***I used three different translation programs to try and write “Ado at Prudential Center in Newark” in Japanese. If it’s incorrect, please let me know in the comments!
Review by Holly Van Ness
Featured Images from Shore Fire Media
Sabrina doesn’t like when we curse in reviews. “It’s unprofessional,” she tells us. I digress, of course, since there’s no better descriptor than a good old bad word. But Sabrina’s wishes reign supreme, and with that, I would like to extend my deepest apologies to Sabrina Amoriello as I talk about how absolutely-fucking-nothing could have prepared me for seeing Ado live.
When I stepped into the Prudential Center on Tuesday, August 5th, I knew approximately four things about the concert I was about to see:
- Ado was an anonymous, faceless performer like Sleep Token and Ghost (have we ever seen Ado, Vessel, or Papa Emeritus in the same room?)
- Phones needed to be tucked away and turned off, meaning fans couldn’t take any photos, videos, or other recordings of the concert
- She sang a cover of “Unravel” from that Tokyo Ghoul anime I watched back in middle school (I think)
- I needed to get a light stick
As soon as I knew I would be attending the concert, I knew I wanted a light stick. Without the budget and time to procure an official Ado light stick, I quickly ordered a 2-pack from an online retailer, grabbed my camp bestie Oliwia (pronounced “Olivia”), and readied myself for my first ever J-Pop concert.
Sitting down in my seat felt like walking into a fever dream. Or maybe it’s just that Western concerts have completely warped my expectations of what a concert is supposed to be like. Either way, this was a totally new experience for me.
The biggest difference between this Ado show and every single other concert I’ve ever been to was Ado herself. Since she’s faceless, her very presence on stage is just a silhouette. Our view of her was nothing more than a shadow, but, although a bit surprising, wasn’t entirely unpleasant due to the actual star of the show: the visuals.
The set was a massive mesh of huge LED screens lining the entire stage, followed by another screen that moved up and down depending on the graphics displayed for the song being performed. Ado, at least her silhouette, stayed inside of a cage the entire show, putting on a wild performance within the small confinement. The screens played trippy, glitchy, or cinematic scenes, surrounding the cage and high-key blowing my mind for the entire hour and a half. The entire time Ado was on stage, I kept thinking to myself that there was no reason Ado needed to be doing all that. She’s entirely anonymous, more of a voice than anything else, and yet, she was still giving it her all inside that cage.
“Is it time for ‘Unravel?’” I asked Oliwia when the current song ended.
“No,” Oliwia said, “Maybe later.”
Going back to the phone thing; there were no annoying screens to light up during the best part of a show, no standing still and filming for any Instagram stories, no recording the whole show to post on TikTok and spoil the setlist for fans. When a woman behind us tried to sneak a video, we glanced over our shoulders as an employee quickly made his way to her and made her delete the recording on the spot. At Western concerts, it’s rare to see someone without their phone held high above their head. But honestly? It was kind of refreshing to just sit and watch the show. There was a strange sense of freedom in knowing we were all present, experiencing something in the moment, and not worrying about trying to curate the perfect post for social media.
The crowd was also absolutely fascinating. I saw adults, children, adults with children, couples, best friends, groups of middle-aged women, etc. Practically any type of person you can imagine was at that Ado concert. Each time she opened her mouth, the entire venue held its breath. It was raw and eccentric and exhilarating all in the best way. It felt less like a concert and more like an intimate movie premier. Which is probably fitting considering Ado described the show as her “Live Performance Movie.”
“Is it time for ‘Unravel’ now?” I asked after the final encore.
“I don’t think she’s going to play ‘Unravel,’” Oliwia responded.
Instead of phone flashlights and screens, fans held up intentional, synchronized light sticks adorned with Ado-inspired imagery. My $12 fake light stick wasn’t as flashy, but the official ones pulsed with the music and changed color with each song to match the theme and visuals. It was perfectly interactive, enough to make fans feel included in the concert experience but also enough to remind them to stay grounded.
As Oliwia drove us back home after the concert, I did some more research on Ado. The production level of this tour is massive and I quickly assumed that Ado had been around for a while, building her name little by little. Instead, I found out that Ado had only been around since 2020 and was only 22 years old. Younger than me. Yeah.
She started as a Vocaloid cover singer and quickly grew to an anime-inspired idol. I wondered how Ado became so popular so fast in a culture that almost wants to keep their local talent a secret, how she’s only five years into her musical career and is already pulling off massive world tours with insane theatrical production design, a completely anonymous persona, no pandering, or no casual content drops. Ado defies what Western musicians work their asses off for years and years with little return on investment. It shouldn’t work. And yet…
Maybe her success all comes down to the One Piece thing. Her work as Uta in One Piece Film: Red slingshotted her into a totally new universe as the film and soundtrack went viral everywhere. (Thank you TikTok for exposing Americans beyond the Western Billboard Top 100.)
At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter how Ado rose to global stardom. What matters is that tens of thousands of people came together to witness a young Japanese woman nearly sell-out an entire arena tour across The United States, under a government that would’ve preferred she stayed at home. And she did it without showing her face, without chasing Western trends, and without diluting the culture and roots that make her music so distinctly Japanese. Ado is a mirror of her generation, of my generation; doing her best to be individualistic, quietly rebelling against the big man, and coming of age in a world grappling with an uncertain future.
In an interview with Daniel Robson with The Guardian, Ado said, “When I was a kid, I had hoped for the future, but the future we’ve got is different—for better and for worse…I’ve been lucky enough to achieve my ambitions, but a lot of young people in Japan might not even know what their ambitions are. The unknown future fills them with anxiety, and even the prospect of a normal life feels stifling…I hope the future brings more opportunity for people to live how they want to live. I’m still young, but through my music, I want to light the way and offer hope to others.”
That tension, that push and pull between possibility and surrender, courses its way through every lyric Ado sings and threads into her very being. Ado sings for a generation that doesn’t always know what it wants but knows that it wants something else. It wants a future that feels livable, breathable.
And when I stood in that packed arena, surrounded by all of those people with their fingers wrapped so incredibly tight around their light sticks it was like they were afraid to let go, I felt it. And I want that, too.
“Can you play the Unravel cover?” I asked in the car ride home.
Oliwia sighs. “Okay Siri,” she said. “Play Unravel by Ado.”
Ado | Instagram | Staff Instagram | Spotify | Apple Music
REMAINING SHOWS:
Honolulu, HI
Blaisdell Arena
Aug 24, 2025
Doors 18:30
Show 20:00
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