Day Three: in which our hero is definitely not in Tokyo

It’s Friday afternoon and I’m sitting in Starbucks chilling before getting into pre-game before night four of five, the last night of The Almighty’s tour of Japan. I spent the morning walking all over the city, visiting Kawasaki Daishi (big-ass temple) and Shinshuen gardens.

Yesterday I caught the shinkansen through from Osaka to Kawasaki and so very nearly ended up in the same train as the band. As my train pulled up to the platform, The Almighty and their entourage appeared behind me, clearly planning to catch the train after mine, sitting in the same carriage. I had to make a split second decision between trying to meet the band in a dignified way and therefore missing my train, shouting incoherently from my place in the queue, catching my train but looking like a nutter, or saying nothing, getting on the train and ruing my bad luck in booking the 10:30 Nozomi, not the 10:39. But for that split second decision on the website ("yeah, I can make that one), I could have been in the same carriage as them for the next two hours. Oh well, I’d probably have made a twat of myself anyway.

The gig was awesome, much better than the night before. The sound was better—whether a result of the venue being better or first night teething problems being ironed out, I don’t know—and the crowd was better, much more up for it, loud, bouncy, happy. Still not on Cavalera levels but it’s a different demographic, it seems.

I was really impressed with the venue, Club Citta. It’s in the middle of a semi-pedestrianised shopping and dining area, surrounded by bars, restaurants, Vietnamese food trucks, all manner of fun. Opposite the venue is a craft beer bar. This may not sound like much but in Japan, live houses tend to be surrounded by nothing much. Before a gig, punters are usually reduced to drinking cans of beer in the street, leaning against walls or perched on kerbs. How very civilised then to have a draft IPA and a plate of German sausages while waiting for my number to be called (same system but this time I was #93 and was planning to stand near the back to get a different perspective, so no rush. Tonight I’m #238). Inside the venue there were about a thousand coin lockers (300 yen), another obvious idea rarely seen and especially welcome in winter when I needed about four layers outside, but only my newly acquired tour t-shirt inside.

Ten minutes before the show was due to start, the venue was only about a quarter full, approximately half the crowd of Osaka. It didn’t look good, but clearly people at this end of the country leave things late, as when the lights dimmed, the crowd had doubled. There was still a lot of empty space, but not so much as to be embarrassing.

That said, it was a crowd that really embraced their age. While waiting, one guy kept practicing his golf swing, something I’ve never seen before at a rock show, and something I never hope to see again. Have some fucking self respect, mate. The guy next to me, who looked well into his sixties, was limbering up, stretching, doing squats. That was much more like it. I did the same. The absolute hero of this night was this guy though. I hope I can still gie it laldy when I’m his age.

One unexpected side effect of all this moshing and walking has been an acknowledgement that my knees and ankles aren’t what they used to be. I climb mountains regularly, but it’s a different set of muscles and movements. I could really go an 足湯 (foot spa) right now to sooth my poor tootsies.

They played the same set. I understand why some bands do this, play the same songs every night of the tour: you can get tighter, better, stronger every night. You fuck up tonight; you can fix it tomorrow. That was clear from Ricky’s banter which was not quite word for word but almost. Lines that didn’t work in translation were dropped; others were timed better. There were a few awkward moments when Ricky referred to the crowd as Tokyo (“Come on, Tokyo, make some noise!”). We’re in Kawasaki, mate, not Tokyo. Okay, we’re in the “Greater Tokyo Area”, but no one’s address includes the word Tokyo. It’s Kawasaki City, Kanagawa Prefecture. He said “Tokyo” so often however that I started to wonder if he was making a point. Perhaps they’d said they’d play Tokyo and Osaka and were pointedly questioning why they were in a live house in a different city entirely. “Thank you, Tokyo (are you listening, booking agent?)”

Anyway, I get the whole idea of playing the same set every night, but I’m from the Pearl Jam school of mix it up, different set list every night, keep everyone on their toes. Red Flag Waltz have never played the same set in the same order twice and we never will. We have a current opener (Little C) and closer (And it Goes) but in between, anything goes.

So I came out much more satisfied than after the Osaka show. Knowing they’re playing the same set does mean that I can plan my night better. I know when the toilet breaks are (“Little Lost Sometimes” or “Bandaged Knee”), when I can go to the bar, when I can stand at the side and drink, and when to dive into the melee (for melee read aging men punching the air). Tonight I can study the show. Tomorrow it’s my turn on stage and I’d say Red Flag Waltz’s biggest weakness as the moment is our stage presence. We sound good, but I don’t think we really look good on stage yet. I want us to be captivating, to keep everyone’s attention, to put on a show not just play our songs. The Almighty do that, so hopefully I can steal a few tips tonight. Maybe I’ll begin the show in Nagoya by asking “Tokyo, how the fuck are you?” and see how that goes down.