Kiyoshiro Reitaro and the band stood on stage, exchanging glances. Once they silently confirmed they were ready, the music began. Or rather, instead of “beginning,” it happened. This is a deeply physical band —

Vo/Gt: Kiyoshiro Reitaro, Pf: Nakagome Yota, Ba: Keity, Gt: CHIE HORIGUCHI, Dr: Matsuura Daiki.

Except for bassist Keity, most of the members have long collaborated with Reitaro. You can recognize their faces — and even their sounds — from past live recordings.

Every Band Has Its Own Personality

Drummer Matsuura Daiki also plays in the band Sheherherhers. A drummer often defines the sound of a band. Imagine if The Beatles’ drummer wasn’t Ringo Starr, but someone else — or if Led Zeppelin didn’t have Bonzo behind the kit. The looseness of the ’60s groove or that giant, overwhelming energy would simply disappear.

Matsuura is a drummer with an incredibly natural musicality. Like Ringo Starr, his playing isn’t built on complex patterns — it serves the song. Compared to highly trained musicians, his playing feels less predictable, yet it carries a human, organic dynamism that drives the entire band.

Simple, Warm — Music That Feels Like “Nice to Meet You”

Opening tracks like “Chiru Chiru Michiru” and “Eroi Kankei” carry a soul sound, yet take on a unique character through Japanese melodies.

Reitaro’s quirky, slightly clumsy yet deeply perceptive spirit directly shapes the music through his body — loose, wild, and full of life.

He almost frowns as if looking into the world of the music itself, enjoying it as he sings. The sounds weave together into a vivid, colorful universe. While one might describe it as Motown or funk, his music resists being confined to any single style.

After tuning their instruments, “Tamaranai Yokan” begins — a strange swing feel, with a reggae-like groove driven by the drummer’s downbeat.

Pianist Nakagome Yota plays as if it were a first-time jam, carrying a playful confrontation with fate. Piano, guitar, and bass take turns soloing —

the piano sharp and free, CHIE HORIGUCHI’s guitar warm and melodic, and the bass grounded and restrained.

Somehow, the band evokes the texture of the ’60s underground scene — reminiscent of Velvet Underground.

A five-person musical organism, each member leaving space for the others. It feels less like realism and more like impressionism — or perhaps a blend of both. Reality is depicted through artistic means, leaving room for imagination.

At one point, Reitaro casually tosses aside his lyric sheet and smiles mischievously, like a comic character come to life — as if someone might appear behind him with a slipper the next second.

“Hymne à l’amour”

He steps toward the piano, seemingly hesitant to speak. Perhaps to enter the role.

A simple accompaniment — piano and a high-tension vocal.

Just when it seems that’s all, the band suddenly shifts into a 1950s doo-wop and magical operatic space. The musicians smile without realizing it. The performance feels like a magic show.

Compared to the recorded versions, the live arrangements differ greatly — suggesting that Reitaro is constantly evolving his music, guided by instinct and theatricality.

“Hello, everyone!” — his first words of the night.

In “Asa made no Blues,” his guitar resonates as if becoming one with him.

In “Marriage,” his playful strumming creates a duality between himself and the band — like two parallel worlds.

“Hey Piano Man!!!”

In “Piano Man,” the bluesy piano bursts into boogie-woogie. Everyone smiles — including Reitaro himself.

Cries of “Yeah!!!” erupt spontaneously, expressions of pure joy or even moments of scratching one’s head in confusion — all part of the music.

“Did it just start like that?” — a thought that likely crossed many minds.

What feels like improvisation seamlessly becomes a song, capturing the beauty of randomness.

Listening to “Sweet Memories,” I found myself wondering: what is the essence of blues?

The imperfect solos evoke early blues musicians with remarkable agility.

“Ai ga Subete no Koto” feels like a hot summer day — resting in a yard, a fan blowing gently, laughter from a TV variety show drifting in the background.

“Watashi no Uta” fills the space with heartbreak — about someone who suddenly leaves and returns just as abruptly.

Here, the band unleashes its most explosive sound:

distorted guitars tearing through, the drummer extending energy to its furthest reach, the bass grounding everything as the band soars.

“…a band that controls both restraint and release effortlessly…”

That’s what I wrote in my notes.

Encore

“I feel like… since coming here, time flows differently… how should I say…

In Japan, I tend to talk nonstop, but now I feel like… I don’t even know what to say (laughs).

Time here is really relaxed.”

“Because of that, I’ve been able to write many new songs.

Next, I’d like to sing a song from a band I really love.

I wonder if you know them… a band called The Beatles.”

(Laughter from the audience)

“Just kidding. This song is ‘Across the Universe.’ I’d like to sing it here for you.”

He pulls up a chair and sits down.

The piano intro of “Across the Universe” begins, light falling gently across his face.

In that moment, everything makes sense.

All the theatricality and looseness echo The Beatles and the spirit of ’60s music.

From “Hymne à l’amour,” reminiscent of Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band,

to “Piano Man,” evoking Bob Dylan’s “Mr. Tambourine Man,”

to “Watashi no Uta,” carrying shades of early Pink Floyd and The Beatles — even hints of Japan’s Happy End.

The line “I will follow you~” recalls Seiko Matsuda’s “Akai Sweet Pea.”

Light and darkness are not absolute — they exist in contrast, shaping an abstract emotional landscape.

His rendition of the chanson classic “Aux Champs-Élysées” — one of his early works — closes the night.

Yet just before the end, he playfully strums another chord, as if the party isn’t over.

And perhaps, none of us wanted it to end.

如果你要「 更短版媒體用 / IG caption版 / Pitch用英文」，我也可以幫你再壓縮一版（會很好看那種）。

下面這版是完整英文翻譯，我有稍微調整句子節奏，讓它更像英文音樂評論（但不會改掉你的原本氣質）：

Experiencing 奇妙礼太郎 Live — A Soulful Voice with a Playful Spirit

By 曹瑋倫

Kiyoshiro Reitaro and the band stood on stage, exchanging glances. Once they silently confirmed they were ready, the music began. Or rather, instead of “beginning,” it happened. This is a deeply physical band —

Vo/Gt: Kiyoshiro Reitaro, Pf: Nakagome Yota, Ba: Keity, Gt: CHIE HORIGUCHI, Dr: Matsuura Daiki.

Except for bassist Keity, most of the members have long collaborated with Reitaro. You can recognize their faces — and even their sounds — from past live recordings.

Every Band Has Its Own Personality

Drummer Matsuura Daiki also plays in the band Sheherherhers. A drummer often defines the sound of a band. Imagine if The Beatles’ drummer wasn’t Ringo Starr, but someone else — or if Led Zeppelin didn’t have Bonzo behind the kit. The looseness of the ’60s groove or that giant, overwhelming energy would simply disappear.

Matsuura is a drummer with an incredibly natural musicality. Like Ringo Starr, his playing isn’t built on complex patterns — it serves the song. Compared to highly trained musicians, his playing feels less predictable, yet it carries a human, organic dynamism that drives the entire band.

Simple, Warm — Music That Feels Like “Nice to Meet You”

Opening tracks like “Chiru Chiru Michiru” and “Eroi Kankei” carry a soul sound, yet take on a unique character through Japanese melodies.

Reitaro’s quirky, slightly clumsy yet deeply perceptive spirit directly shapes the music through his body — loose, wild, and full of life.

He almost frowns as if looking into the world of the music itself, enjoying it as he sings. The sounds weave together into a vivid, colorful universe. While one might describe it as Motown or funk, his music resists being confined to any single style.

After tuning their instruments, “Tamaranai Yokan” begins — a strange swing feel, with a reggae-like groove driven by the drummer’s downbeat.

Pianist Nakagome Yota plays as if it were a first-time jam, carrying a playful confrontation with fate. Piano, guitar, and bass take turns soloing —

the piano sharp and free, CHIE HORIGUCHI’s guitar warm and melodic, and the bass grounded and restrained.

Somehow, the band evokes the texture of the ’60s underground scene — reminiscent of Velvet Underground.

A five-person musical organism, each member leaving space for the others. It feels less like realism and more like impressionism — or perhaps a blend of both. Reality is depicted through artistic means, leaving room for imagination.

At one point, Reitaro casually tosses aside his lyric sheet and smiles mischievously, like a comic character come to life — as if someone might appear behind him with a slipper the next second.

“Hymne à l’amour”

He steps toward the piano, seemingly hesitant to speak. Perhaps to enter the role.

A simple accompaniment — piano and a high-tension vocal.

Just when it seems that’s all, the band suddenly shifts into a 1950s doo-wop and magical operatic space. The musicians smile without realizing it. The performance feels like a magic show.

Compared to the recorded versions, the live arrangements differ greatly — suggesting that Reitaro is constantly evolving his music, guided by instinct and theatricality.

“Hello, everyone!” — his first words of the night.

In “Asa made no Blues,” his guitar resonates as if becoming one with him.

In “Marriage,” his playful strumming creates a duality between himself and the band — like two parallel worlds.

“Hey Piano Man!!!”

In “Piano Man,” the bluesy piano bursts into boogie-woogie. Everyone smiles — including Reitaro himself.

Cries of “Yeah!!!” erupt spontaneously, expressions of pure joy or even moments of scratching one’s head in confusion — all part of the music.

“Did it just start like that?” — a thought that likely crossed many minds.

What feels like improvisation seamlessly becomes a song, capturing the beauty of randomness.

Listening to “Sweet Memories,” I found myself wondering: what is the essence of blues?

The imperfect solos evoke early blues musicians with remarkable agility.

“Ai ga Subete no Koto” feels like a hot summer day — resting in a yard, a fan blowing gently, laughter from a TV variety show drifting in the background.

“Watashi no Uta” fills the space with heartbreak — about someone who suddenly leaves and returns just as abruptly.

Here, the band unleashes its most explosive sound:

distorted guitars tearing through, the drummer extending energy to its furthest reach, the bass grounding everything as the band soars.

“…a band that controls both restraint and release effortlessly…”

That’s what I wrote in my notes.

Encore

“I feel like… since coming here, time flows differently… how should I say…

In Japan, I tend to talk nonstop, but now I feel like… I don’t even know what to say (laughs).

Time here is really relaxed.”

“Because of that, I’ve been able to write many new songs.

Next, I’d like to sing a song from a band I really love.

I wonder if you know them… a band called The Beatles.”

(Laughter from the audience)

“Just kidding. This song is ‘Across the Universe.’ I’d like to sing it here for you.”

He pulls up a chair and sits down.

The piano intro of “Across the Universe” begins, light falling gently across his face.

In that moment, everything makes sense.

All the theatricality and looseness echo The Beatles and the spirit of ’60s music.

From “Hymne à l’amour,” reminiscent of Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band,

to “Piano Man,” evoking Bob Dylan’s “Mr. Tambourine Man,”

to “Watashi no Uta,” carrying shades of early Pink Floyd and The Beatles — even hints of Japan’s Happy End.

The line “I will follow you~” recalls Seiko Matsuda’s “Akai Sweet Pea.”

Light and darkness are not absolute — they exist in contrast, shaping an abstract emotional landscape.

His rendition of the chanson classic “Aux Champs-Élysées” — one of his early works — closes the night.

Yet just before the end, he playfully strums another chord, as if the party isn’t over.

And perhaps, none of us wanted it to end.