ONE OK ROCK’s Taipei Dome Shows Spark Earthquake-Like Vibrations—and a Fiery Response from Taiwan’s “Queen of Concerts”

By Daniel Lee, Entertainment Editor

April 28, 2026

TAIPEI — When Japanese rock sensation ONE OK ROCK stormed Taipei’s Dome over the weekend, they didn’t just make history—they rattled the city. The band’s back-to-back performances on April 25 and 26 drew nearly 70,000 fans, setting a latest benchmark as the first Japanese act to headline the venue. But the ground-shaking energy that electrified the crowd left nearby residents feeling anything but thrilled.

Complaints poured in almost immediately, with locals describing the two-hour concerts as a “man-made earthquake.” Some took their grievances to neighborhood leaders and city hotlines, questioning why major events are almost always scheduled for evening hours. The backlash quickly became a hot topic online—until one of Taiwan’s most outspoken concert promoters stepped in with a blunt reality check.

“So Should We Hold Concerts at Dawn?”

Chiu Kwan, the media-savvy founder of Kuan Fish International—and a power player in Taiwan’s live music scene—didn’t mince words. In a Facebook post that went viral, she fired back at critics with a series of pointed questions: “So what’s the alternative? Hold concerts at dawn? During work or school hours? Should people skip work or classes to attend? Or are we only supposed to sell tickets to the unemployed, dropouts, and retirees?”

Her no-nonsense response struck a chord with fans and industry insiders alike. “She nailed it,” one commenter wrote. “Concerts are for people who actually have lives—and those lives don’t start at 9 a.m.”

Chiu, often dubbed the “Queen of Concerts” in Taiwan, knows the business inside out. Her company has brought global stars like Taylor Swift and BTS to the island, and she’s gearing up for another major event next month: two sold-out shows by Singaporean pop icon Stefanie Sun at the same venue.

A Rock Show or a Seismic Event?

The controversy highlights a growing tension in urban entertainment hubs like Taipei, where iconic venues like the Dome sit in densely populated neighborhoods. For ONE OK ROCK’s fans, the concerts were a dream come true—two nights of high-energy performances that cemented the band’s status as a global force. But for residents living within earshot, the experience was less magical.

“It felt like an earthquake for two straight hours,” one local told reporters. “We get that concerts are exciting, but this was disruptive.” Another resident questioned the timing, asking, “Why does it always have to be at night?”

City officials took notice. Taipei’s Sports Bureau reportedly stepped in, urging organizers to tighten crowd control and encouraging fans to “clap instead of jump” during the shows. Some concertgoers, however, weren’t thrilled with the suggestion. “It’s a rock concert—what do they expect?” one attendee said. “If One can’t jump, what’s the point?”

Event staff were seen circulating through the crowd, gently reminding fans to dial back the jumping, but the request left many feeling conflicted. “We want to respect the neighbors, but we also want to enjoy the show,” another fan admitted. “It’s a tough balance.”

Industry Reckoning

The debate over ONE OK ROCK’s Taipei shows reflects a broader challenge for the live entertainment industry: how to balance the demands of passionate fans with the realities of urban living. As major venues like the Dome become increasingly central to global tours, cities worldwide are grappling with similar issues—from noise complaints to traffic congestion.

For now, Chiu’s unfiltered seize has become the rallying cry for those who argue that concerts are, by nature, disruptive—and that’s part of the appeal. “If you want a quiet night,” she seemed to suggest, “maybe don’t live next to a world-class arena.”

As for ONE OK ROCK, the band’s historic Taipei run may have left a few windows rattling, but it also left an indelible mark on the city’s music scene. And if the sold-out crowds are any indication, fans are already counting down the days until the next big act takes the stage—earthquake warnings be damned.