The accelerating rhythm of two hardwood clappers signals the opening of the curtain: an audience of several thousand watches as the immense stage is revealed. At its rear are eight singers, eight players of three-string, banjo-like instruments, five drummers and a flautist, all male and wearing matching kimono with broad-shouldered waistcoats and skirt-like trousers. A flute melody in free rhythm – a slow sliding stream of intervals, which may strike Western ears as otherworldly – accompanies the entrance of a samurai character, to enthusiastic yells from the audience. In stylised speech he introduces himself, and sets the scene. The lead singer launches into a slow chant-like song, accompanied by two hand-drums. Between drum-strokes, the drummers shout like martial arts competitors: yooo! ho! ya! ha!

Soon the banjos join in in unison, and the music becomes more rhythmic and melodic, the vocalists seeming to chase the string tune, a split-second behind the strongly-plucked beats. Actors enter along a runway passing through the audience, who shout further cries of encouragement. The flute re-enters, its melody seemingly unrelated to the voices and strings. At a dramatic climax the hero – a powerful warrior-priest – strikes an exaggerated pose, arms akimbo, eyes crossed. Accenting his pose, a deep-voiced stickdrum sounds from behind a screen offstage to the left, while – barely visible to the far right – a man in black pounds on a wooden board with two hardwood bars.