Hi, I’m Kei.
On May 3 during Golden Week, I attended Day 2 of Japan Jam 2026. The last time I went to Japan Jam was in 2011 — fifteen years had passed without my noticing. On the drive from Nagoya, I found myself vaguely remembering, “Right, back then I was living in Tokyo.”
The Stormy Day 2 — And the Festival That Was Cancelled the Next Day
The day was affected by a spring storm — strong winds from the morning, even though the sky stayed clear and the weather itself felt good. I spent part of the day at the venue half-distracted, wondering whether the stage rigging was going to hold.
Those concerns turned out to be warranted. The following day, May 4, was cancelled entirely due to severe winds and widespread disruption to public transportation. The call was made to prioritize the safety of attendees, artists, and staff. I felt genuinely sorry for everyone who’d been looking forward to that day — the artists who couldn’t perform must have been devastated. I was just lucky to have chosen the day I did.
The Japan Jam I Came Back to Was Somewhere I’d Never Been
My last Japan Jam was May 2011. I wrote about it on this blog — it was just after the Great East Japan Earthquake. The festival I’d originally planned to attend had been postponed, and I ended up at Japan Jam on short notice. The message boards at the venue were full of words about the disaster, and the whole place had a quiet sense of relief that events like this could happen again.
The 2011 Japan Jam was held indoors at Makuhari Messe, and was known for its “artist × artist” session format — Sambomaster sharing a stage with Motoharu Sano, Elephant Kashimashi joined by Shigeru Izumiya. That kind of unexpected pairing was just a normal thing.
The 2026 Japan Jam had moved to an outdoor venue at Soma Sports Park in Chiba, and each artist performed separately. The open-air feel wasn’t bad, but for all they share a name, this Japan Jam bears little resemblance to the one I knew. Honestly, it felt less like returning after 15 years and more like visiting a new festival altogether.
One other thing that had changed was where I’m coming from — literally. In 2011 I lived in Tokyo, so getting to Makuhari was nothing. Now I’m back in Nagoya, and making it to a Tokyo festival requires real planning. Fifteen years had changed not just the festival, but my own geography.
11 a.m. to Night — Nine Sets Across One Day
The rough shape of my day looked like this:
I started with Chevon at SKY STAGE, then moved to muque at WING STAGE. I half-listened to NEE at WING STAGE over lunch, then caught KANA-BOON, FLOW, and Kitani Tatsuya back-to-back. Late afternoon I saw indigo la End, then sumika, UVERworld, and closed with Asian Kung-Fu Generation. From about 11:30 a.m. to past 8 p.m. — ten sets with almost no breaks.
One of the great things about festivals is stumbling onto artists you don’t usually listen to. Stopping by stages I hadn’t planned for turned up a few moments that pulled me in unexpectedly. Being able to spend time on artists you don’t know is one of the format’s real strengths, and I was reminded of that.
SKY STAGE and SUNSET STAGE face each other, so moving between them takes almost no time. That layout was what let me see both sumika and UVERworld properly in the final stretch of the day.
sumika — Front Area Ticket, the Heat You Can Only See with Your Own Eyes
One of my main targets for the day was sumika. I’d applied for a front area spot in the lottery and got in — around row 14. Those lotteries go the wrong way more often than not, so when you win, you want to make it count.
The setlist opened with “Fanfare,” then “Unmei,” “Fukkatsu no Jumon,” “MAGIC,” “Honto,” “Toumei,” “Glitter,” and “Dengon-ka” — eight songs. “Fukkatsu no Jumon” and “MAGIC” have signature choreography that people do together at shows, and being in the front area meant I could move with everyone around me. That feeling of doing a familiar move in sync with the crowd — it’s something you can’t get from a screen, no matter how many times you’ve watched the video.
Up close, an artist’s movements, expressions, and the physical weight of the sound are completely different from anything you see through a camera. No matter how familiar you are with them through recordings, what you receive with your own eyes is a different thing. If I had to sum up in one sentence why I go to live shows, that would be it.
UVERworld — “PLAYGROUND” and the Case for Doing It Anyway
My other main target was UVERworld. After sumika I moved to SUNSET STAGE for their 6:15 p.m. set.
“Touch off” opened, then “PHOENIX AX,” “NO MAP,” “PRAYING RUN,” “FINALIST AX feat. AK-69,” “IMPACT,” “ALL ALONE,” “EPIPHANY,” “EN,” and “THEORY” — ten songs, a substantial festival set. Coming out of sumika’s warm atmosphere and into this wall of heavy, direct sound was a contrast that landed just right.
What strikes me about UVERworld is the particular force that comes when sound and message fuse. “PLAYGROUND” is the clearest example — the whole song carries this attitude of “just try everything.” Better to have done it and moved on than to have held back and always wondered. It overlaps with how I approach my own work and decisions, and it hits differently every time I hear it.
Wrapping Up
Spring festivals are kinder on the body than summer ones. The wind was strong, but there was no heat exhaustion to worry about, and I got through the day with energy to spare. When I found out the next day was cancelled, I thought briefly about everyone who’d been planning to be there on the 4th. A festival only exists when it actually happens — that felt sharply real.
The Japan Jam I came back to after 15 years was somewhere I didn’t recognize — but the feeling of receiving something live, directly, hadn’t changed at all. I’d changed, the place had changed, the format had changed, but the heat you take in with your own eyes stayed the same. It takes some planning to make it from Nagoya, but if the schedule lines up, I’d like to come again next year.
— Kei