though the music gods had somehow known that Mogwai was about to play and the sky was beautifully clear and filled with a majesty and serenity as if in some kind of preparation for the sonic beauty you were about to be bathed in. I have always found it amazing how the outdoor setting of festivals can do terrible things to the acoustics of some bands while other artists seem to use the open air to enhance their sound. Mogwai is definitely one of the latter, filling the valley that houses the White Stage with music that for the most part doesn’t have vocals, but is as epic as it is emotional. Mogwai are simply the masters of building tension through extremes of volume and although their explosions of sound are so powerful they can be life altering, the thing that really amazed me about that show of theirs back in 2003 was the intensity and depth they were able to project when they were playing at what seemed like almost silent levels. Mogwai are again playing on the Sunday night but they have moved up a notch and will now grace the Green stage with their presence. For me, Mogwai are simply one of the best bands of all time. Please do yourself a favor and watch them at Fuji Rock.

* Photo by maikokko used with the permission of Smashing Mag.

When the line-up for 2011 began to trickle out, the first band to really excite me was Your Song Is Good. Awful name. Great band. Trouble is, now that the stage-by-stage listings are online, I can see that they’re going to be on early Sunday. Every year one of my must-see acts plays early on Sunday, and every year I fail to wake. By Sunday, you could tell me that Elvis was playing and I still wouldn’t be able to make it.

Your Song Is Good are big enough in Japan that they could be halfway up the bill on the White Stage, or bottom of the bill on the Green Stage. Sadly, someone decided to stick them on the big stage. Maybe their jazzy pop rock ska is going to start people off with a smile on their faces, but still… Sunday noon. Not a chance.

Check out their last show at Fuji. This is what I’ll be missing.

[Their Myspace is Good]

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.

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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.

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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.”

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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.