Everyone experienced a very unique and completely different festival from past years due to holding the festival under extremely special circumstances of the COVID-19 Pandemic. Those differences were seen and hidden in various aspects of the festival, even before the grounds opened to everyone. Even while on the bullet train (shinkansen) to Echigo-Yuzawa Station or while waiting for the shuttle bus to the venue, people are usually happy and chatting. But this year, everyone had few words to exchange. Everyone lined up in an orderly manner at a reasonable distance from each other, with only the goal to reach Naeba. In order to conduct this year’s Fuji Rock Festival, the infection control guidelines were communicated to all staff, related parties, and to the customers. It was clear in every single person’s actions that they were thoroughly trying to follow these guidelines.

The yagura (Japanese Bon Dance tower) that is familiar to all and that is centrally located at Oasis was nowhere to be found this year. The usual scene of people dancing in a circle around it while loudly blasting the local anthem “Naeba Ondo” didn’t exist, either, on the eve of this year’s Fuji Rock. We didn’t get to document the 10-year tradition at Red Marquee of people shouting “I’m home” in response to MC’s call of “Welcome Back!”. Thursday night, the eve of the festival, is usually the first peak of the Fujirockers excitement blasting their joy and happiness of reaching one of the most precious events of a year after the long-awaited time. Even with a two year gap since the last time being at the festival in Naeba, they kept quiet and contained their eagerness.

Photo by MASAMI YASUE

Although we were informed officially that there would be no festival eve party as usual, the one thing that filled me with joy were the fireworks, which nobody knew were happening this year. Other years, the crowds would cheer at the sign of the beginning of the festival, but there were no such auditory reactions this time. However, I heard stories of people gasping or shedding some tears when the first firework burst this year. Overall, it appears like most people were solemnly looking up at that night sky full of fireworks. There was some applause but at the quiet venue, only the sound and light of the fireworks echoed; a scene right in front of our eyes that seemed to symbolize the “Special Fuji Rock”. Perhaps everyone understood it wasn’t easy to get to this point.

Influenced by the fact that, in the early stages of COVID-19 chaos, some clusters and spread of the infection came from concert venues and clubs, those places became a target to be avoided and, along with the government campaign to the public insisting “no activities of nonessential and unnecessary”, even the mass media started taking the live concerts and entertainment as a symbol of the things to be avoided. Many venues were forced to close down, not only depriving musicians and theater people of their work, but also lighting and sound technicians losing their jobs as well. Furthermore, festivals were being postponed or canceled left and right. Of course, we have to prevent the infection with no doubt, but at the same time, it’s undeniable that music and its culture are indispensable elements to our lives. This includes festival culture as well. In particular, Fuji Rock Festival gave birth to such a culture in Japan. It massively influenced a way of life to festival goers called “Fujirockers” as well as to all other small and large-scale festivals all over Japan. Not only did the organizers, but related organizations and local people along with Fujirockers believed that festival culture must not end – it has to survive and keep on going.

That wasn’t all. When Fuji Rock Festival announced the postponement last year, we heard rumors that the host town had asked if it could still somehow be held. The reason being, the economic impact produced by Fuji Rock. Its cancelation would have an immeasurable impact on the local community. It couldn’t be denied that if it was canceled two years in a row, the economic impact could have been devastating. This was another reason why the locals and organizers started looking for ways to safely host the festival. As a result, they decided to establish thorough infection prevention measures. This presented the spectators with some inconvenient and stubborn infection prevention guidelines. In addition, the audience capacity was reduced to about 25% of the original. As a result, the maximum number of people per day was just under 14,000, which is almost the same as filling the Nippon Budokan for a sporting event.

Is this even profitable? Surprisingly, the organizer supported ticket refunds for those who were worried about participating due to infection problems or who were not in good physical condition. Furthermore they even contacted ticket buyers and shipped antigen test kits to those who wished to take a test, which resulted in the majority partaking in testing. However, this was not good enough for the organizers who were aiming for 100% certainty and safety for all. Rumors have it that organizers ran east to west to collect a large number of antigen test kits needed. In addition to the medical tent inside the venue, a large number of medical personnel and three private emergency transport vehicles staked out in the back, ready to respond to any emergency. All staff members had to undergo PCR tests to prove that they were negative or they were not allowed to enter Naeba. In addition, long-term staff at the festival site have to repeat antigen testing on a regular basis. Even if one already entered the venue, they would be quickly ousted from the venue if a close contact was reported positive back home and without proving negative with a new test, they would be able to return. It was not only the spectators but also all the staff who had to partake in the daily temperature check in order to enter the venue. Some news sources used the term “high alert” and that’s exactly how the environment was at the festival.

Photo by KentaKUMEI

We, Fujirockers, worried that in the worst case, that Fuji Rock Festival this year would turn out to be nothing like the ones in previous history. Needless to say, the charm of Fuji Rock Festival is not in the line-up of the acts but the vibes of freedom and guarantee of independence that all of the attendees could feel & share. However, there was still an aspect where our hands were tied to follow necessary rules in order to control the infection. Plus, with Japan’s borders closed to non-residents due to COVID-19, the festival couldn’t host any acts from overseas. The UK team, the main force of the field direction and decoration, could not come to Japan, either. Considering all those factors, Fuji Rock would appear more like an outdoor concert surrounded by greenery rather than a festival in its true sense. In addition, alcohol sales were banned in the venue, and smoking was prohibited except for a few tiny areas located far from the main part of the festival site. Many vendors that have been familiar faces since Fuji Rock began in 1997 canceled this year. Above all, many familiar faces who have always enjoyed our annual gathering decided not to come.

All of the people involved in the festival and its organization were forced to make heartbreaking decisions and choices. Especially when the number of people infected with the new COVID-19 strains started to increase rapidly in the major cities, there were conflicting voices bubbling up all over. Some echoed that the festival “needed to be canceled,” and others pleaded to “conduct it somehow”. Various voices were heard from the artists and performers themselves; those who planned to appear and those who painfully chose not to. Whether they ultimately participated or not, I pay tribute to their involvement and seriously taking Fuji Rock into consideration. I extend my gratitude to each and every one of you who came, and to every individual who decided not to come. A shoutout to those who voiced concern and to those who voiced support, the artists who performed and the artists who declined. No matter where everyone was mentally or physically, I believe that Fuji Rock has become a big presence in many people’s lives. For that, I know that whatever decision you made was not an easy one, so I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

At the festival grounds, we were all overwhelmed by the audience who respectfully followed the health and safety regulations put in place to prevent infection. I didn’t see anyone without a mask on, except in the smoking or food areas. What I realized when I was eating was how quiet it was as almost no conversations were heard. It seems painful to follow the cautionary note that says, “please eat quietly”. I saw friends meeting up, wanting to shake hands or hug each other but hesitantly opt for elbow and fist bumps as greetings instead. Conversations happened with masks on, but no one was talking loudly. I also witnessed people taking a look around to make sure no one was close by when simply taking a sip of water.

Normally, there is only an MC for the Green Stage, but this year, there was one at every stage as a means for ongoing communication with the audience before and after artist appearances.

“Please be sure to wear your mask that covers your nose and do not speak out loud. Check the markers on the ground to keep a safe distance. In front of the stage, please do not bring in food or drinks except water bottles for hydration.”

MCs were given manuals and obliged to make the same announcement to the audience every time. It was, after all, to prevent infection.

These were unprecedented sights at past festivals and live shows. No matter how incredible the performance was, barely any cheers were heard, only applause and clapping. Regardless, the positive energy from the crowd was felt on stage. That energy was reciprocated by the artists themselves, who shared in the same struggles as the audience to participate. Those feelings made for extra passionate and emotional connections with one another. It didn’t matter how many were in attendance, even if it was a small stage with only a handful of audience members. Many others would be able to witness the performances later on on YouTube, but to witness it in person was something else. There was an unspeakable energy that was uniquely born at this year’s festival.

Photo by MITCH IKEDA

Photo by Eriko Kondo

In a rare appearance, Chief Producer General Hidaka stood on the Green Stage twice. On the first day, he stood on stage to announce that two friends who were major supporters and comrades working together with Fuji Rock had passed away. Second time was with Denki Groove, who were the headliners on Sunday. When I spoke to him the following day, he said that what he felt on stage from the audience was so strong. It was “the enthusiasm of them trying to support Fuji Rock”. What he felt was not only the fact that everyone was respectfully following the health and safety guidance, but it was also the reproduction of the miracle that took place in Naeba back in 1999. That year was the result of the Fujirockers’ last hope of a festival location after the disasters of 1997. In 1999, there was almost no trash when the venue closed – same at the end of this year. The iPledge team, which supports the Trash Zero Navigation initiative every year, said that they barely had any trash to collect nor work to do except for managing the garbage tents around the festival.

According to an official statement released by the organizers on August 24th, after the festival ended, there were “no positive cases confirmed at the venue during the festival”. However, that’s not the end. They went on to state: “We will continue to collect information over time and report the results to everyone again, which will lead to improvements in infection control measures at future festivals”. It may be too early to reflect on everything, but everyone involved in keeping the festival safe, the locals, and everyone who ventured out from all over the country to those who chose not to — we, Fujirockers, send our deepest gratitude to say that we have been able to successfully reach this point.

Fuji Rock has faced many tests and turmoil in the past. In its first year in 1997, a major typhoon struck, leaving everyone in a dire situation. However, its first major test in survival was in 1999 when the venue was moved to Naeba. Attendees demonstrated compassion and love for one another against the prejudice that “rock festivals are dangerous,” by proving a little “miracle” to not only the venue but also to the hotels, guesthouses, and to the whole town of Naeba by not leaving a trace of trash or damage behind. This created the tradition of “cultivating festivals along with the locals”. Since then, Fuji Rock has endured and grown with many challenges such as storms or the heaviest ever rain recorded in the area. But this time, it faced an unprecedented viral and global crisis. As mentioned above, it is too early to draw a definite conclusion regarding COVID-19 at the festival. But to all those involved in Fuji Rock, with the love and effort, we made a “miracle” happen of an infection free festival even under the pandemic. There is no doubt that we had a historical Fuji Rock; nobody could and would ignore that fact.

We hear many differentiating opinions and ways of thinking within the music world that is causing some divide. But I believe that it’s natural for festival and music lovers to recognize diversity and to respect and accept each other’s actions and choices. I do hope that we can use this year’s experience as a basis for next year’s festival. At this point, no one can predict how long the effects of this virus will last, but I do hope that one day, we can get together at this same place in Naeba again without worrying about it. With that hope, I would like to close the curtain on this year’s Express.

Lastly, I would like to give my utmost appreciation to the staff who made major moves during this difficult situation. Masks and face shields given, it was not easy to report and cover the weekend while consciously keeping a safe distance. I also thank the staff members who operated the Fujirockers lounge by creating additional and well-prepared infection control measures. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

Below are the staff who helped deliver the festival this year.

Japanese Team: http://fujirockexpress.net/21
– Photographers: Ryota Mori, Yoshitaka Kogawa, Keiko Hirakawa, Yusuke Kitamura, MITCH IKEDA, Arimoto Shinya, MASAMI YASUE, KentaKUMEI, Ayaka Shirai, HARA MASAMI, Omiso, suguta, Takanobu Shiga, Tetsuro Sato
– Writers: Ryohei Maruyama, Kohei Abe, Yuka Ishizumi, ataso, ayano kajiwara, Hitoshi Abe, Eriko Kondo, Nobuyuki Ikeda, Takafumi Miura, IZUMI AZUMA

English Team: http://fujirockexpress.net/21e/
– Writers: Laurier Tiernan, Jonathan Cooper, Nina Cataldo

Fuji Rockers Lounge: Mika Iimori, obacchi, Fujihara Yamato

Website production & update: Tomoki Hiranuma (Program Developer), Daisuke Sakaue (Design), Yuichi Hazama

Special Thanks: Tetsuya Mitsuishi, Shuhei Wakabayashi, Masaya Morita, Park Baker, all the staff who worked hard to protect the audience, and the audience who overcame the challenges and conveyed the splendour of a festival.

Producer: Koichi Hanafusa

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fujirockers.org is a community site for Fujirockers, people who love Fuji Rock. It is rooted in BBS of the official site of Fuji Rock Festival, originally produced by Koichi Hanafusa. In 1997 straight after the first festival was a disaster hit by a typhoon, BBS left and became a fully independent website with support and cooperation of the organizers. We publish our own coverage not only on Fuji Rock Festival but anything related to domestic and overseas festivals and their cultures. During the annual Fuji Rock Festival, we operate Fuji Rock Express to deliver unique, exciting, breaking, and up-to-date news straight from the venue.

*Please note : As we are not a part of the organizers of Fuji Rock Festival, we are not in position to respond to any inquiries about booking, press or ticketing as such. Please visit:
http://fujirockers.org/

*This is perhaps the first ever English translation of the closing article written by Koichi Hanafusa, the founder of fujirockers.org and the producer of Fuji Rock Express. A Japanese version is written at the end of every Fuji Rock Express. This translation was done by Nina Cataldo.

1. Shintaro Sakamoto

I love this guy. Absolutely love him. Yura Yura Teikoku was one of the first bands that really got me into Japanese rock music, and one of my great regrets in life has been never quite being able to make seeing one of their shows fit my schedule. Then they broke up. Tragic. But I’m not entirely convinced I would trade a solo show like his Friday one for a chance to go back in time to see Yura-Tei perform. I might, but I’m not sure. It was that good. The set was weird, funky, sexy, dreamlike and totally did things for me that few performers do. Totally dug it, fantastic set.

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2. Gezan

I have been a fan of these guys since they were just just little punk pups, and to see how far they have come almost makes me proud. Their 2019 performance was one of my favorite of the year, with its raw creativity and energy, but it was nothing compared to what they brought to the table this year. It truly felt like stumbling across a ritual to an eldritch god, just with a lot more guitar and a lot more rapping. The same amount of screaming I think. If you haven’t had a chance to see Tribe of Discord, the 2019 documentary film about them, I suggest checking it out. Also, of course, get yourself to a Gezan show if you’ve never been! You won’t regret it. Or at least you won’t soon forget it.

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3. Number Girl

Maaaan, these guys absolutely rocked. I was in Hokkaido when their first post-reunion Rising Sun gig was slated to happen, and when their day got cancelled by a typhoon I saw the utter dejection on the faces of people who had traveled from all over the country just to see them perform. And I can see why. They played as fast and loud and aggressively as they did in their heyday, and it was kind of magical to see a band risen from the grave sound as fresh as they did in 2002.

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4. Susumu Hirasawa

I really like P-Model, especially their early stuff, but tracking Hirasawa’s musical evolution since then is fascinating. The music is always great, but the ambition of what he does with his shows is stunning. Seriously, using a Tesla coil on stage like an instrument? Who comes up with an idea like that? Well, Hirasawa does. It was a fun, weird show to end a fun, Weird festival.

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5. The People

I’ll be honest, I wasn’t sure if things were going to go off smoothly this year regarding safety measures. I wasn’t convinced people were going to follow social distancing or masking guideless, much less no alcohol ones. I was mistaken. People were genuinely considerate and really, really followed the rules. Even though trying to get a band out for an encore without being able to ‘woo’, or bumping into an old friend and having to just wave awkwardly from a distance, or drinking yet another Pocari Sweat because apparently beverages are just for hydration this year, made for a strange experience, it put my heart a little more at ease. I generally do not like saying things like this, but I don’t think this sort of thing could have worked anywhere but Japan. So thank you everyone, for being so mindful and respectful. And thank you for allowing us all to enjoy some live music, an essential element of life that we have all been lacking for too long.

RUNNER UP – FINALBY( )

I have never seen anything quite like that before, nor do I think I ever will again. I’m also not sure I’ll be able to look at traffic cones the same way.

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The band themselves have evolved from a raw and wacky deep punk-rock band into something altogether more mature, compelling and wonderfully confusing. The leader of the whole circus, Mahi to the People, has become a maestro of madness as Gezan has grown more and more artistically ambitious.

Their set began with the stage bathed in the band’s signature red, and a refrain of tribal wailing, before revealing the set’s two first surprises – a brief flurry of bagpipes and a full backing choir like red dressed cult members. And Mahi on atonal trumpet wearing an antlered shamanistic shroud adorned with three glowing red eyes. See, told ya it was gonna be wild.

Mahi bark-rapped his way through Chuken, and it was everything the crowd could do to obey social distancing procedures and not erupt into a wild moshing frenzy. Punctuated shouts from the choir and staccato sitar-esque work from the guitars capped the whole experience off as the start of a weird, mystic journey – world music, but unclear from what world.

Their second song, Extacy, rolled on the beat, adding a layer of trance inducing deep synth bass, punctuated by more guttural animal chanting from the choir. Mahi’s repeated phrase ‘I don’t care’ seemed to be a vocal repudiation of all the conventions he was tearing apart. The set propelled on into Replicant, without even a moment’s pause between songs. Hearts were racing and the tension was at nearly unbearable levels like the nightmare phase of a mescaline trip, and we were only ten minutes in. Phew.

Enough time had passed without anything totally insane happening, so time for a short, demented cover of Get Up, Stand Up, or at least the refrain repeated over droning guitar and pounding tribal drums. The following song, Tokyo, saw Mahi remove his headdress to reveal his beautiful, straight, hip length hair, and things relaxed (comparatively) for a precious few moments. For the next song, Suiten, the choir held sustained notes like Tuvan throat singers for the first third of the anthemic ballad before joining Mahi like a gospel choir for the chorus. Despite the deep weirdness of it all, it seemed somehow to all make sense in the context Gezan framed.

At this point the band paused to address the crowd and take a breath. After all, they are only human (presumably). The choir departed, and Gezan carried on at a more reasonable headcount. This was also when the rain started absolutely pouring. Perhaps the weather gods demanded a bigger sound from the band? Or perhaps they were upset that the song they chose to return from their break with was No God? Hard to say, divine powers can be inscrutable at times.

After a few dabbling tunes, Body Odd saw Gezan go full on strange rap rock, complete with guest vocals to help Mahi scream rap his way through a chaotic tornado of discordant hardcore. After a lengthy talk about the present and future state of the world, the band ended the set in the most unpredictable way possible, with a fairly straight-forward tune. Didn’t see that one coming! Not to say that DNA isn’t a great song, by many measures its their most popular, just that it feels a little bit like just a song compared to the rest of their set. Perhaps we all needed a little comedown, and after all it was still a great song performed by a great band.

But then it happened, already a few minutes over time (unheard of), Mahi pulled his choir back out and a took on a sweet, tame, nearly acapella version of Linda Lilinda. It was a strangely innocent way to close after such a visceral set. But, of course, it was very Gezan to do a very strange thing for an encore. ‘I don’t care’ indeed.

Around the world, Sunday is traditionally a day set aside by many for communion with higher powers. For those at the Red Marquee, that happened to be the animistic deity, bathed in red, which is GEZAN.

The scene – stage bathed in blue smoke, a spray of green lasers fanning up from the front of the stage, the lightning bolts off a Tesla coil providing bass notes, and a silver haired mad scientist approaches stage front, guitar in tow. He plays the lasers like a harp, plucking the beams from the air. He sings, like a restrained German opera singer. An electronic violinist and contrabass duo with slick black suits and horrific black boxes streaked in red for heads appear. The guitar is struck, clear distorted notes ringing out. The performance has begun, Cold Song. What a way to start a set.

In no time he was off to Enola, a thundering electronic banger. Theramin and strings layered around the song, which saw the crowd raise their fingers to Hirasawa as though he were a 23rd century despot sent back in time to rule over us primitives. It is hard not to have B-movie science-fiction imagery come to mind when the performance is as evocative and theatrical as this one was.

Beacon saw the set take a brighter turn, a joyful and bouncing electronic romp, with only the slightest hint of darkness around the edges. Dancing in Frankenstein’s laboratory. This song as with many others in the set benefited greatly from the judiciously sporadic use of Hirasawa’s guitar to punctuate, not to dominate. It is strange when an electric guitar under the influence of a great many effects is the most organic sound in a performance.

A great deal of respect is owed to Hirasawa’s otherworldly backing duo, EJIN (the aforementioned members with black box heads) for their multi-instrumental prowess, cycling through a variety of instruments as though there’s none they couldn’t play. Respect also owed to Hirasawa himself, who despite apparent early set equipment issues with his guitars was able to forge on without missing a beat.

The laser triggered, lightning hurling Tesla coil returned for the amazing Antimonesia , a song which let Hirasawa’s distinctive vocal style appear without much modulation or effect. Under all the spectacle there was a very real and very compelling singer and songwriter. This song felt like getting a look at the beating heart of the machine, especially with his slightly atonal, slightly arrhythmic, blood-pumping guitar solo.

Midway through the set Parade, the theme from the film Paprika, rolled in like a circus train. It thundered and stomped, finally erupting in the fanfare of its joyous chorus, hands flung to the air as if on cue. It may have been the highlight of the whole set, if not the whole night.

The next song saw the Tesla coil take musical lead as Hirasawa left his instruments aside to address the crowd as a lecturer or subdued televangelist. The crowd responded enthusiastically. It was strange and stirring to see what a cult of Hirasawa would look like. At least they would probably listen to good music. Further in, Big Brother injected a shot of adrenaline into the crowd with its fast tempo and hard edge, bodies moving, synths crunching and bent guitar notes soaring.

While they ended their set with the charming Timeline no Owari, the encore provided the real ending the audience wanted. Niwashi King was one the crowd had been hoping for, a stirring and hopeful anthem. And a perfect way to end the set.

Japan doesn’t have many performers with histories as long or creative voices as unique as Susumu Hirasawa’s. His is a sound that is instantly recognizable, and the stage persona he has crafted for himself fits it perfectly. Who knows what next creation this mad scientist has waiting to be released from his lab once he gives it a spark of electricity.

I do not know how to describe what I have seen and heard. I don’t think words are appropriate for a performance like this. I believe it is beyond the expressive ability of words without the visual and the auditory here. Sorry. To give you an example, here is a short list of things that happened:

Traffic cones triggering light and white noise – Yamantaka EYE emerging from a white dome with yet another traffic cone – these cones being swung by EYE wildly for extended periods of time – live projected video of the events on stage re-rendered as bodies of white noise or psychedelic perversions of the true visual – traffic cones still lit from within placed on rotating platforms – touch sensitive colored light pads on the dome being manipulated by EYE using traffic cones…

The list could go on, but I’ll stop there. It was something to be seen and felt, all set to a mind-melting and classically EYE accompaniment of static, distortion and screaming. This is what you would experience in one of David Lynch’s nightmares.

I apologize that I cannot describe this performance any more than this. To do so would cause it to make even less sense.

I can say this with conviction, however – it was amazing.

If Yamantaka EYE is involved in a project, you should be interested. And this is one of the most inventive and crazily ambitious things he has ever done.

They started off with the mid-tempo jam Mother, all underlaid with Moeka Shiotsuka’s droning, sometimes dissonant, and definitely distorted guitar and Hiroa Fukuda’s stripped down drumming, bringing to mind some early Yo la Tengo tracks. Draped over it all were Shiotsuka’s charming, breathy vocals and the supporting vocal harmonies from Fukuda and bassist Yurika.

Further into their set the band introduced a little more shuffle into their beat, and threw down some more conventional bluesy J-alt-rock tunes. Fine songs and all, but they were missing some of the distorted bite which made the earlier portion of their set really hold together. Then again, one of these songs was 1999, their most popular, so maybe there is something to be said for the appeal of their more straight ahead pop-rock fare.

After slightly shy song break in the middle of their act, during which they seemed to be generally excited to be at Fuji Rock, they came back to their set with renewed vigor. Ghost was a meandering ballad, with plenty of quiet to offset the occasional rush of noise. This is what they do best, and this is the sound they feel the most comfortable in. Still pop-y, but a little darker, with hard swells counterpointing the sweetness of the vocals. The next song, Powers, also saw them make interesting decisions with chord changes and melody, distinguishing the song from the more predictable J-rock fare it could have been. Let’s hope the band continues to mine this kind of vein in the future.

There is a kind of appeal to Hitsujibungaku’s sound. It is fairly safe, but it gives the occasional illusion of danger, like a good rollercoaster should. They are still a band on the rise, and as their artistic voice grows more confident their performances will become all the more compelling for it.

The team was also responsible for Fuji Rock’s 2019 boardwalk illumination, though it went largely unappreciated due to long closures during the heavy typhoon that hit the festival. This year, however, the team is back and and the generators are running for the whole weekend, though nighttime is when the lights really shine.

Just because it is dark doesn’t mean there isn’t beauty and enchantment hiding in these forests. Make sure to give thanks to Sun Effects Japan for taking the time and putting in the effort to illuminate this magic for us as you take a walk on the boardwalk this evening for the last night of another spellbinding Fuji Rock.

Even though the set started a bit later than scheduled, it was well worth it for the extra time they had for sound-checking, as the levels for such an intimate show in such a large space were immaculate. Aoba’s choice to perform acoustic with a string quintet set her performance apart from all others at a rock-centric Fuji Rock, creating a mood more suited to a forest glade bathed in moonlight than a sun-soaked mountain festival.

Her music was haunting and dreamlike, her voice like delicate threads of a spider web caught in the wind. This was beautifully accompanied by the unhurried notes of her classical guitar. She is an artist who didn’t need gimmicks or easy pop tricks. The music wasn’t anyone but hers, though we were lucky to have her share it with us.

For the most part her quintet remained in the background, adding accents and rich layers to her performance without being obtrusive. In many significant ways Aoba was acting as a solo performer, albeit with accompaniment. This is not to say, however, that her support musicians were in any way lacking. On the contrary, the players were exceptional, all added interesting sounds and flourishes beyond what a normal string quintet is normally expected to do. The contrabass specifically provided a lot of gravity to the sparse and quiet playing of Aoba’s guitar, and the viola player was able to create some beautifully strange and ethereal sounds out of string and bow.

It was undoubtedly one of the most relaxing shows of the festival, and also one of the most beautiful. It was proof that sometimes you don’t need to rock to captivate an audience. As an audience member sometimes all you need is to feel like something fragile and beautiful is being shared directly with you.

From simple magic tricks where half the fun is the way he deliberately ‘accidentally’ shows you what the gimmick is, to legitimately impressive feats like swallowing balloons and regurgitating signed playing cards, it is the little touches that make him special. They are quirks that are hard to put into words, but fortunately his facial expressions alone are worth a thousand of them.

He and the other Daidogei crew have been been bringing their street-performer skills to the festival all weekend, and Masato Moja’s routine behind the White Stage at the old Gypsy Avalon grounds were a festival goer’s last chance to catch a little bit of what he has to offer. If you missed him this year, be sure not to the next. The sense of childlike wonder and childish humor inside of you will thank me.

The set started big and bold, Ohzora leading his four piece group slung with guitar and tucked firmly stage left. The choice not to place himself square in the center implying that the music should be the focus, not the artist himself. This first song of the set, Enshi no Contralto, had the swell and yearning of Japanese pop-rock, but the frequent unexpected directions the song took and Ohzora’s guitar work in particular gave it a more experimental and harder edge. From there the set played not only with different sounds via synth and effects, but different musical styles as well. At times nearly danceable, up-tempo and playful, at others melancholic and restrained, the movements within songs were stitched together with the hand of an accomplished artist. Each song felt like a cohesive whole made of disparate parts – not quite the real sound collages of his recorded work, but a good reinterpretation for the stage.

He took time to let songs breathe, and the set felt full but not at all rushed, despite its short 40 minute runtime. Toward the end he really caught his stride with songs like the energetic Jyuugo, with its sprinkling of sounds and effects, and the slow burn build of set closer Halo.

It would be appropriate to say that the vibe was reminiscent of a junior team organic Cornelius, or a plugged-in Shugo Tokumaru with less circus. It was hard to say if it was experimental art pop or pop experimenting with art, and it was a slight departure from his recorded sound, but on the whole the set was engaging and, at moments, very enjoyable.

In the two years since his 2019 Rookie a Go-Go performance and the release of his first EP, Ohzora Kimishima’s career and art has seen a lot of evolution. Here’s hoping he continues to grow into the great potential he already shows.