Music melts all the separate parts of our bodies together
Anais Nin

Sixteen hours after running out of class to catch the overnight bus to Tokyo, I finally arrived at the Fuji Rock site, tucked neatly between the mountain valleys of the Naeba ski resort in Niigata prefecture. After the swirls of disorientation had abated, and my nerves settled I decided to check out the grounds and head for the tunes.

I caught the end of UK based Portuguese glam punk band, The Parkinsons, while eating a huge bowl of ¥500 Japanese curry sold to me by an over genki girl - a kickass deal compared to some of the skimpy portions of "international" carnival food available at some of the other stalls. They kept most of their clothes on for the show, a little out of character for the band, but Alfonse, the lead vocalist, didn't fail to rouse the audience by wiping the sweat off his scrawny torso and ass with his socks before he sending them flying into the crowd. Topping that off, he used his shoe as a beer mug to pound back the remainder of a Heineken, ahhh... a final touch to gross out the fans.

©Yuki Kuroyanagi

I'd been to many concerts before FRF and a few summer festivals so I thought I was on top of things until I realized just how big the site actually was. It must have been a good 15 to 20 minute walk between the main stages, The Green Stage (and the nearby enclosed Red Marquee), The White Stage and The Field of Heaven, which were nuzzled cozily, at times too cozily, in grassy clearings. The distance, however, prevented any unwelcome mixing of melodies. The huge crowds hiked back and forth along the shaded forest paths and over crystal clear streams to catch glimpses of their favorite bands or to check out something new. Although slightly cooler in the mountains, daytime temperatures cracked 30 degrees, and it was clear I'd be guzzling plenty of the mouth-wateringly named Pocari Sweat to stay hydrated. The crowds at the festival would literally create a mountain of plastic bottles, as well as other waste products, over the three days, but Fuji Rock's waste management system was impressive. The food stalls all used non-wax coated paper bowls and plates. The garbage stations had separate bins, and attendants to sort the rubbish, and was given creatively decorated plastic garbage bags at the gates (mine doubled as a tarp and as a shoe but that's another story).

On the way to the Field of Heaven, with it's small stage and new age shops and cafes, I happened upon the Avalon Field. Away from the arena-esque main stage, the NGO stalls, solar powered stage, and new age booths show the influence of the early days of the UK's Glastonbury Festival, which inspired Fuji Rock's head honcho. In the blink of an eye, a hipped out old Japanese fellow tried to sell me on the somewhat ineffective natural sunscreen, squeezing gobs onto my arms. He told me he had traveled to India 11 times in the past where he would ask foreigners to move here to help change Japan. Not your typical old dude, I thought as I moved on to watch another of the booth attendants trying to teach a couple of youngsters how to play a bamboo drum. I didn't quite make it to the Field of Heaven on that particular hike as the sounds of Manu Chao Radio Bemba Sound System began to filter through the leaves. The electric mix and fast South American rhythms drew me back to the White Stage, where an Osama Bin Laden on speed was jumping around the stage, and giving much needed energy to the sun battered crowd. Everyone was dancing and I made a mental note to pick up their CD. One thing that I couldn't quite get my head around was how, when the site, under clear blue skies, surrounded by beautiful mountains, and filled with chilled out people, so much of the music was so dark and aggressive. The stark contrast was none more clear when Alec Empire - a spoiled brat who should never have been given a microphone as far as I can tell - strode onto the Green Stage, backed by his soundtrack to the apocalypse. His adrenaline-fuelled digital hardcore scared me, and even the dragonflies away.

Little boy Alec gone, The VooRedoms - one of the many permutations of Japanese underground heroes Boredoms §¢ did a similar performance to their local appearance at last December's Wa Gathering, with 3 drummers and a DJ sat in a circle, seancing the music out of their instruments with their backs to the audience. Amazing music - they were only the second band so far to impress me musically - but why I wondered were they playing the largest stage?

First night headliners, Prodigy, hit the stage testosterone in tow. Turning off the giant screen forced everyone camped on their tarps and lawn-chairs to stand up to get a glimpse of the action. Prodigy thrive on shocking and pissing people off by writing offensive and shocking lyrics while claiming they mean nothing. I'd argue that although Smack My Bitch Up carries quite a punch, it's is not just a random mix of words but does make sense as a sentence and does send a negative message. They do, however, bring great energy to the stage. They were the first Green Stage band to interact with the audience on an intimate level, and however much they piss me off, I couldn't stop watching them in curious anticipation of what their next move might be.

08/2002 Krista Sheen