Having escaped the adverse effects of force majeure, I was able to attend the wonderful concert on August 28 and today’s concert.
Grand Concerto 2026
Date and time: Sunday, August 30, 2026, 2:00 p.m. start (doors open at 1:00 p.m.)
Venue: The Symphony Hall
Conductor: Sachio Fujioka
Orchestra: Kansai Philharmonic Orchestra
Program (in performance order)

1. Shu Katayama: Piano Concerto (newly commissioned work, world premiere)
   Piano and composition: Shu Katayama
2. Rachmaninoff: Piano Concerto No. 2 in C minor, Op. 18
   Piano: Miyu Shindo
3. Tchaikovsky: Piano Concerto No. 1 in B-flat minor, Op. 23
   Piano: Yukine Kuroki
   Today, for the first time, I headed there by taxi so that I would arrive one hour before the performance began.
   As previously stated, although I learned of this concert a considerable time after ticket sales had begun, I was fortunate enough to obtain one ticket for the first floor and one ticket for a second-floor balcony seat.
   Having seen an article stating that a small number of same-day tickets would be sold, I thought that the kind of seat I wanted might be available, and therefore headed there in time for sales to begin at 1:00 p.m.
   Because the temperature had risen sharply and it was hot, I went in extremely light clothing: thin summer jeans, thin summer running socks, AIRism underwear, and an oversized short-sleeved shirt…this, and just before the performance began, I wanted something sweet, so I ordered coffee inside the hall, put in two spoonfuls of sugar, and drank it.
   Forgetting that coffee cools the body and, moreover, has a diuretic effect.
   I suddenly felt uneasy, so I asked my best friend to drink half of it, but he refused, saying, “If I drink coffee, I’ll need to go to the toilet…”
   At that point, I had no way of knowing that this matter would bring about the final force majeure.
   Now,
   Because there was not a single first-floor ticket available, I checked the view from my seat…a place where I had never sat before…and from my best friend’s seat.
   It was an enjoyable time.
   The Symphony Hall should by now be like someone else’s garden whose every corner I know, but this was the first time I had viewed the whole of it as I did today.
   It was fun.
   I recognized once again that The Symphony Hall is a hall with superb acoustics.
   I see, this is where they film the performances, etc.
   It was truly enjoyable.
   My best friend says that he loves the balcony seats on the second floor.
   Hmm.
   My seat was also truly excellent.
   I could clearly see the pianist’s fingering.
   Because arriving one hour early was a first for me, there was plenty of time…that this would bring about the final force majeure…
   For the reason stated above, while I was drinking coffee in the lounge inside the hall for the first time, Mr. Fujioka’s pre-concert talk began.
   I returned to my seat before it had ended.
   The main subject of the pre-concert talk was the first performer, Mr. Shu Katayama, and the work receiving its world premiere.
   The performance began.
   I was truly astonished.
   It was the greatest and finest surprise I had experienced since returning to classical concerts.
   I found you.
   My genius responded to his talent.
   The music I had wanted to hear was there.
   This is truly the music of the present day.
   Whatever music I have heard until now has, on average, been a work from 200 years ago, or even earlier.
   Incidentally, I have absolutely no interest in so-called contemporary music…of the kind represented by Schoenberg.
   That does not mean I do not listen to it; it means that even when I hear it, I do not feel that I want to hear it.
   If that is what they call contemporary music, I say no.
   If that is the case, I could go so far as to say that the Beatles, Bob Dylan, or the greatest rock bands and singers are far superior.
   To begin with, I have no interest whatsoever in discussing classical music pedantically.
   Nor do I have any interest whatsoever in people who discuss it pedantically, and I find no value in them.
   To put it extremely, I feel only a sense of dubiousness.
   Music…this is a statement in my own style, but music is not something to talk about; it is something to feel.
   Music alone possesses a body, and the concert hall is a place where one feels resonance.
   That is why I have profound dissatisfaction and concern about the present situation in Japan.
   Is it truly acceptable for the greatest historic performance to exist only for that one moment?
   If so, does that performance have any meaning?
   What value is there in something that immediately disappears and can never be reproduced?
   We live in an age when even fireworks can be broadcast live—which means they can be recorded.
   Is it acceptable to confine music solely within the concert hall?
   Is that not an affront to the art of music?
   Are we not merely turning music itself into a culture of consumption?
   Why do they not immediately make historic performances known to people throughout the world?
   It does not have to be free.
   Why should people not pay for it?
   I am convinced that this is the only path that will lead to improved treatment for orchestra members.
   Of course, the best world would be one inhabited only by politicians who recognize the importance of the art called classical music and understand, as a matter of course, that the salaries of the members of the outstanding orchestras in every region should be higher than those of NHK employees.
   To put it extremely, that is probably something like an unattainable dream.
   Today is the digital age, the age of the Internet.
   If this writing of mine is writing that pierces the truth, a “like” will arrive from a French performer immediately after I publish it.
   That is the present day.
   It would not be an exaggeration to say that, until now, the people involved in classical music have been living in the fossil age.
   Why, today, Shu Katayama’s historic work…a work of the twenty-first century that has finally appeared; no, a work of now.
   The finest masterpiece of our time.
   The present is beautiful; in many respects, the present is more wonderfully beautiful than the centuries that came before it.
   The present is splendid.
   In many respects, it is more splendid than 300, 200, or 100 years ago.
   Today, Shu Katayama expressed and completed that fact through music, through resonance.
   It was the birth of a rare masterpiece.
   It was two o’clock in the afternoon when the work of now that I had long awaited with all my heart, the finest resonance in the world, was born.
   After the performance ended, several words spontaneously.
   Naturally came from my lips.
   “Bravo.” “Great.” “Genius.” “Beautiful.” “You are the best.”
   Although I did not utter it, the most fitting words would probably have been, “I found you.”
   Genius knows genius.
   I offer infinite praise to the genius of Shu Katayama.
   The matter of encountering the final force majeure mentioned in this text will be taken up in the next chapter or thereafter…