I’ll be honest, I didn’t anticipate there being that much of a turnout for this show. In actuality, the Kikuoland concert at Manchester Academy was sold out, but I had made the easy mistake of assuming that, as the music of the headliner is relatively niche and enjoyed particularly in communities whose interactions are mostly online, there just wouldn’t be the in-person audience that could be expected for your more conventional musician.
Needless to say, this was to my shame, for when my friend and I rocked up to Oxford Road at 7pm, we were met with the sight of a queue extending far beyond the venue; distinctively fluorescent with the colourful cosplays and eccentric outfits adorned by many of the concertgoers awaiting entry. And, in spite of the confusion/curiosity evident on the faces of unwitting passers-by, anyone who has heard anything by Kikuo will agree that such a vibrant crowd is in keeping with the sound he has cultivated throughout his decade-spanning career.
Although a distinguished producer of ‘vocaloid’ music, a genre popularised in Japan that involves the use of synthesised vocal software in place of the human voice, Kikuo’s blending of electronic and traditional instrumentation in his compositions, all of which are unrelenting in their forays into the darker, often ignored aspects of humanity, set him apart from his peers as a truly singular artist. His exploration of themes of the likes of abuse, mental illness and death against deceptively upbeat melodies and EDM beats has drawn audiences from across the globe – Kikuo’s most popular song boasts over 150 million streams on Spotify and, as he informed us during the show, he is the first vocaloid producer to have gone on a world tour (that being the current Kikuoland Go-Round Tour) – and his music has provided a space of reflection and respite for people in mirroring their real-life experiences.
Being a long-time fan of Kikuo’s material, I knew that his was not going to be a standard fare DJ set; an expectation affirmed upon entering Academy 2, where several audience members stood acquainting themselves with the light sticks (the use of which at live shows is customary in Japan) they had purchased at the merch stall and Hoshi, Kikuo’s mascot, posed for many a picture before the show. However, I had little understanding of how Kikuo would be as a performer – my mate, having seen some footage from other shows, telling me that he ‘jumped around a lot’ – and quite how impressive Kikuoland was going to be.
Jump around, Kikuo certainly did. And clap, and yell, and make conducting motions whilst stood on the chair behind his gear which, also taking into account his elaborate, face-concealing headgear, gave him the air of a musician-turned-cult leader. His antics on stage was far from the zaniest thing the concert had to offer, though. For one, the visuals displayed on the screen behind Kikuo throughout the show were nothing short of insane: just part of the Kikuoland experience, the slideshow beamed into our brains contained (but was not limited to) distorted emojis, uncanny valley cats and psychedelic sequences plucked straight from the 60s; most songs ending with the background disintegrating into a pulsating, pixelated mess.
Speaking of which: the songs. I don’t think I’ve felt happier to hear an artist’s music being blasted from concert speakers than I did at this show. The beginning of the set was exhilarating, with Kikuo welcoming us to his endearing yet disturbing world via a sequence of breakcore bangers; the bass thrumming and drums thumping so powerfully that, should I have closed my eyes, I could’ve kidded myself into thinking I was at a rave as opposed to a concert. These tracks also saw their creator encourage audience participation by clapping or shouting to the beat for us to repeat (something that proved especially entertaining during songs like Dance of the Frogs, which gets faster and more chaotic as it progresses).
After the first few songs, Kikuo stopped to allow us to ‘rest our ears’ for a moment. During this time, he greeted us before speaking briefly about the difference he had needed to adjust to between audiences in Japan and audiences around the world; stating that while, in the former country, the most you can expect from a crowd is clapping or waving light sticks, “here, you like screaming” (in response to which, of course, we yelled in agreement). Despite the mask concealing Kikuo’s face – he has remained decidedly anonymous throughout his career – the charisma and geniality he exuded in these breaks made it impossible for us not to warm to him.
That said, it was amusing to witness, in real time, the switch between the softly spoken person behind the mask and Kikuo as a performer who, for the duration of the show, moved to his music like a man possessed. The audience was similarly energetic, though it was Kikuo’s most popular songs that prompted the most fervent responses. For instance, Hole Dwelling, a haunting number from 2019’s ‘Miku 6’ sonically comparable to a descent into madness, sent light sticks shaking. Love Me, Love Me, Love Me, accompanied by its equally iconic music video playing in the background, was vociferously received; the chorus’s titular refrain (‘aishite’ in Japanese) shouted en masse atop a cacophonous drum and bass beat. The melodica-led You are a Worthless Child, along with Sorry, Sorry – almost certainly the darkest composition in Kikuo’s discography – and Dance of the Corpses, in which the hardship of life is lamented over an unnervingly buoyant violin melody, also elicited cheers and whoops from the crowd.
Hits aside, Kikuo’s set as a whole was phenomenal and, working with a catalogue as extensive and consistently excellent as his, it’s hard to imagine how it could’ve been any better. I particularly appreciated the balance he managed to strike between newer and older material and his inclusion of some relatively deep cuts among the most beloved tracks of his. If I had to pinpoint a favourite moment, I would have to say the hypnotic instrumental break in 2023’s As It Is, As It Is, Without Change, which, as synth bass coursed through the floor, made me feel as though I was levitating.
After Kikuo, joined on stage by his mascot, concluded the concert in a typically maximalist fashion (enlisting confetti, balloons smoke machines, the lot), I dazedly left the venue: gutted that it had to end but, ultimately, pacified by the knowledge that Kikuoland, over the course of two hours it lasted, had cemented itself as an experience I will never forget – nor, I imagine, will anyone who attended one of these magnificent shows.
