Robert Smith then joins Gabriel Reeves on the guitar, his playing style soothing and solitude filled among the banks of keyboard sound. Robert Smith is every inch the tortured genius; exaggerated gothic makeup, wild hair, piercing eyes and a steadfast voice full of fully remembered sorrow. Every moment is utterly engrossing drama, whether it’s him turning his back on the audience to eulogize about a cheating lost love or ripping out a guitar line full of fear..

After 30 minutes, the set begins to increase in energy with a more instrumental rock and roll number. The guitars exchange, kiss and harmonize. The plaintive opera unwinding on stage changes to a more urging, surging tone with anguished anger riding over the previous apathy. Each lyric is sighed tormentedly from Robert Smith’s lipstick stained mouth, while muted guitar accents it.

The band is very much a supporting act for the dramatic presence of Robert Smith but each have a moment to shine, with pummeling drums, ambient keyboard sections, raging basslines and harsh guitar solos. The second half of the marathon set sees the band’s more recent hits brought out, much to the delight of the crowd. There was even a few reliefs from the mood of gloom, as more happier numbers were rolled out. This was especially true of the 10 song encore.

And like that, the almost 3 hour set was finished. With the 36 songs in total presented in roughly chronological order, it was an amazing chance to see the development of the band over almost 40 years now. The gradual replacement of the mournful atmosphere of early pieces with more self-aware anger was the most obvious aspect to newcomers but true Cure fans were in rapture as the history of one of the world’s finest alternative bands was presented on stage.

Their second song, debut hit single “Little Lion Man” starts in and already it and the four handsome horsemen are a hit with their fans at Fuji Rock. Four fellows up front and no drums as yet, but you don’t miss a percussionist since the song has such a strong drive and string-based rhythm.

Then to fill out the sound, some new fellows come out to assist in the rhythm section drumming and shaking, two fiddlers on “White Blank Page” as well, and before you know it there is a horn section (introduced as Nick, Dave and Rich) popping out of the woodwork for “Winter Winds,” piano on some, and Mumford himself hops on the drums, “C’mon Fuji Rock!” These guys with just two albums under their belts are world-class performers. What energy and intensity, wow.

Romping, foot stomping, raw harmonies, the whole nine, first Skinny Lister and now Mumford and Sons representing in full force and beckoning appraisal of the London folk revival scene as it explodes on stages round the world with new blood, and carrying on centuries old musical traditions with it.

Those holding out for “The Cave” are rewarded, and chant along “I will hold on hope” with reckless abandon.

The intensity of “I Gave You All” and “Thistle and Weeds” sweeps across the crowd and fades into the stoic pine trees beyond, seamless as Mumford and Sons music really fits just right in the mountains.

Consider a moment you don’t understand the poetry-laden lyrics in English and just feel the weight and emotion in these songs, a state in which much of the Japanese audience may very well be, lacking the language skills necessary to grip the literary meanings and metaphors. That said, most tracks off Sigh No More, an album having gone so many times platinum whose songs bear such triumphant overtones, seem to speak volumes to the human soul, regardless what language you speak.

“Roll Away Your Stone” sees a return to the four core members, stage front and evenly spaced, each rocking their own pieces wildly which all fit into the puzzle perfectly.

Next the guys invite some friends to the stage to help sing “Awake My Soul.” HAIM, who played in the Red Marquee come out to share the mic and lend a rich and tender harmony the way only female vocals can. And who knows, maybe we witnessed a little innocent musical match making right before our very eyes? (I am just speculating for the sake of it here, Fuji Rock Express is not a tabloid.)

“Kore wa nihon hajimete totemo tanoshii,” says Mumford in an excellent go at Japanese, as this is in fact the young bands first time here. What a great introduction then on the biggest stage of the biggest festival in the country! Although, I really think their set should have been a lot longer. In hindsight now, I think headliners on the same stage The Cure should have given up thirty minutes or an hour for the four horsemen of Mumford and Sons to get into a gnarly sunset groove.

While Sigh No More is an incredible album, hearing some more new material and giving the guys room to jam out with their folksy bluegrass roots would only have added to the performance; maybe next year?

Rock’n roll is the ultimate present-in-the-moment art form, but it’s ridiculous to claim that the people who boogied and cheered to Johnson’s music weren’t thinking of the future. So of course you look for subtexts in the songs. “Why do you want to leave.” “I’m getting tired.” No, those are just lyrics about the usual blues. The thing is we all face death in our own way, and whatever concessions Johnson has made, dwelling on his own future isn’t one of them, and his fan base in Japan was already large and dedicated when the diagnosis came in. He can’t be anything but the guitar slinger that made him beloved here, with his twitchy stage movements, his bug-eyed stare, his machine gun gestures. His great bass player Norman Watt-Roy stands there, legs apart, mouth open, fingers scampering over the fret board like nervous mice. What a tableau, and if the audience’s appreciation was intensified by the subtext, it didn’t take anything away from the performance or their enjoyment of it–and Johnson’t enjoyment in presenting it. He didn’t express anything except his usual appreciation, and when the effusiveness forced an encore, he played Chuck Berry’s “Bye Bye Johnny,” waving at the crowd on the chorus, the entire field of humanity waving back. Not goodbye, just recognition that we’re all alive here at this moment and that’s the miracle. Johnson thanked the crowd and also thanked “Mr. Sun” for “shining down on us.” Actually, he should have thanked the clouds for not releasing precipitation, but thanking the sun made more sense. It’s the mark of a true optimist.

In keeping with the “wet” part of their moniker, it was fittingly lightly raining as the band kicked into their opening cut.  Chiba and Imai both played guitar and Nakamura handled drumming duties.  Dressed in a leopard print jacket, Imai was looking especially rock ‘n’ roll first thing in the morning.  Turning in a set of bare bones garage rock, Chiba’s ragged vocals added an extra rawness to the music.  With three rock veterans onstage, The Golden Wet Fingers sounded tight and had little trouble getting early arrivees excited for the final day of Fuji Rock ‘13.

This is the set list she played:

1. Cosmogony

2. Hunter

3. Thunderbolt

4. Moon

5. Crystalline

6. Hollow

7. Hidden Place

8. Heirloom

9. One Day

10. Jóga

11. Pagan Poetry

12. Army of Me

13. Mutual Core

14. Hyperballad

(mixed with “Freak” by LFO)

15. Pluto

16. Náttúra

Encore:

17. Óskasteinar

18. Declare Independence

Visually it was all very impressive, with dubstep producer Johnathan Gooch positioned in the middle of what looked like a gigantic moustache that projected images in independent panels. Gooch, who is also known as Spor from his days in partnership with pioneering drum ‘n’ bass label Renegade Hardware, played some bangers that had inebriated punters throwing their arms around in jubilation. However, he saved his best bits for the tracks he wound back from full throttle. These he let simmer over the sound system until the less intoxicated members of the audience had no other choice but to abandon any resistance they might have had and join the party. And once that was done, there was no turning back…