The blue-glowing stage apparatus separates the world

The other day, I went to BLUE NOTE TOKYO for the first time in my life.
Though located in Tokyo, this place I had long admired felt as if it were connected to some other world.

I first learned of the name BLUE NOTE from a movie called "BLUE GIANT."
Although it was based on a manga, the trailer at the movie theater I frequented back then was my first point of contact.

That trailer, less than a minute long, played the blaring sound of a saxophone and never ceased to captivate my eyes and ears.
It was more than enough reason for me to head to the movie theater at the time.

In the film, the venue was called So Blue, but
it was clear from the exterior and the story that it was modeled after BLUE NOTE TOKYO.

On the day of the show, after walking for about 10 minutes from Omotesando Station,
I saw a building with the same exterior as the one in the movie, sitting neatly between other buildings.

When I opened the heavy door, photos of legendary jazz musicians were displayed there, and
the passage leading to the basement felt like a tunnel leading to another world, as if I were slipping out of reality.

When I descended the stairs and emerged into the spacious area, an elegant atmosphere flowed through it, and
the slightly dim lighting created an ambiance clearly different from daily life, where there is too much to see.

After finishing the reception and entering the venue, a well-groomed staff member guided me to my seat.
Their movements were flawless and fluid, like a scene from a movie.

The seat I was guided to was in the front row of the arena. The drums were closest, and the stage was right under my nose.
Perhaps it was a small gift for me, visiting BLUE NOTE for the first time that day. I would like to take this opportunity to express my gratitude.

After taking a sip of the cocktail I ordered, the show began.
The sounds of songs I had listened to many times were born one after another right in front of me.
While each instrument harmonized, the music writhed and dominated the space like a giant living creature.

In the middle of the show, once the atmosphere had warmed up, songs featuring solo parts were performed.
Piano, guitar, bass, saxophone, drums—every instrument clashed with every sound, pushing each other aside to be the first to step forward.
There was a professional pride there that I could understand precisely because I sometimes touch instruments as an amateur.

Even after the performance ended, the reverberations of the music did not subside, and I fell into a sensation as if my body were there, but my spirit was not. The sea of sound I had dived into was never suffocating; in fact, it was almost comforting.

The blue-glowing stage apparatus quietly invites those who watch it into another world.
Before I know it, I might be holding that invitation again.