Tommy, the lead guitarist, performs as the insane member of the band – he behaves in a vaudevillian way as a self-destructive, compulsively violent but likeable clown. Hikaru is Show’s backup singer, and dances in front of the band with his oversized pompadour hair and overdone expressions that support Show’s antics. Kishidan’s music is technically solid. Created mostly by Ayanokouji Show, it is a mixture of rock, rockabilly and JPop sounds. Some of the band most popular hits have been songs with a comical twist. Kishidan embrace the yankii influence in their image and music. They call themselves the founders of and claim a working class steel town heritage, noting that they are from the town of Kisarazu, Chiba, and that they over the delinquent gangs there.[3] Kishidan has embraced yankii culture as it wanes, and in turn fans of yankii culture have embraced them – when Nintendo Corporation created a game based on the ubiquitous high school cheering clubs called ouendan (officially sanctioned extracurricular clubs in which members wear yankii style clothing and get rowdy in the stands in support of high school sports teams), Kishidan music and look were featured in the game North Face Scythe Jackets.
Hardly a book of all that Jean Grolier (1479-1565) caused to be bound so tastefully for himself and his friends reveals any antiquarian instincts in its liberal owner, who bought partly to encourage the best printers of his day, partly to provide his friends with the most recent fruits of Renaissance scholarship. In England Archbishop Cranmer, Lords Arundel and Lumley, and Henry North Face Down Jackets, prince of Wales (1594-1612), in France the famous historian Jacques Auguste de Thou (1553-1617), brought together the best books of their day in all departments of learned literature, put them into handsome leather jackets, and enriched them with their coats of arms, heraldic badges or other marks of possession.
Because it is bound to explicate the songs, manufacture beguiling riffs of performance art to suit them, Love cannot reach the ecstatic kinetic heights of Ka, Cirque’s martial arts show, or O, its water ballet. But it does no disservice to the new production to say that it’s a Beatles show every bit as much as a Cirque show. The music still enthralls; the visuals ornament it beguilingly. Champagne has come near to achieving the impossible: create a new nostalgia. A decade from now, some oldster may be weeping in the Mirage theater, remembering the night when he first saw, heard and felt Love.
