Alcala — stylized in Japanese as アルカラ — sat for a Shibuya Channel Artist File interview while simultaneously preparing new recordings, hosting Nekofes in Kobe, and returning as a headliner energy for MURO FES. Guitarist and vocalist Inamura spoke in the freewheeling register the band is known for: fairy-tale album concepts, last-minute session structures, live-house politics, and oddly specific Shibuya recommendations that have nothing to do with tourist checklists.
Who Alcala were in 2013
Formed in 2002 and settled into their classic four-piece lineup in 2003, Alcala mixed guitar rock and alternative instincts with a self-described streak of “music-scene eccentrics.” By 2013 they had already released multiple albums and EPs, played Seattle, relocated from Kobe toward Tokyo, and appeared on large festival bills such as ROCK IN JAPAN and COUNT DOWN JAPAN.
That résumé matters because the interview is not an origin story. It is a mid-career band explaining how they still preferred unstable recording days and community festivals over polished certainty.
Recording like a fairy tale
Inamura described the then-current sessions as thematically clear but hard to sharpen. The working image was a fairy tale — Grimm or Andersen scenes where animals appear, emotions swing, and children learn kindness and sorrow without lectures. He wanted listeners to bring imagination rather than receive a slogan.
Process matched personality. Alcala often entered the studio without a locked arrangement, recorded, deleted sections, then re-decided the song. Inamura called it a high-wire act: yesterday’s favorite idea can feel wrong tomorrow, so the band sets a deadline and treats anxiety as useful thrill. He felt the album in progress had the strongest “character” yet precisely because of that risk.
Catchiness without pretending to be Ozaki
Asked about distinctive titles such as “Catchy o Kagaku Suru” (“Scientifically Studying Catchiness”), Inamura said he sometimes flinches at obvious singalong writing — and that the honest move is to admit the flinch. Better to announce catchiness proudly than hide behind prettier language. Titles built from exclamations and half-sighs, he argued, fit the band better than borrowed grandeur.
He drew a sharp line between himself and icons like Yutaka Ozaki. Straight “I love you” songs, in his view, only land when the singer already carries that mythic weight. Until then, he preferred crooked phrasing that still protected a sincere core.
MURO FES as a live house outdoors
MURO FES — named, Inamura claimed, because every fancy “○○ Rock Festival” title felt harder to say than simply naming it after O-Crest’s room director Muro — sat at the center of the conversation. For Alcala, the festival felt less like a neutral outdoor brand and more like O-Crest temporarily relocated to Harumi Passenger Terminal.
That distinction is important. Many circuit festivals try to stay impartial. MURO FES, in Inamura’s telling, rewards bands that understand live-house etiquette, local grooves, and the community that gathers around one room’s personality. Artists do not just borrow a stage; they answer whether they can still play with Crest-level urgency when the walls disappear.
He wanted future editions to function as an annual measuring stick: bands should return larger in some real way, or watch peers overtake them. Shared ownership of the festival’s growth mattered more than treating the bill as a convenient booking.
Nekofes and Kobe’s character actors
On the home front, Inamura was preparing Nekofes 2013 across seven Kobe live houses. The motive was personal geography. Many people who once shared stages with Alcala now staffed or ran those rooms. The festival was a way to gather those characters again, show outsiders the city’s oddball density, and make cooperation between venues the story.
He pointed listeners toward local names whose titles alone invite curiosity, and toward girl-group and indie acts who might fill the gaps when a main target stage hits capacity. Circuit format was intentional: if your first choice sells out, keep walking.
Shibuya memories and weird recommendations
Asked for memorable Shibuya shows, Inamura refused to pick one easily, then landed on 8 December 2005 at O-Crest — Alcala’s early Tokyo record-release night with maybe forty people in the room. The emotion was not stadium triumph. It was the schoolkid realization that a new fee category had opened: they were finally releasing a record in Shibuya.
His “recommended spots” were deliberately unromantic: a cramped multilevel parking structure near O-Crest, and the Mark City passage toward the station — “walk that corridor and you could write a hundred love songs.” When the interviewer praised O-nest meals, Inamura immediately endorsed “Koba-meshi,” the staff cooking associated with Kobayashi, and celebrated news that it would appear at MURO FES.
Those details are why the interview still belongs beside live-camera pages. Shibuya’s music economy is not only crossings and neon; it is also corridors, live-house kitchens, and rooms that turn into outdoor festivals for one Sunday.
Event notes from the interview
- Nekofes 2013: 30 June 2013, seven Kobe live houses (sold out at the time of publication)
- MURO FESTIVAL 2013: 14 July 2013, Harumi Passenger Terminal special stage; Alcala among a 28-band bill with doors at 11:00
Watch the district’s street layer today on the Shibuya Crossing live camera, then come back to this archive piece for the live-house layer underneath it. Readers connecting Artist File history to today’s street feeds can start with how to watch Japan live.
