One of the hallmarks of Sled Island is their guest curation program, wherein each edition of the festival selects an act who will not only perform themselves, but choose some of the other acts that will appear on the lineup. Japanese punks Otoboke Beaver had the honour of helping programmers shape the fest this year, highlighting a bevy of artists from the US and overseas that they love, including the Mummies, Black Ends and DMBQ.
Otoboke Beaver's own headlining performance was a sold-out affair, with people cramming into the Palace Theatre — decidedly not a very punk venue — early in hopes of finding a decent spot to watch them from. After locals Brain Bent, the 1,200-capacity venue was fairly well full for BB BOMB, a veteran Taiwanese band playing in Canada for the first time. Their enduring brand of Ramones-esque power chord blitzes made me feel like I had stepped inside an alternate Scott Pilgrim vs. The World reality, but maybe that's just because their name is so dangerously close to Sex Bob-Omb.
Before Otoboke Beaver came on, an announcement told the crowd not to throw their empty bottles and cans on stage. So naturally, as soon as the band started playing, a water bottle was airborne from the mezzanine. After a can nearly hit vocalist Accorinin during the second song, she had to take a pause from cracking her mic cable like a whip to reiterate the announcement. "This is a fire I don't want to spread," she said sternly, and the audience responded by chanting, "Don't throw drinks."
And honestly? That seemed to work. Unfortunately, projectiles would be the least of Otoboke Beaver's worries, as technical difficulties set in with Hirochan's bass early in the night. Somehow, instead of improving with the audio team's reconfigurations, they seemed to get worse — to the point where we couldn't hear her at all. Everybody loves a good bassist joke, but at the end of the day, they're really important. Take one listen to an Otoboke Beaver song like "Don't light my fire" and tell me otherwise.
Hirochan seemed frustrated and dejected, leaving the stage at one point while her bandmates did their best to move the show along. Tasmanian devil-shredder Yoyoyoshie, evidently voted the best English-speaker of the group, vamped while amps were moved and connections were tested, telling an endearingly winding story about going to a local steakhouse.
UPDATE (6/25, 12:40 p.m. ET): Otoboke Beaver have issued a statement regarding the performance, noting that Hirochan had been experiencing some health issues, prompting her to leave the stage to catch her breath. Sled Island had arranged a resting place for her, and had an EMT on standby to oversee her well-being so she could perform rather than cancelling the show.
The guitarist repeatedly gushed about how happy Otoboke Beaver were to be here, and that they were wearing new dresses they'd bought in town. "Are you ready, Calgary?" she would snarl frequently between the colourful blasts of melody — and while the crowd seemed to be, the equipment stood firm in its disagreement. By the halfway point of the set, people started to trickle out of the once-packed house, correctly guessing that the issues with Hirochan's bass weren't going to be fixed.
Ever the consummate professionals, the band made the most of a situation that would strike fear into even the most seasoned of performers: being on stage in a country that does not speak your first language, with zero sound coming out of the bass. They did their utmost to keep the energy up when the crowd was losing patience; Yoyoyoshie was a hero, not only as a guitarist or hype woman, but as a conduit for expressing Otoboke Beaver's sheer enthusiasm for being a part of Sled Island and playing in Calgary.
It was genuinely heartening, and even if the group's raucous, garage-y riot grrrl-indebted tunes aren't your thing, they were so damn likeable and had such amazing stage presence that they could win over nearly anyone. The year may be 2025, but for many stuck in the past, four Japanese women wearing cute dresses isn't necessarily the platonic punk ideal. Otoboke Beaver made a case for themselves as some of the hardest players in the scene anywhere in the world — and, as exemplified by the inflatable beaver inner tube they tossed into the audience during their encore, they've found a true kind of kinship here in Canada.