Fujirockers: The official fansite of the Fuji Rock Festival

Just trotted back form hippy heaven Gypsy Avalon where I had a wonderful, peaceful time watching Maia Hirasawa and was met by this over at the White Stage:

THAT'S A WHOLE LOTTA PEOPLE

Looks like Asian Dub Foundation is pretty popular. o.O;

Please pay attention

From what I’ve heard, Tyondai Braxton, the founder and main idea man of the super-math rock group Battles, left the band last year because he no longer could stand the tour grind. It seemed the end of the band, but the three remaining members, drummer John Stanier, keyboardist Ian Williams, and guitarist David Konopka, said they would, er, battle on. They went into the studio almost immediately and made Gloss Drop, a Braxton-less Battles album, and in a way it’s a big improvement. Braxton’s self-conscious iconoclasm, it turns out, was behind the rigid lockstep changes and the bizarre aural touches. Without them, the three members demonstrate a facility for art rock with the emphasis on rock. Continue Reading…

Riotous

One song from Ra Ra Riot’s second album sums up the band’s sensibility: “Too Dramatic.” It has less to do with willed emotionalism than with the band’s musical choices. Employing a full-time string section (well, violin and cello) isn’t so impossible for an indie band any more since The Arcade Fire showed up, but in Ra Ra Riot’s case it seems more a case of the band adjusting to the instruments than the other way around. Wes Miles is a good singer, with a clear tone and articulate phrasing. He can afford to be dramatic, and the words just flow out of him like water. The bass, guitar, and drum configuration, with keyboards occasionally thrown in, seem enough for the kind of soaring chamber rock Ra Ra Riot specializes in, so are the strings necessary? Continue Reading…

Mr. Positive

The late afternoon slot anywhere is the kiss of death. Everybody’s a little sleepy or punchy or conserving their energy for the night. Still, it seems more and more people who attend concerts bring chairs and nod off whenever they please, so maybe it isn’t as big a problem as in the past. Hanaregumi, the solo project of former Super Butter Dog vocalist Takashi Nagazumi, plays soft rock and soul influenced by American artists of the 70s, in particular those from Los Angeles, and while he can play loud and tough, for the most part his vocal style is patterned on smooth and subtle. Don’t get me wrong, the guy’s a better singer than 99 percent of the young men who claim such an occupation in Japan. But his peculiar strengths are with quiet songs that show off his detailed phrasing. He’s obviously listened to a lot of Paul Simon.

Dressed as if for a beach resort, Nagazumi was as nonchalant in his presentation style as he was intense in his singing, which is mostly in the higher registers. The music was comfort food, gospelly and uplifting in its attitude. So despite the siesta time slot, people poured down from the upper reaches of the Green Stage amphitheater to get close and personal with Nagazumi, which was only proper. Everything about the guy’s music is close and personal. He didn’t necessarily belong there, but the people who knew his music also knew what to do to appreciate it.

photo: Izumi Kumazawa

TRIUMPHANT!

“Cho Genki!” translates roughly as “Super Vitality!” And that playful, poppy, what reminds me of a Peter Pan hipster ska version of Michael Jackson; Kaji Hideki’s necktie was a little too short, as were his (and Riddim Saunter members’ shorts), but he really did put on an entertaining show, possibly a little too entertaining for my personal taste, though.

After a few tracks, the Gypsy Avalon lawn was filled to the brim, and the muddy walkways became standing room only as well. There were girls standing in the river, too.  Up front the groupies showed their grins in hopes of catching the boys’ manicured yet tuffled-to-be-just-cute-enough faces for a fleeting moment of 20-year-old crush bliss. There was even a forty-something lady in the front row singing along and having a blast.

Continue Reading…

ETHICALLY CLEAN SOUNDS AND GRASS

Grass. Actual grass. And thanks to all this rain, a small river runs through it. The sound booth is a neat, yet poorly placed geodesic dome, reminds me of Burning Man, as does the environmentally proactive theme and message surrounding this sweet hillside tucked away just enough to give you pleasant reprieve from all the big stage sounds, crowds and mud pits. It is now going past the halfway point of this years festival, so you may be feeling a bit worn out and just want a toned down communal vibe, chill acts (except for Mr. Hideki and the Riddim Saunter earlier), and a place to eat your Tom Yum Ramen from the restaurant stall around the corner. There are also natural products that smell really good for sale. Maybe you should pick up something to disguise that pesky mold growing in your ears and between your toes thanks to Naeba’s constant damp humidity this year. It is also nice be able to sit down on the ground, and not get up looking like you had a terrible chocolate accident in the pants. There are plenty peace signs to cuddle with up the hillside, too.

THESE FOLKS PLAY EXCELLENT FOLK MUSIC

Banjo, upright bass, steel guitar, electric guitar, and Ms. Nakamura’s more authentic than authentic can throw a stick at authentic vocal sounds and flawless acoustic guitar. They start the set unassumingly, no frills, just straight skills with “Some Happy Day.” And it is for me, increasingly as they take me on a trip back to my homeland America’s musical heritage, as good or better than the originals. The next track’s refrain, “Gonna build me a log cabin on a mountain so high,” certainly resonates with campers, commiserating in their tent cabins set up here in the mountains of Naeba.

The Field of Heaven stage decorations this year provide one of the best settings for this kind of roots music, too. Pine branches draped and disguising the huge speaker stack scaffolding, blending with the backdrop of pine beyond. Perhaps this venue 2^nd best, only to a campfire in the hills of North Carolina, cooking beans in a can, chewing spit from a tin, and washing it down with moonshine for the win! Continue Reading…

THIS WAY TO HEAVEN

The boardwalk from the White Stage to Orange Court/Field of Heaven is a long one, but at least there’s stuff to look at along the way. Rabbits and signs and disco balls, oh my!

RABBITS ARE NOT GRAMMATICALLY CORRECT

EMO RABBIT IS...SURPRISINGLY DEEP

ALTERNATIVE TO LOOKING AT THE BUSHES

ALL THAT GLITTERS

Takuma strums the fretboard of his very long guitar

The music is good, but seems a little by the numbers to me. But then a lot of punk / ska bands sound that way to me. But it was good enough to have a good sizeable mosh going on in an otherwise fairly sparse (for a J band on White stage) afternoon crowd. It’s not even raining any more, so I don’t know what happened there. It must be their fans are few, but passionate.

Speaking to a couple of fans after the set (J-punk fans are almost always impossibly cute young girls) they told me their pick of the set was the last song, Goes On. I must agree. How could I argue when the fans have spoken?

Photo by 深野輝美
More photos HERE

There’s something about a man with a mustache in full drag. Complete with Goldilocks wig. Singing in a deep baritone. Yes. This is string bean skinny Toby-san. Nice to meet you, how you do?

Toby is assisted by his assistant, the beautifully Reubenesque Mia. A more than capable assistant. More than capable of outdoing any Harajuku girl. Gwen Stefani take note. Continue Reading…

Here are some of the images appearing on the message board near the Oasis Food Court. There are red and blue and black marker pens are available, allowing some people to scribble and put their Tumblr addresses, while others are doing drawings about dog poo. Stop by and add your own comments and or artwork.

Yeah it’s a bummer but the heavy rains have shut down the Dargondola service today and the stages in the area.

Just telling you now…maybe it will reopen tomorrow.

In the meantime can we recommend relaxing at Cafe de Paris?

Looking for the sun

Fountains of Wayne took the Green Stage at 12:30 to the strains of Percy Faith’s iconic MOR 1960s lounge instrumental, “A Summer Place,” and it suddenly occurred to me the point of it. The opening song on the group’s latest album (as yet only released in Japan) is called “The Summer Place,” a somewhat unexceptional title but one that takes on even more meaning when contrasted with the Faith classic. It’s about a vacation home that has apparently remained in the family so that the people who used to spend their childhood summers there are now spending their adult summers in the same house, with all its memories, both good and bad. Certainly some of those memories involved listening to “A Summer Place” on the radio (or, even worse, their parents’ stereo). Continue Reading…

ORGANIC GOODNESS

With so much fantastic food, it’s hard to resist trying it all. So I don’t.

One thing I’ve been on the hunt for though is some decent coffee. Yesterday afternoon I finally found some in the Field of Heaven. It’s organic and… decent. Not great, but better than most of the other stuff on offer for the same price. So if you’re looking for coffee, Heaven is a good place to look. (Or more specifically, Lotus Cafe.)

COFFEE HEAVEN?

I know a doctor who can remove that for you

The J-pop trio Clammbon seemed an odd choice to open the second day festivities. The group’s willfully quirky song structures and melodic non sequiturs, combined with keyboardist Ikuko Harada’s adult-child vocals, would have made more sense at Gypsy Avalon, or maybe Orange Court in the late afternoon. There are a lot of new people who show up on Saturday morning, fresh from their working weeks, and they probably want to jump right in. As a trio, Clammbon is better suited to taking you by the hand and wading in. Continue Reading…

FUJI FASHION OF THE DAY: RAINCOATS

I hoped the forecast of 100% rain would be wrong. It’s not. It’s 100% raining. My new tent neighbors from England are frantically trying to tie-down their tent and keep things dry, though they both look like wet stray cats in a storm; eyeliner running down cheeks, hair matted, shivery lips of worry, etc. Apparently she lost her wallet and passport yesterday, god forbid in one of the countless mud pits. But, thankfully if it is found, the honesty and integrity of Fuji Rockers, and Japanese in general ought to bring it to lost and found for her to gratefully find later. (She did actually!)

Anyway, my pants and socks from Thursday’s torrential downpour are still soggy, though they’ve been hanging up to “dry” in my tent for 2 days now. “Dry” is a bit of a joke out here this year, a long-lost love, a foggy memory of the good ol’ days when sun shined gloriously, brightly, high in the blue skies over Naeba. Maybe Sunday’s forecast of “partly” cloudy will be “partly” right. I think I’m developing gills. Already I have a dorsal fin-sized spider bite on my ankle.

Nonetheless, I cherished the body heat generated at Manu Chao’s special guest appearance at the Crystal Palace last night. This morning I am still riding that anarcho-chaotic mosh pit of love madness, making all the damp, dripping, mud cakes worth it, and granting the remaining two days an optimistic outlook, albeit in less than ideal conditions. I’m still waiting for 5000 person mud fight at White Stage, by the way…

Say, Incubus, think you can make that happen tonight?

DJ Nobu spins in his sleep

So you know what that means, don’t you. Most of Nobu’s set fell on other people’s ears. But I did manage to catch a half hour or so. When I first arrived, about an hour into Nobu’s set, it was banging at a rate similar to Protoculture, who I’d just escaped. His was relentless, and unchanging. This wasn’t the Nobu i’d seen a few months back, surely. But any worries I had were quickly put to rest as he changed it up, lightened the mood, and began to wind down his set. The audience was sparse by this point, but these are the people you need to play to. No treating the most dedicated of your crowd with disrespect. Nobu moved through the end of his set in a fluid motion, and was able to keep his existing crowd going, and bring in the latecomers (me) with great tunes, played with great skill.

Nothing more. Nothing less. A fantastic end to the night.

Photo by 府川展也
More photos Here

So hot you might scorch your fingers

Protoculture took over from Darren Emmerson at about 3:00 or so. The general consensus was that Emmerson would be a hard act to follow. He had satisfied many with just what they had hoped for. And, it seems, surprised a few that were expecting less.

And thusly Protoculture took over. We knew it would be a different kettle of fish the moment Emmerson put on Protoculture’s first wreck chord for him. Bangin. Hard. From the get go. Isn’t that what techno is? Ask your mum. She’ll tell you. Ts bm ts bm ts bm ts bm. Ad nauseum.

Well, I don’t think it has to be. And I’d quite prefer it if it wasn’t. It was ok. But that’s what it was to me, and it seemed others too. Take The Lawnmower Man, when asked for his opinion on Emmerson: He was better than the next guy. Yes, indeed.

The highlight for me were the visuals. Three fire dancers, including two belly dancers. This was complemented by random bursts of flame from two jets either side of the stage. It was enough to take enough of my attention, and meant I enjoyed the music more, even if it was due to it being relegated to the background, for me anyway. I was also distracted by asking the punters present to write my Darren Emmerson piece.

But that said, I’ve heard so called “masters” of techno do much, much worse. It kept the crowd dancing, anticipating the next act. System 7. A fine way to finish a party.

Photo by 近澤幸司
More photos HERE

Darren Emmerson focuses on his craft by triangulation

I blame Don Coglione. It was he who scoffed when I suggested I might skip Manu Chao in the Crystal Palace. There are many things I will grin and bear, but scoffing is not one. So Manu Chao proved to be well worth the effort. But it meant I arrived for Darren Emmerson at 2:56. Or 25:56, if you follow the Japanese space time continuum. So, with four minutes left of his set, I did what any self respecting FujiRocker in my position would do: I asked the audience to write the review for me. Here’s what they had to say:

The Adonis told me: Emmerson really got the crowd going. He played a lot of hard stuff. He was much better than The Adonis expected.

The Con Man said he was kind of a little hard, but soft around the edges. He played a few Underworld like tracks, but no full Underworld plates like “Born Slippy”. We agreed that he leaves that for Paul Van Dyk.

The Fat Man told me he likes ten bags of Charlie. I think he meant himself, not Emmerson.

The Lawnmower Man said: better than the guy after him.

The False Groover said: Don’t ask me, I might tell you the truth. I’m jaded.

All I can say is this: in those last four minutes, I felt love. Donna Summers love. And THAT… is never a bad thing.

Photo by 近澤幸司
More photos HERE

Kensington Hilbillys get their noodle on

Such was the case with the Kensington Hilbillys, as tight an outfit of guitar twanging fells as you’ll find in the fair city of Toronto. Just as I arrived, the rains started, only difference this time being we’re at Naeba Shokodo under the trees, meaning a deluge of turgid drops from the trees above long father the rains stop.

No matter, as the four members on stage tonight played a great mix of lively originals such as The Cat Down In The Well, as well as covers from country greats such as Hank Williams. Recognising the significance of Joe Strummer, they dedicated “Go Straight To Hell, Boy” to his memory. That may sound a bit wrong in print, but it worked as a respectful homage in person.

It will be interesting to see these guys play a bigger stage. I think it would translate best into a boozy bar with saloon doors, and a big selection of whiskey & bourbon.

Photo by 直田亨
More photos HERE

Andrew Eldritch checks his cheat notes for tomorrow's maths test

Hitting the stage in a blaze of invisible drums, I assume the famous Dr Avalanche, Andrew Eldritch’s distinctive voice was almost drowned out, when the guitars of Chris Catalyst and Ben Christo were added into the mix. I know vocals are meant to get buried somewhat in this kind of music, but it wasn’t just me, a friend remarking on the lack of strength too. as the set wore on the mixers recognised the problem, and rectified it somewhat, but a couple of other small technical difficulties persisted.

It was interesting that, as my tastes run now more to the minimal side of electronic, to run into at first the promoter of Tokyo’s series of minimal techno parties, and a DJ I consider to be one of Tokyo’s best techno DJs. We reminisced briefly on the Sisters of Mercy being influential in shaping our musical tastes. It would seem that fans of this style of music have been herded in a certain direction, whether it be on the same track, or off on an obscure tangent.

A lot of the 80s sounds have aged in a way that does them no favours. Not so this group. The sounds emanating from the speaker stacks are as fresh as they were when they were (or for that matter weren’t) recorded. If “fresh” is a word you can apply to the industrial gothic style. The light show is perfect, keeping the band clouded in smoke, illuminating them just enough to reveal Eldritch’s sense of humour with his florescent yellow & orange shirt illuminated in the black light after discarding his generic white sweater. A lot of unrecorded material I don’t know forms a backbone for a set peppered with classics from my musically formative years. This is a set that is rock n rollicly correct.

Those who chose to stay rather than head out for a good spot for Coldplay were rewarded with This Corrosion followed by Temple of Love to finish which is, I’ll wager, a better gift than anything Coldplay will give tonight.

Photos by 熊沢泉
More photos HERE

It takes two

I was shocked–shocked–when I showed up for Amadou and Mariam’s Field of Heaven show Friday evening and found the venue very sparsely attended. Hadn’t anyone heard how awesome this Malian couple was? Superstars in Africa and later an equally huge draw in Europe, they are veterans of a certain musical style almost as prominent as James Brown. Their professionalism precedes them, or it should, so why the low turnout? Continue Reading…

Ron will not start a riot

The Canadian singer-songwriter Ron Sexsmith appeared frequently at the first few Fuji Rock Festivals in Naeba, and at perhaps the first one a female member of the web team who didn’t know who he was met him by accident at the World Food Court one night and they talked. Later, a few of us noticed and told her who her interlocutor was. She was surprised. “We talked for about fifteen minutes and he never mentioned once that he was a musician.”

Sexsmith’s unassuming personality is central to his high reputation as a songwriter’s songwriter, though it doesn’t do much to his reputation as a performer. Probably the most exciting thing about his show at the Field of Heaen was his boldly striped jacket. Backed by a tasteful three-piece group, he ran through almost two dozen of his three-and-a-half-minute songs, almost all of which use common cliches as titles: “Hands of Time,” “Get in Line,” “Thinking Out Loud,” “Hard Bargain.” It might be too much to expect Japanese audiences to “get” Sexsmith’s clever word play and sad sense of the world, but they definitely get his way with a melody, and there were a lot more people fixed intently on his show than you might expect. The guy definitely has fans here (Smash, the Fuji organizer, once released one of his albums on its short-lived boutique label), and in the late 90s he used to tour Japan almost yearly. For some reason, he doesn’t any more, though he’s continued to release albums fairly regularly. In a way, his professionalism got the best of him during the gig. He clearly wanted to communicate with the audience but had to fall back on other cliches. (”It’s great to be here,” “I hope you like it…”)

The need for a connection was so acute that during one song, he sang the line, “heavy clouds hanging around/the sun refuses to shine,” and pointed his guitar at the grey sky, and though the audience reacted, it seemed it was not an acknowledgement of the dodgy weather but rather a performance tic. He did the guitar-point thing several times afterward.

But he was definitely affected by the reaction. He dedicated his last song to Japan, which he said “has had a tough year. Please know we’re pulling for you.” The song is “Former Glory,” as in “your eyes will return to their former glory.” Being able to overcome adversity is something Ron Sexsmith knows about.

photo: Julen Esteban-Pretel

Clap, you suckers

As demonstrated by the name of his main gig, Super Furry Animals, Gruff Rhys doesn’t see much point to being a professional musician unless he can fool around with the formula, make fun of it even. Dressed unseasonably in a corduroy jacket, flannel shirt, and watch cap, Rhys opened his set at the Red Marquee beating the air with a pair of wands that produced a kind of keening swoop when he put more muscle into it. Later, his guitarist played penny whistle and the keyboardist made bird noises. In fact, one could call Rhys’s voice a kind of special effect: Gordon Lightfoot’s nasally baritone boom as commandeered by the sensibility of Ray Davies. Continue Reading…