Three Bands, One Saturday
And the Sound of Something Real
December 6 at Slow Blues
by Doug Breté
I already know how December 6 will feel.
Not because I've been there—the calendar hasn't flipped yet—but because I've been to enough Saturday nights at enough small rooms to know exactly how the shape of it will land. The sound, the smell, the moment when the room stops being a collection of strangers and becomes something else. I've watched it happen at Apollo's, at Hunny Bunny, at Seven Bridges (RIP) back when it was The Plastic Factory. I've watched it happen at Slow Blues more times than I can count.
So when I close my eyes, I'm already there. December 6. Three bands. A throng who came because they needed to be close to something that means it.
The room compresses when Dragonfly hits the fourth bar of "Home."
Bob's fingers are already somewhere else—chasing a line that's half-written in muscle memory, half-pulled from the air above the amps. Frank's bass sits underneath it all, patient and certain, holding the structure while Ryo's guitar layers in from the side like light through blinds. The chorus opens up and suddenly Bob's singing about roads and rails and feeling like a holograph, wheels flicking by like seconds—and the whole thing lands exactly where it should. You're hearing a song that knows where it's going.
The Sapporo in my hand will have gone warm. I won't care. The guy next to me will be nodding, eyes closed, mouthing something. The couple at the back table will have stopped talking three songs ago. This is what people look like when they've stopped pretending they're anywhere else.
Slow Blues will smell like every small club that ever mattered—spilled beer, old wood, cables and sweat and the faint metallic tang of a sound system that's been pushed hard and earned every scratch. The lights are low enough that you can see the stage clearly but nothing else demands your attention. The ceiling's close. The kick drum hits you square in the chest. When Bob leans into the mic and the band drops to let him ride the line—I'm going now to roam, it's taking me back home—it won't be performance. It'll just be what's true right now.
Then they'll be gone. Four musicians, a flush of songs—and the knowledge that you just watched a working band do what working bands do when they mean it.

But let me back up.
All We Become will open the night at 19:30, and if you're not paying attention, you'll miss the point. This is a three-piece that builds songs like architects—patient, deliberate, unafraid of space. Juan on guitar and keys, Mika on guitar, Shea on drums. All of them handling vocals when the song asks for it, but mostly letting the instruments do the talking.
They write in the lineage of Explosions in the Sky and Caspian—post-rock that breathes, that knows when to stay quiet and when to detonate. But there's weight here too, Gojira-style heft in the low end, math-rock intricacy in the guitar work. They're new to Nagoya's scene—formed just last year after meeting at a local music event—but they're already carving out space at Stiffslack and rooms like this, where people come to listen.
Live, they're locked in. The kind of tight you only get from players who've done the work in the rehearsal room, who treat every show like it matters because it does. Songs shift and build without showboating, and by the time they finish their set, the room will have settled into that focused hum you get when a crowd knows they're watching something real take shape.

Gaultier Blues Band will follow at 20:30 and flip the energy completely. This is a covers band—old-school blues, rock'n'roll, R&B hits from the '70s and '80s—but they're not here to phone it in. Gaultier Mulot on drums, Koichi Nozawa on harp, Masayuki Wani on bass, Takashi on keys, and Screamin' Aoyama on guitar and vocals. Five players who know the songbook cold and aren't afraid to make it swing.
The song selection is impeccable—standards and deep cuts that remind you why these songs became standards in the first place. Screamin' Aoyama's guitar work is sharp and unfussy, Nozawa's harp cuts through exactly when it should, and the rhythm section just grooves. No pretense, no reinvention, just five musicians delivering the goods with the kind of ease that only comes from years of playing together. By the time they hit their last number, half the room will be tapping along, and the bartender will be grinning.

Slow Blues isn't trying to be anything other than what it is—a 50-cap live room that's been here since 1998, tucked into a low-rise off Meitō Hondōri, a short walk from Hoshigaoka Station. The stage is close. The sound system is tuned for impact. The staff know the regulars by name, and the posters on the walls tell you everything you need to know about what this room values.
It's old-school in the best sense—built for players and listeners, not foot traffic. Weekdays, you'll find open jams and free sessions. Weekends are for full sets, local heroes, and bands that treat a 50-person room like it's the only room that matters. The vibe is low-lit and conspiratorial, conversations soft between sets, everyone leaning in. When the lights shift and the first chord rings out, people stop talking without being asked.
This is where the music lives.
And on December 6, it will be Something REAL.
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The Details
Something Real
Date: Sat. Dec. 6, 2025
Entry: ¥2,000 (Includes 1 drink)
Open: 18:30
Featuring:
All We Become at 19:30
Gaultier Blues Band at 20:30
Dragonfly at 21:30
Venue: Slow Blues
Address:
1F Sunshine Nishiyamaguchi
3-3 Meito Hondori
Meito-ku Nagoya,
Tel: 090-4191-9030
Website: http://slowblues.com
Access
By Subway:
Higashiyama Line to Hoshigaoka Station, Exit 4 or 5.
Walk east along Meitō Hondōri to the third intersection (Nishimaguchi). Slow Blues is on the left in a white building.
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Doug Breté
Stirred, not shaken - by anyone or anything that drinks vodka martinis. Author of the forthcoming "Out of Breath - Kim Jung Un and the Baby of Svendalore."
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