Your buddy asks if you're up for a night of dancing and you're likely to think: crowded, sweaty hall, vibrating with a booming backbeat.

But what about Japan's traditional summer Bon dancing?

While most young people today may cringe at the thought, a generation or two ago, the local matsuri was as popular with young people as clubs are today.

"At that time, I'm sure the wadaiko drumbeat really heated things up," says Kaori Asano, a wadaiko drummer with 10 years' experience. Asano, who recalls her own youthful reaction to the traditional dancing with mock disgust ("Please, I'm not an old lady!"), is now trying to bring that vibrant matsuri spirit back, in a form young people will really dance to again.

"Dance is an expression of joy, and when people are joyful it naturally inspires a feeling of appreciation. This is the heart and soul of the matsuri."

The form it takes is Gocoo, the 12-member wadaiko band Asano founded in 1997. Since their debut at the techno music festival Rainbow 2000 Mount Fuji that year, Gocoo has taken its enthusiastic sound to outdoor festivals, events and clubs across Japan.

The group, whose average age is about 30, is also known for supporting environmental causes, performing at international conferences and ecological events. In May, Benetton introduced its new line of clothing to Gocoo's live accompaniment.

The players, most of whom have worked together previously, hold open-studio workshops up to 16 times a month in Tokyo, Saitama and Yokohama for anyone interested in learning to play wadaiko. Noting "there aren't many places where people who want to can try their hand at this," Asano says her aim is to make it possible for everyone who is so inclined to learn, whatever shape drumming takes in their lives.

"I'd like to make it a place that opens roads for people," she says.

As one aspect of this work, since 1993 Asano has held classes with the residents of a Yokohama group home for people with light mental and physical disabilities. She writes about some of her experiences there in her 1996 Japanese-language introduction to the world of taiko, "Taiko o Utsu! (Strike the Drum!)," published by Bakushusha.

She has seen taiko become a part of people's lives, and also change them. Playing taiko, Asano explains, puts people in touch with their strengths, helping them realize and even achieve what they want in other aspects of their life. Any number of times, after coming to lessons for a while, a student has found the confidence to change jobs, move or adjust the direction they were taking.

"When you play wadaiko, you get so you can't lie to yourself," she says.

But for all the underlying thought, Gocoo's appearance on stage is anything but philosophical. Asano typically stands front and center carrying the melodic voice of the music. She is an effervescent, dancing performer, arms akimbo, her mane of curly hair in freefall.

"The singing part that I play is like the dancing monkey, and the members who keep the rhythm are the ringleader, who makes the monkey dance," she laughs.

In performance, the songs' cyclical rhythmic patterns are interspersed with stretches of improvisation. Gocoo's free-spirited sound is the product of hours of experimentation, though, and they don't take even the shape and sound of their instruments for granted.

Gocoo performs with some 30 different types of drums, and while all are traditional wadaiko, they aren't necessarily familiar to the eye. Traditionally, different festivals and craftsmen around the country produced a multitude of drum styles.

"We often get asked what country a particular drum comes from," Asano notes. "Actually, with some of the drums, it almost would be more convincing to the person asking us just to say it's from Africa."

In their quest for interesting sounds, Gocoo continually searches for unique variations on drum styles. But when members want a sound they haven't yet found, they are likely to make a drum of their own. The trial-and-error process, from concept to playable instrument, takes anywhere from a week to several months.

While players accompany some songs with voice, a digiridoo or the rainstick, "fundamentally, I would like to write songs that use various arrangements of drums only," Asano said.

"Having pieces that are complete as drum-only works is a point of pride with us."

Take wood, cowhide and rope. Add to that the strength of a skilled player and the emotional range of the human personality. What you can inspire, Asano professes, is the wellspring of joy and power within each member of an audience.

For such a large group (or perhaps because of it), Asano's emphasis on the message each individual player has to offer (or listener receives) is notable.

"I think the most important thing is what gets expressed when the instrument and the player connect," she says. "When the player connects with the drum, the strength with which they strike the drum and their inner strength connect."

In Asano's conception, when Gocoo's performers express themselves in a simple and bare relationship with the drum, they can relate "the messages that each has from the time we are born."

And when that message connects with the listener, there again, the true, envigorating spirit of the matsuri is born.

"It sounds trite to put it into words like 'love' and 'joy,' but at the moment people feel unconditional love and joy, they feel their strength.

"This is what I hope we can create in our two hours on the stage."