The Birthday - 春雷

This performance comes from the Blu-ray included in the Limited First Press Edition of the album SUNBURST, featuring footage from the “GLITTER SMOKING FLOWERS TOUR 2020” — the band’s only solo tour that year. Although released in 2021, brand-new copies are still available through official channels. The setlist includes many standout tracks from their catalog, and I highly recommend it. "SUNBURST": https://www.universal-music.co.jp/the-birt... ------ This introduction was written in Chinese and translated via Gemini and ChatGPT. As my English is not yet strong enough for me to translate independently, the English lyrics were also translated by Gemini directly from the Japanese original. I have personally proofread and adjusted the lyrics to better align with the song’s rhythm and tempo. Your understanding is much appreciated. My first encounter with “Shunrai” was through the footage of the “GLITTER SMOKING FLOWERS TOUR 2020” included in the first-press edition of SUNBURST. At first listen, Chiba Yusuke’s staccato delivery, accompanied by sparse bass notes, left me with a strangely casual impression. For a moment, I wondered if it was closer to a poem than a song. Just as the thought crossed my mind, the vocals ceased. What remained was a loose ensemble of drums, guitar, and bass—a performance so mellow it was almost lulling. The guitar did not rush; it lingered in its vibratos, slowly gathering energy. Midway through, it responded to the quickening drums, breaking through the clouds and striking the earth. A wall of sound, woven from dense notes, followed, and in that moment, the rain began to fall. “The Birthday is not a band sustained by vocals alone.” That was simply the feeling I was left with after the track ended. Though originally a work from the Imai era, this performance saw Fujii revisiting one of the band’s early pieces during the tour marking his tenth year with the group. In the original version, Imai’s guitar felt like an insect long hidden underground, finally releasing what it had carried for years — something restrained yet resolute. Fujii’s tone, by contrast, carries less of that withheld tension. It feels more like a quiet, self-contained pride. The guitar phrases rise one after another, as if carrying an emotion that can no longer remain buried, a kind of forward momentum that recalls a sprout breaking through the soil — unexpectedly touched with the air of spring. In the traditional Chinese system of the Twenty-Four Solar Terms, between “Beginning of Spring” and “Spring Equinox” lies a period called “Jingzhe” — the Awakening of Insects. As the weather turns warmer, spring thunder is said to roll across the sky once more, and the creatures that have lain dormant begin to stir. This is what we call “Jingzhe.” This is the feeling I get from The Birthday’s “Shunrai.” The creatures may not awaken because of the thunder itself. Yet without that first crack of spring thunder, something in the feeling of spring would be missing.