I searched for the venue for days. A younger man would have found it on his first night in town.
I asked at the koban closest to my hotel and was directed to the Bunkamura-dori, love hotel central
and the racy nightlife spot in Shibuya. Waiting in the rain for the box office to open, a woman who
looked like she was coming home from work chatted me up in Japanese. I demurred.
These guys have a great movie that opens their show. A 20-minute image-builder.
Hard to describe them. Dangerous comes to mind. Loud. Stunning. Smart. Surprising. Funky. Fifteen
soloists. It was a jaw-dropping night, for me and the all-girl audience (really). But the bass player
was registering the occasional weak solo with a too-big “I-can’t-believe-that” smile. It’s his band.