The opening notes of Find Your Way filled the room, and Yuri took in the packed house with a look that mixed gratitude and barely-contained excitement — her voice, distinctive and luminous from the first phrase, giving the feeling away. A tight rhythmic exchange from the band led into Syndrome, its crisp guitar lines dancing with easy charm, performed in the special anniversary arrangement recorded for the 2019 BLU-SWING 10th Anniversary Best.

A Living Architecture

If BLU-SWING's live music resembles anything, it is the structure of a cathedral. Keyboardist and producer Yusuke Nakamura lays the stained-glass atmosphere beneath everything — color and light, always present, rarely announced. Guitarist Kensuke Saito traces the outer lines, the stone figures and scripture-painted walls, carrying the central message with clarity and edge. Drummer Toshiyuki Sasaki and bassist Tetsuya Hirahata are the carved pillars holding the whole structure upright — functional, precise, offering a geometric beauty in their balance. And at the center of it all, Yuri's voice: the main icon, surrounded by every element, inviting you closer, offering something like healing.

Each song builds a new cathedral. You walk through one and into the next.

Wave arrived on a steady low-end pulse, its sudden silences just as deliberate as its sound. Yuri moved through the melody without hurry, then turned to the audience with a warm smile: "Hello everyone, we're BLU-SWING!" The band introduced themselves in Mandarin — but it was the guitarist who drew the biggest reaction, greeting the crowd in Taiwanese: ta̍k-ke-hó — hello, everyone — and to-siā — thank you. The room surged. A small gesture, carefully prepared, landing exactly as intended.

"We're back in Taipei! I hope you have a great time." Yuri moved easily between Mandarin, English, and Japanese — a band whose natural language, it turns out, is all of them at once.

Then came the special guests: JABBERLOOP HORNS — trumpeter Makoto and saxophonist Daisuke — stepping onstage in their signature sharp suits and top hats, radiating the kind of energy that makes a room sit up straighter.

Fabulous launched the first trumpet solo of the night, a high, brassy declaration that seemed to have no ceiling. The saxophone answered with force and flair; the guitar held its signature crystalline tone throughout, weaving through an improvised run before returning to the theme. But this was only the appetizer. After the horn section's full-ensemble charge, the music dropped into something more interior — the keyboard racing to an emotional peak before handing off to the band. The bassist stepped to the front and took command; Yuri stood to the side, watching her bandmates trade blows with a quiet smile, nodding. Just right. The drum solo followed, building in force until one final crash closed out nearly half a song's worth of pure improvisation — and then BLU-SWING's signature jazz voice returned, softening everything that had come before.

Hitohira opened on clean guitar chords, Yuri navigating the full range from low to soaring with effortless control, swaying gently to the tempo while the trumpeter played the melody close beside the piano. The song ended through a key change and dissolved into the air.

The drummer counted off — one, two, three, four — and Starlight arrived: distorted guitar, a mid-tempo disco pulse, pink light expanding the music's latent sensuality. The saxophone solo in this atmosphere was something else entirely.

"This is our third time in Taiwan. Thank you for your support… and your love."

"Are you all having a good time?" Warmth, unhurried, real. Kurage moved through fractured rhythms washed in white light — the feeling of five in the morning, that strange magic hour. A finger pointing toward the ceiling, time slowing down. Michiteiku taion found Yuri in a white ensemble, blue light catching its edges like water as the sun gradually rose behind her. The guitarist laid down fast funk strumming in sixteenth notes, the whole ensemble generating a big band jazz heat before pivoting cleanly into dance-floor territory. The piano softened the forward momentum; the horns returned for a high, precise climax that the song simply could not exist without. When the horn section stepped back, the audience gave them everything.

Sum shifted the foundation entirely — a Latin clave rhythm in place of the four-four drive, the whole atmosphere suddenly lighter. Yuri waved; guitar and keys softened their tone. Samba warmth and the natural beauty of a Japanese melody found each other, and the whole room joined in on the simple chorus refrain — ba-la ba-ba-la-la — language suddenly irrelevant. The keyboard's harmonics invited everyone to stop thinking and simply move.

After Flash, the encore arrived. The guitarist — owner of the group's best Mandarin — took charge of the merchandise and signing announcements, adding with feeling: "We hope to come back to Taiwan!" Staff placed a vinyl on the floor; on the cover, a large portrait of Yuri herself. She spotted it and struck the same pose. The room screamed.

First Show Encore Only

The opening bars of Mayonaka no Door ~Stay With Me~ were recognized before they were finished. Against the bass and drums, couples in the audience drew closer. Yuri delivered the song with the composure of someone who has lived inside it — the quiet authority of an urban woman who has nothing left to prove. Even the guitarist, usually composed, looked genuinely moved.

The horn section returned for the final time. "Old friends at this point," Yuri said, and it showed. The closing Sunset was ache and warmth together, Yuri all in white at the center of the stage, her unhurried stillness thrown into relief against the surging music — not a contrast, exactly, but a conversation. The two things holding each other up.