Music Festival in Sakae Jan. 31 and Feb. 1, 2026
It's the end of January in Sakae and the snack mamas are shivering in their fake mink outside the usual doorways. Cigarette smoke curls into cold air mingling with frying oil and diesel fumes from passing trucks.
But tonight the backstreets move different. Younger bodies stomping boots on pavement, breath clouding, fingerless gloves tapping at phone screens, comparing wristbands under streetlights.
A snare drum cracks out of a basement door propped open on Sumiyoshi-dori. Someone in line shifts weight, stamps feet.
Another crack.
Bass drum punch.
The door swings shut and the sound gets swallowed but three blocks over there's another line, another door, another band bleeding through brick and glass.
People peel off, walk fast toward the next venue, loop back twenty minutes later with different friends.
Follow the foot traffic long enough and you figure it out: this isn't one show. It's sixteen live houses all firing at once, zigzagging across Sakae like veins under skin.
This Festival shows just how dense Nagoya's live house network actually is.
This is Dera Rock Festival. Two days. Sixteen live houses scattered across the endless concrete of Sakae and its surroundings, most of them close enough to move door to door, or cut across one shivering backstreet. One wristband gets you into all of the venues. Bands play straight through at each spot.
There is no "main stage." There's no schedule you have to follow. You move when you want. Stay when something staggers you. Bail when it doesn't.
The crowd heaves and edges in mercurial waves.
Anyone who has run a stage with more than one band on the bill can imagine what a nightmare organizing something like this must be.
But the pros at RAD Creation are running it— the same crew behind RAD Hall, R.A.D, RAD Seven, RAD Nine.
That's admittedly a lot of "RAD" for me—or anyone with hype-sensitive ears.
But to be fair they pull in the independent spots too. Diamond Hall looming like a megalith. Shangri-La. HeartLand. The venerable crunch of Tight Rope. Circus. Club Rock 'n' Roll.
Places that spend the other 363 days a year trying to fill their own rooms, all playing nice for one weekend before going back to competing to pay the bills.
There's a Tokyo version. An Osaka version. But surprisingly Nagoya's the only one that runs two full days, which means you don't have to sprint. You've got time to fuck up, miss a band, circle back, try again.
For people used to local gaijin gigs in Nagoya (one band, one venue, one night) Dera Rock can look like... well... a lot.
It's loud. It's crowded. Schedules overlap.
You will miss things.
But that's the point.
Local promoter Travis Finch of Cicada Live spends most weekends in these places. When I asked him about Dera Rock, he didn't oversell it.
"It's probably a great first show for someone to get introduced to a ton of Japanese talent at once," he said—not because it's easy, but because it removes the pressure to pick the right band.
In other words—you're allowed to bail on that chick that warbles while wearing a pussy cat hat while chained to the drum set.
Or not.
Wander. Leave early. Or just plant yourself in one venue all day. Let the bands set up, mic check, and do their thing.
One way to make sense of Dera Rock—especially if you're not tracking genres—is to think in rooms, not bands.
Diamond Hall is the biggest space. Main floor, proper stage, PA that doesn't fuck around. That's where the more accessible rock acts play, including Nagoya bands with actual followings.
Travis pointed to kurage, a local J-rock band whose songs are built for rooms this size. "I love the tone of the vocals and drums," he said. Anthemic stuff. Big choruses. Works even if you don't know the words.
The same venue also runs a smaller floor-level stage. Here the vibe is totally different. kagome plays there Saturday—another Nagoya band that Travis described as "slice-of-life music. The kind of rock you make with your friends when you're teens."
Not everything here is polished. Not everything needs to be.
Yet elsewhere, the rooms get specific. Fast.
Spade Box pulls in technical bands that don't completely disappear up their own asses. Travis mentioned ORCALAND, a Tokyo band that mixes math-rock—whatever that means—with hooks that actually stick. "Even though it's a little technical, it's very catchy," he said. I wasn't sold, but that's seems to be the format.
Meanwhile Shangri-La and the spots around it tend toward faster melodic rock and pop-punk. locofrank plays Sunday—quick tempos, big choruses, energy that translates even when the lyrics don't.
Then there's Tight Rope.
This is where I blew my youth, so I'm biased. But if you step into that room, you'll know immediately whether it's for you or not. Modern metalcore. Post-hardcore. Loud even by festival standards.
Travis pointed to SCYLA, a Nagoya band he's toured with before. Djent-style metal mixed with electronic backing tracks and a full cybernetic visual theme—LED lights, costumes, the works. Intense. Precise.
Ridiculous in the best way.
You don't end up at Tight Rope by accident—though I once left in an ambulance because of one. It's also where I lost my hearing virginity.
If you're new to this, some of the freakiest stages will be the ones running idol-rock crossover acts. Think choreographed dancing over live metal or rock instrumentation.
Venom Lily, a gothic alternative idol group from Nagoya, plays RAD Seven. Travis mentioned them in passing. He said they have a devoted fanbase and that the room "changes" when they're on.
I've seen this scene before, and to be honest—I don't get it. Maybe you will. But It's happening, and people show up for it—in numbers, with intent.
There are actually four venues running this circuit: ReNY Limited, RAD Seven, Holiday Next, and RAD Hall. If you hate it, you know where not to go. If you're curious—well, you've got options.
Travis, who gravitates toward heavy music and doesn't usually go for idol groups, flagged one exception: Broken by the Scream on Sunday at RAD Hall.
Deathcore instrumentation with girls who can actually scream, not just sing. He was emphatic about it. If you're skeptical about that whole corner of the festival, that's the one to check.
There are other rooms doing their own thing. Circus and Party'z lean more classic rock-and-roll energy—less precision, more attitude. The kind of bands that sound like they've been doing this in basements for twenty years and don't care if you show up or not.
That's Dera Rock.
If there's one mistake first-timers make, it's trying to do too much.
Pick a couple of venues. Stay longer than you think you should. Bring earplugs—regulars do. You will miss bands you meant to see. That's not failure. That's how this works.
Dera Rock isn't a checklist. It's better when you stop managing it.
Travis is planning to spend most of his time in one room this year. That's not lack of curiosity. That's experience.
What Dera Rock does, if nothing else, is show you how dense Nagoya's live house network actually is. How many bands are moving through it. How these rooms that normally compete to get fifty people can wire themselves together when there's a reason.
No temporary stages. No imported festival footprint. Just what's already here, turned on at the same time.
You don't need to speak Japanese. You don't need to know the scene. You just need to be okay stepping into a room where something's already happening and figuring out whether you want to stay. That's it.
The Details
Dera Rock Festival 2026
Venues:
16 venues across Sakae
(See Venue Map Below)
Dates:
Sat, Jan. 31 & Sun, Feb. 1, 2026
Subscribe to Nagoya Buzz Events Calendar
Times:
Doors from late morning
Shows run all day
Price:
Advance tickets required
Single-day pass: approx. ¥5,000–¥6,000
Two-day pass: approx. ¥9,000–¥11,000
Purchase HERE
(Note: there is a separate drink charge at each venue)
Website:
https://derarockfes.radcreation.jp/
Jan. 31 Schedule
Feb. 1 Schedule
Access
By Subway:
Most venues are within walking distance of Sakae Station (Higashiyama Line / Meijo Line)
Check out our handy guide to using the Nagoya Subway
VENUE MAP
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