Recommended listening: Hells Bells by AC/DC.
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Knebworth.
A remote location in England that barely appeared on any maps.
Over Knebworth Park, situated in this humble region, the sunset was beginning to bleed beautifully across the sky.
Knebworth Park, which existed primarily because most of the area was unoccupied wasteland, was the largest mega-concert venue in the UK, capable of accommodating 250,000 people.
In this place, where only the stars among stars with absolute ticket power were permitted to perform, the highlight of Enfants Terribles' third album tour was about to unfold.
"Whose idea was it to only do three days? Even seven days wouldn't have been enough!"
For context, the number of people who attempted to book tickets was approximately 16 million—roughly 25% of the UK population. Among them, only 750,000 were lucky enough to set foot in Knebworth.
Yet, that alone was sufficient to set the record for the highest attendance in British history. To put it another way, Enfants Terribles were about to write a new page in the history books of the United Kingdom.
"This is going to be historic!!!"
In a Britain thrown into chaos by the Great Recession—triggered by the subprime mortgage crisis in the US—and the subsequent 'September Movement' sparked by citizens' fury at the exposed limits of the social system, the hottest topic of conversation was: "What will Enfants Terribles show us next?"
True to their name, Enfants Terribles had consistently whipped crowds into a frenzy with all sorts of unpredictable performances.
"Didn't they do an EDM-concept show in France? The members were panting amazingly hard after that, right?"
"Did you see that video? In Italy, that guy Sakamoto fell while walking out on the protruding stage and grabbed his leg. It was fucking hilarious."
"What kind of stage will they bring this time? Those guys are different from the other rookies."
The air was thick with the chatter of expectation. However, there was someone who wasn't entirely pleased with the talk.
"Oi! If you're a band, shouldn't you just focus on singing well? Performance? That doesn't keep the vibe alive! At the end of the day, a band has to speak through their songs! If it were me, I wouldn't have done it that way!"
This was Robert Plant, a man known for his good looks in the West Midlands of England. He had become a fan as if by destiny after hearing 'Stairway to Heaven,' the first single Enfants Terribles released even before their full-length album.
Robert Plant was particularly infatuated with Shuji and the band for creating such a masterpiece of the century.
Of course, he had never actually been to one of their concerts until now.
The reason was simple: he had lost the ticket war so many times it felt like God was personally hindering him.
"Getting a look at their faces is bloody difficult," he grumbled.
He muttered while waving the ticket he'd obtained through a stalker who had been following him around.
"Dammit! This internet booking thing or whatever is so fucking hard!"
Though he was still a young man, for some reason, the internet proved to be an insurmountable challenge for him.
There are way too many people here.
Until now, no singer had truly 'filled' Knebworth Park to this extent. The previous record for Knebworth House was held by that moron Robbie Williams back in 2003, who drew 120,000 people.
But Enfants Terribles' solo concert was set to surpass all of that.
No matter what, songs are everything to a band. The rest is just window dressing.
Of course, Enfants Terribles' skill was undeniable. Having secured the ticket through some 'adult business' with his stalker, he knew he wouldn't regret coming.
It was just his firm belief that a band's performance shouldn't be excessive, so the band's obsession with stage production felt slightly uncomfortable to him.
It would have been a disaster if I'd gotten standing tickets.
Having started an indie band called The Yardbirds, Robert Plant knew the terrifying power of a stadium crowd.
Watching the ocean of people swaying in the standing area made him click his tongue in awe.
Look at those fucking lights... how many are there? In the pubs I play at, I'd be grateful for just three.
The first thing that commanded attention on stage was an obscene number of massive, majestic spotlights. Enfants Terribles were already famous for their masterful use of light.
Watching the lights pan and adjust their angles in perfect sync was enough to inspire reverence in anyone running a band.
Though Robert Plant was conservative regarding stage setup, he had no issue with the use of light. Without light, how could a star communicate with the audience?
"What is that stupid protruding thing? It's not like they're some pop dance group shaking their arses."
But there was one thing he hated: the catwalk—a stage extension rarely seen in rock bands. For idols, sure, but for a band, a protruding stage often lowered the quality of the live audio.
"Enfants Terribles are bigger idiots than I thought! A band has to make their stand with the music!"
"I don't think that's necessarily true. Rather, those things provide a sense of variety, don't they?"
Robert Plant turned his head to see a long-haired man with an East Asian appearance approaching with a smile.
"I'm Jimmy Page. I'm a fan of those rascals."
"Robert Plant. Do those morons do this sort of thing often?"
"Often. But they pull off incredible things without ever losing their rock fundamentals. I have my own band, too, but I'm often struck by how great they are."
Since the man spoke so highly of them, Robert Plant decided to reserve judgment for a moment.
Shortly after, the giant LED screens behind the stage began to flash numbers, signaling the start. They were accompanied by a spectacular dance of pyrotechnics and lasers.
10
9
8
7
.
.
.
.
0
As the countdown reached zero, the lights began to extinguish one by one.
Then, a massive, tolling bell began to resonate in the ears of Jimmy Page and Robert Plant.
—Dong! Dong!
Simultaneously, on a massive set located beside the main stage, the members of Enfants Terribles began to hammer on a giant gate that looked like the entrance to Hell. The size of the gate was abnormal—a ten-meter-high monolith fit for a Demon King.
The tolling grew louder. Dong! Dong!
As the sound reached a deafening roar, the massive gates swung open, and the members of Enfants Terribles revealed themselves.
Behind Enfants Terribles, a horned demon of immense size, boasting muscles like Ronnie Coleman, struck a 'front double biceps' pose, manifesting its majesty.
As the demon shifted into a 'side chest' pose, the ten-meter gate slammed shut with a thunderous CRASH!
"I've never heard this song before."
"Enfants Terribles are famous for debuting new tracks at their live shows. Judging by this style, it looks like Yokishi composed this one?"
Jimmy Page explained kindly to Robert Plant.
Whatever the case, seeing a giant demon strike a 'front double biceps' pose and hearing a brand-new song at a live show was a first for Robert Plant.
Then, the stage lights moved. They shifted away from the main center stage where bands usually performed, illuminating the protruding catwalk.
At the center of the protruding stage stood Hide. At the other three points extending toward the audience were Shuji, Yokishi, and Sakamoto respectively.
This... if you look at it closely, it looks like a ship's steering wheel.
A direct, primal melody surged forward. As flames and light swirled, Hide's rasping, gravelly vocals and the skilled playing of the other members began to churn the air of Knebworth Park.
"This is... actually impressive. They're getting that kind of sound on a protruding stage? Without hand-syncing?"
As someone who managed a band, Robert Plant had suspected hand-syncing, but looking at the side of the stage, he could clearly see amplifiers with wires connected. It was the real deal.
"Wait? Then what about the center stage?"
With that question, Plant looked back toward the center. There, he saw a duplicate of Yokishi's drum kit.
"They solved it by just putting two sets out? That's a brutally simple solution."
"They struggled with the drums during the last tour, so they seem to have found their own answer."
"Mr. Plant! Look over there!"
Shuji was performing his trademark, goofy 'snake dance,' while Sakamoto shook his head and body, radiating pure excitement.
And Hide was singing in what had now become his signature pose—hands clasped behind his back, leaning forward with his hips pushed out.
Robert Plant watched the performance with the feeling of a junior learning from his seniors. From the standing area, he was close enough to see the members right in front of him.
The rascals of Enfants Terribles were flaunting their talent, playing their hearts out right next to him.
The protruding stage... it's more useful than I thought.
Food always tastes better when you can see the cooking process with your own eyes. The same logic applied to music.
The protruding stage allowed the audience to see the members more vividly, accentuating the band's strengths.
"Hahaha! I called them morons? I was the fucking idiot!"
Enfants Terribles were still providing lessons to the bands that would follow them. They were the group boasting the most flamboyant performance in the current rock scene.
At the same time, they were the band guiding the direction of countless groups springing up like mushrooms across the globe.
Two great men who would one day form the band known as Led Zeppelin were receiving a masterclass at Knebworth from those even greater than themselves.