Photos by Ryan Bruss.
Potrait with Yumi Miyagishima and Winchester Nii Tete.
Kuraki Noh in Yokohama Dec. 6, 2008.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Poetry on Noh Stage
Photos by Ryan Bruss.
Potrait with Yumi Miyagishima and Winchester Nii Tete.
Kuraki Noh in Yokohama Dec. 6, 2008.
Poetry on Noh Stage
Photos by Ryan Bruss.
Poet Yuri Kageyama.
Percussionist Winchester Nii Tete.
Poetry at Kuraki Noh in Yokohama.
Dec. 6, 2008
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
More poetry and percussion on the Noh Stage
Little YELLOW Slut
Poetry by Yuri Kageyama
Kpanlogo percussion by Winchester Nii Tete
You know her:
That Little YELLOW Slut, proudly gleefully
YELLOW-ly hanging on Big Master's arm,
War bride, geisha,
GI's home away from home,
Whore for last samurai,
Hula dancer with seaweed hair,
Yoko Ohno,
Akihabara cafe maid,
Hi-Hi Puffy Ami/Yumi,
Kawaiiii like keitai,
Back-up dancer for Gwen Stefani,
Your real-life Second Life avatar
Eager to deliver your freakiest fetish fantasies,
Disco queen, skirt up the crotch,
Fish-net stockings, bow-legged, anorexic, raisin nipples, tip-toeing Roppongi on
Stiletto heels.
Yessu, i spikku ingrishhu, i raikku gaijeeen, they kiss you,
hold your hand, open doors for me,
open legs for you, giggling pidgin, covering mouth,
so happy to be
Little YELLOW Slut.
Everybody's seen her:
That Little YELLOW Slut, waiting at
Home, cooking rice, the Japanese
Condoleezza Rice,
Smelling of sushi,
Breath and vagina,
Fish and vinegar,
Fermented rice,
Honored to be
Cleaning lady,
Flight attendant for Singapore Airlines,
Charlie Chan's Angel,
Nurse maid, gardener, Japan-expert's wife,
Mochi manga face,
Yodeling minyo, growling enka,
Sex toy, slant-eyes closed, licking, tasting, swallowing STD semen,
Every drop.
Yessu, i wanna baby who looohkuh gaijeen, double-fold eye, translucent skin, international school PTA,
maybe grow up to be fashion model, even joshi-ana,
not-not-not happy to be
Little YELLOW Slut.
I recognize her:
That Little YELLOW Slut, rejecting
Japanese, rejected by Japanese,
Ashamed,
Empty inside,
They all look alike,
Faceless, hoping to forget, escape
To America,
Slant-eyed clitoris,
Adopted orphan,
Dream come true for pedophiles,
Serving sake, pouring tea, spilling honey,
Naturalized citizen,
Buying Gucci,
Docile doll,
Rag-doll, Miss Universe, manic harakiri depressive, rape victim, she is
You, she is me.
Hai, hai, eigo wakarimasen, worship Big Master for mind, matter, muscle, money, body size correlates to penis size,
waiting to be sexually harassed, so sorry, so many,
so sad to be
Little YELLOW Slut.
Poetry by Yuri Kageyama
Kpanlogo percussion by Winchester Nii Tete
You know her:
That Little YELLOW Slut, proudly gleefully
YELLOW-ly hanging on Big Master's arm,
War bride, geisha,
GI's home away from home,
Whore for last samurai,
Hula dancer with seaweed hair,
Yoko Ohno,
Akihabara cafe maid,
Hi-Hi Puffy Ami/Yumi,
Kawaiiii like keitai,
Back-up dancer for Gwen Stefani,
Your real-life Second Life avatar
Eager to deliver your freakiest fetish fantasies,
Disco queen, skirt up the crotch,
Fish-net stockings, bow-legged, anorexic, raisin nipples, tip-toeing Roppongi on
Stiletto heels.
Yessu, i spikku ingrishhu, i raikku gaijeeen, they kiss you,
hold your hand, open doors for me,
open legs for you, giggling pidgin, covering mouth,
so happy to be
Little YELLOW Slut.
Everybody's seen her:
That Little YELLOW Slut, waiting at
Home, cooking rice, the Japanese
Condoleezza Rice,
Smelling of sushi,
Breath and vagina,
Fish and vinegar,
Fermented rice,
Honored to be
Cleaning lady,
Flight attendant for Singapore Airlines,
Charlie Chan's Angel,
Nurse maid, gardener, Japan-expert's wife,
Mochi manga face,
Yodeling minyo, growling enka,
Sex toy, slant-eyes closed, licking, tasting, swallowing STD semen,
Every drop.
Yessu, i wanna baby who looohkuh gaijeen, double-fold eye, translucent skin, international school PTA,
maybe grow up to be fashion model, even joshi-ana,
not-not-not happy to be
Little YELLOW Slut.
I recognize her:
That Little YELLOW Slut, rejecting
Japanese, rejected by Japanese,
Ashamed,
Empty inside,
They all look alike,
Faceless, hoping to forget, escape
To America,
Slant-eyed clitoris,
Adopted orphan,
Dream come true for pedophiles,
Serving sake, pouring tea, spilling honey,
Naturalized citizen,
Buying Gucci,
Docile doll,
Rag-doll, Miss Universe, manic harakiri depressive, rape victim, she is
You, she is me.
Hai, hai, eigo wakarimasen, worship Big Master for mind, matter, muscle, money, body size correlates to penis size,
waiting to be sexually harassed, so sorry, so many,
so sad to be
Little YELLOW Slut.
Poetry at Kuraki Noh _ Loving Younger Men
Loving Younger Men by Yuri Kageyama.
Winchester Nii Tete odono (talking drum) and Keiji Kubo didgeridoo.
"Talking Taiko" at the Kuraki Noh Theater, Yokohama, Japan, Dec. 6, 2008
Only the bodies of young men aroused her;
the pure innocence in their wide dark eyes,
the wild still animal strength in their muscles,
the smoothness of their skin, so shiny, stretched
out over their boy-like shoulders, flat stomachs,
abdominals rippling gently, their thick thighs
that could thrust forever into the night, their
soft moist lips, where their tonges, so delicious,
dwelt, which darted against, into her vagina,
making her moan with joy, forgetting everything,
which felt so strong against her own tongue at one
moment, yet another, seemed to melt like caramel
in the back of her throat,
their dry fingers, that touched her in the most
unexpected and expecting spots,
their penises, half-covered by their black curls,
seemed smaller, less developed, less threatening,
yet as their shoulders strangely widened
when they held her, their penises filled her,
pointed against her deepest uterine insides,
hurting her with a pleasurable pain, as though
she could sense with her hand, their movements
from outside her belly. Her father beat her as a girl.
She ran from him, crying, please don't hit me! please
don't hit me! No, rather she stood defiant, silent,
silent tears drunk down her chest, till he, in anger
or fear,
slapped her again and again, once so hard she was
swung across the room, once on her left ear so
that she could not hear for three weeks. She
frequented bars, searching for young men who desired
her. She sat alone drinking. She preferred
the pretty effeminate types _ perfectly featured,
a Michelangelo creation, island faces with coral eyes,
faces of unknown tribal child-princes. To escape
her family, she eloped at sixteen, with an alchoholic.
who tortured her every night, binding her with ropes,
sticking his penis into her mouth until she choked,
hitting her face into bruises, kicking her in
the stomach, aborting her child, his child.
The young boys' heads, she would hold, after orgasm,
rocking them in her arms. She would kiss the side of their
tanned necks, breathe in the ocean scent of their hair,
lick their ear lobes and inside their ears. When they
fell asleep, sprawled like a puppy upon her sheets,
their mouths open, she would lie awake watching,
watching, watching, admiring their bodies, how so
aesthetically formed, balanced, textured. What
she enjoyed the most was their fondling her breasts,
suckling, massaging the flesh, flicking the tongue
against the nipple, biting, sucking till her nipples
were red-hot for days. She could come just by this,
without penetration.
When she is alone, she cries. In the dark, she reaches
upwards, into the air, grabbing nothing.
Winchester Nii Tete odono (talking drum) and Keiji Kubo didgeridoo.
"Talking Taiko" at the Kuraki Noh Theater, Yokohama, Japan, Dec. 6, 2008
Only the bodies of young men aroused her;
the pure innocence in their wide dark eyes,
the wild still animal strength in their muscles,
the smoothness of their skin, so shiny, stretched
out over their boy-like shoulders, flat stomachs,
abdominals rippling gently, their thick thighs
that could thrust forever into the night, their
soft moist lips, where their tonges, so delicious,
dwelt, which darted against, into her vagina,
making her moan with joy, forgetting everything,
which felt so strong against her own tongue at one
moment, yet another, seemed to melt like caramel
in the back of her throat,
their dry fingers, that touched her in the most
unexpected and expecting spots,
their penises, half-covered by their black curls,
seemed smaller, less developed, less threatening,
yet as their shoulders strangely widened
when they held her, their penises filled her,
pointed against her deepest uterine insides,
hurting her with a pleasurable pain, as though
she could sense with her hand, their movements
from outside her belly. Her father beat her as a girl.
She ran from him, crying, please don't hit me! please
don't hit me! No, rather she stood defiant, silent,
silent tears drunk down her chest, till he, in anger
or fear,
slapped her again and again, once so hard she was
swung across the room, once on her left ear so
that she could not hear for three weeks. She
frequented bars, searching for young men who desired
her. She sat alone drinking. She preferred
the pretty effeminate types _ perfectly featured,
a Michelangelo creation, island faces with coral eyes,
faces of unknown tribal child-princes. To escape
her family, she eloped at sixteen, with an alchoholic.
who tortured her every night, binding her with ropes,
sticking his penis into her mouth until she choked,
hitting her face into bruises, kicking her in
the stomach, aborting her child, his child.
The young boys' heads, she would hold, after orgasm,
rocking them in her arms. She would kiss the side of their
tanned necks, breathe in the ocean scent of their hair,
lick their ear lobes and inside their ears. When they
fell asleep, sprawled like a puppy upon her sheets,
their mouths open, she would lie awake watching,
watching, watching, admiring their bodies, how so
aesthetically formed, balanced, textured. What
she enjoyed the most was their fondling her breasts,
suckling, massaging the flesh, flicking the tongue
against the nipple, biting, sucking till her nipples
were red-hot for days. She could come just by this,
without penetration.
When she is alone, she cries. In the dark, she reaches
upwards, into the air, grabbing nothing.
Friday, December 5, 2008
African and Japanese Percussion
ISAKU KAGEYAMA, award-winning taiko drummer, and WINCHESTER NII TETE, acclaimed African percussionist, meet for a conversation using the universal language of music. The duo’s music, deeply rooted in the traditions of Japan and Ghana, flows like a conversation between two close friends, with jokes, laughter, questions, and their answers scattered throughout the evening.
EDO BAYASHI CONVERSATIONS
Taiko and African Percussion Performance
Isaku Kageyama (taiko), Winchester Nii Tete (African Percussion),
Daisuke Watanabe (taiko), Chris Holland (taiko)
FRI Jan. 9, 2009 20:00 (Doors open 19:00)
Shinjuku Live Takanoya
5-2-3 Shinjuku Shinjuku-ku Tokyo 160-0022
3,600 yen (includes one drink)
All seats are non-reserved
For Tickets and More Information: Shinjuku Live Takanoya
TEL: 03-5919-0228
Sponsored by The Embassy of Ghana
ISAKU KAGEYAMA – http://www.isakukageyama.com
Isaku Kageyama is one of the bright young stars of premiere drum ensemble Amanojaku. Introduced to the traditional Japanese art form at the age of 6, Isaku is an expert at playing the Odaiko (large drum), and is a two-time National Odaiko Champion.
WINCHESTER NII TETE – http://www.niitete.net
Master percussionist Winchester Nii Tete hails from the honorable Addy-Amo-Boye families of drummers in Ghana. A complete and versatile musician, Winchester has performed with the Ghana national troupe, Sachi Hayasaka, Yoshio Harada, Takasitar, Naoki Kubojima, Tsuyoshi Furuhashi and many other artists.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Story of Miu 12
Reading at the Kuraki Noh Theater Dec. 6, 2008
with Yumi Miyagishima on violin, playing "Sleep" by Kyosuke Koizumi and Winchester Nii Tete on kpanlogo percussion.
Story of Miu 11 including links to previous entries.
I'm sitting in a stuffy waiting room, not bothering to wonder why the others _ troubled looking women of all ages and shapes _ would need to be there.
It is clear birth is not the reason we are all here, even the nurses in pale pink outfits and the feminist gynecologist with the stern voice.
I am too nervous and worried to feel shame or guilt.
I just want Miu to come out from behind the curtains where she has gone _ safe and alive and in one piece and the job done.
This is not a good feeling.
But this is all I can think.
We have all been there _ our legs open _ to remind us of what we did, not with just anyone but a man we truly loved but maybe who didn't love us enough _ the chilly metal enters like an uncutting but unfeeling knife, merciless, guiltless, sinless until our drugged minds leave us _ start counting: one, two, three, four _ like angels who have given up.
And we feel nothing and we remember nothing.
We do not think of the baby that was, that could have been, that never was.
It is a tiny wormlike thing that must be removed like a bloody tumor because it is not a human being yet.
And I only want her to come out of there from behind the sterile curtains, safe and healthy and smiling.
I know she doesn't want to part with this human being that never was.
She wanted it to go on and on, feeling that person inside of her.
"It's not something to do immediately; that's not right," she says. She has waited a week alone. She has not told anyone.
I don't realize this: All I am thinking about is her, not the thing that is inside of her.
But the baby who never was is that grandchild who never was, the future of the race, generations to come, who looks like your grandfather, your father, your son, the man you love, those little feet that run to you and bring snotty cheek against cheek, filled with life when you are only nearing death.
When she finally comes out of her drugged sleep, walks courageously to me in the waiting room, faking a smile, her breath smells like an old woman.
=THE END=
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Taiko lessons
Isaku Kageyama, who has studied with Tokyo's top taiko group Amanojaku since he was 6, is offering taiko drumming lessons in English.
The first lesson is FREE OF CHARGE so if you are an English speaker, or someone who wants to learn English and taiko at the same time:
December 2, 2008 from 19:00 – 20:30 at Igusa Kumin Center TEL: 03-3398-9125
(5-7-22 Shimo Igusa Suginami-ku Tokyo 167-0022)
December 11, 2008 from 19:00 – 20:30 at Takaido Kumin Center TEL: 03-3331-7841
(3-7-5 Takaido Higashi Suginami-ku Tokyo 168-0072)
January 20, 2009 from 19:00-20:30 at Eifuku Izumi Kumin Center TEL: 03-5300-9411
(3-8-18 Izumi Suginami-ku Tokyo 168-0063)
January 27, 2009 Tuesday 19:00-20:30 at Takaido Kumin Center TEL: 03-3331-7841
(3-7-5 Takaido Higashi Suginami-ku Tokyo 168-0072)
Fees: NO CHARGE for your first visit. 8,000 yen for 2 lessons a month or 4,000 yen a month with student ID).
For more information, call Isaku at 090-8506-9885
E-mail: isaku.kageyama@amanojaku.info
Amanojaku is led by Yoichi Watanabe, Hiromi Ogawa and Mayumi Kawana.
Amanojaku's forte is Watanabe's superb compositions that blend elements of modern music with the roots of Tokyo-style festival music.
No other taiko group in the world boasts such strong original compositions, which are narratives of Watanabe's creative vision that is constantly evolving.
Friday, November 28, 2008
Noh Theater Stages Percussion and Poetry
Winchester Nii Tete and I are at a tiny Tokyo cafe in this photo.
On SAT. Dec. 6, we take centerstage at a Noh Theater in Yokohama called Kuraki.
The organizers wanted "something different" _ and so they got US!
Violinist Yumi Miyagishima, Keiji Kubo on didgeridoo, filmmaker Yoshiaki Tago, Tago's cameraman Terada, Ghana singer Robby and photographer Ryan Bruss will join us.
I must confess it feels good to read in artistic spaces (as opposed to smoke-filled dives).
Many, many years ago, I read among Isamu Noguchi sculpture pieces at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art.
As far as arty spots to read in, it's hard to top that, wouldn't you say _ with his signature "akari" lights and well-like pits he created with textured wood.
I worked with Japanese American artists _ actor Marc Hayashi and jazz saxist Gerald Oshita for that event _ which seems such a long time ago _ but strangely like yesterday.
The memories of those friends are as dear to me as our collaborations.
I have lost touch with many of these people.
If anyone comes across this blog and wants to reconnect _ poets, dancers, musicians, filmmakers _ please leave a comment.
Friday, November 21, 2008
Hybrid Soul _ Proof That Taiko Rocks
Eclectic and unexpected, Hybrid Soul (photo by Ryan Bruss) brings together rock 'n' roll with taiko (traditional Japanese percussion) to deliver a modern version of "Bon" (summer festival) folk tunes.
ISAKU KAGEYAMA (center) on taiko; CHRIS YOUNG (right) on guitar and PAT GLYNN (left) on bass.
The group made its debut at Mandala in Minami Aoyama, Tokyo, Nov. 11, 2008. (Another clip.)
Stay tuned for more.
Friday, November 14, 2008
Edo Bayashi Conversations: A Heart-to-Heart Talk Between Japan and Ghana
Winchester Nii Tete, master percussionist from Ghana, joined a fascinating exchange _ quite literally, the talking drum _ with Japanese taiko by Daisuke Watanabe and my son Isaku Kageyama at Buddy in Tokyo Nov. 14, 2008.
It was still the first performance for the trio _ Edo Bayashi Conversations _ but that made it so fresh, totally titillating and fearlessly provocative.
How taiko rhythms sound juxtaposed with African rhythms is like savoring neo-cuisine gourmet _ the blend of the unexpected that's utterly delightful.
The more these young musicians learn from each other and apply the lessons to their own genre, the more wonderful the Music can be that springs from this disarming group.
Just seeing how well they play together _ and so naturally _ gives listeners a good feeling _ maybe even hope for world peace, if that's not saying too much.
The three young men have so much in common, although they are from different nationalities and musical backgrounds.
They share the same challenges of making their own the tradition of their musical legacy.
They also share the mission of trying to surpass the masters who came before them to add their own mark on that legacy.
It's a wonderful idea that the men from Ghana, Japanese and Japanese-American backgrounds may hope to help each other achieve those goals.
Musicianship is not about competing with other players, Winchester says with a far wiser look than his 20-some years might be expected to bring in his eyes.
Music is about giving your 100 percent to make listeners happy.
Too many musicians make the mistake of seeing a stage as a place for proving you're better than someone else _ when no one really cares about that.
And so if you play your heart out, the rest will take care of itself.
It was still the first performance for the trio _ Edo Bayashi Conversations _ but that made it so fresh, totally titillating and fearlessly provocative.
How taiko rhythms sound juxtaposed with African rhythms is like savoring neo-cuisine gourmet _ the blend of the unexpected that's utterly delightful.
The more these young musicians learn from each other and apply the lessons to their own genre, the more wonderful the Music can be that springs from this disarming group.
Just seeing how well they play together _ and so naturally _ gives listeners a good feeling _ maybe even hope for world peace, if that's not saying too much.
The three young men have so much in common, although they are from different nationalities and musical backgrounds.
They share the same challenges of making their own the tradition of their musical legacy.
They also share the mission of trying to surpass the masters who came before them to add their own mark on that legacy.
It's a wonderful idea that the men from Ghana, Japanese and Japanese-American backgrounds may hope to help each other achieve those goals.
Musicianship is not about competing with other players, Winchester says with a far wiser look than his 20-some years might be expected to bring in his eyes.
Music is about giving your 100 percent to make listeners happy.
Too many musicians make the mistake of seeing a stage as a place for proving you're better than someone else _ when no one really cares about that.
And so if you play your heart out, the rest will take care of itself.
Other Music in Tokyo 2
British singer Kevin Gray has a very gentle, unpretentious and nice-guy voice that's the kind of person he is himself.
He had a party for his new CD "Shipwrecked" in Tokyo Nov. 9, 2008.
I won two bottles of Australian wine, courtesy of the embassy, with a raffle ticket.
Cheers!
Other Music in Tokyo
American singer Tiffany appears at an opening party for a photo exhibit by Hozumi Nakadaira at Art cafe in Tokyo, Oct. 6.
Her voice is at times sparkling like crystal, sometimes sultry like velvet --- wow, what cliches. Hey, what they say about great jazz voices happens to be true.
Tiffany has that voice, and all the nice techniques to match, which go to show that great jazz is live and well in Tokyo _ of all places.
It was the perfect place to hear a voice like hers _ surrounded by the gorgeous black-and-white prints of jazz giants like John Coltrane, Theolonius Monk and Miles Davis.
Nakadaira says digital photos aren't real photos.
For one, they are just coding and are apt to even vanish _ like a glitch or virus, if you don't watch out.
Photos _ the kind that are painstakingly, lovingly printed in dark rooms _ they are real.
Like art works, they may fade but they last an eternity, he tells me, noting he still has rolls and rolls of film of concerts he can barely remember the dates and places of, although, of course, he remembers the Music, note for note, almost, maybe not quite, but ringing years after the musicians have died, in his ears, in his photos.
From Yuri To Yuri: A Contemporary Renku Poem
From Yuri To Yuri: Japanese Womanhood Across Borders of Time
A Contemporary Renku Poem (A Work in Progress).
By Yuri Matsueda and Yuri Kageyama
Read at What the Dickens in Tokyo Oct. 5, 2008.
(1)
20年後あるいは30年後かの自分と対峙し
瞳の深淵をそっと覗き見る
睫毛の長さ
目元の影
声の艶
足首の締まり
それらは注意深く観察される
わずかな欲望はざらついた嫉妬へ
嫉妬は称賛
安堵へ
その移ろいをゆっくりと舌先で転がす昼下がり
私たちは松檮を歩いていた
(2)
pale hands folded over silken robes
music tangled like wind among pine trees
she waits, waits, waits for her daimyo lover
i can’t love a man i can’t respect
i fall for men who’re no good for me
i won’t love a man who might destroy me
her breasts grow fuller with each breath
she knows he will return in the darkness
her tongue is dry and sallow
i can’t resist a man who means danger
his cocky sneer, his sword, his dreams,
his probing lips and fingertips
(3)
月に照らされ
家族を忘れ
あなたを忘れ
過去を忘れ
大気を切り抜け
時間を走り
窓はふさがれ
耳はふさがれ
体はしめられ
心翔る
自由である
夜間飛行
(4)
walking
the path of time of generations of memories of ignorance
all the forgotten women
all the forgotten lovers
all the forgotten babies
walking
past Shibuya cobblestones of footprints of dreams of death
fading love hotels
gleaming boutiques
salesmen passing tissue to no one
walking
faceless voices blend with sirens and cicadas
overheard giggles
sheer wisps of thoughts
too lazy to speak the truth or lies
at dusk
(5)
一本先へ
一本奥へ
円山町を背にして
蝉の声に誘われ
さまよう
女二人
不意に途切れた
鳴き声の間に
白い腹をみせた
亡骸をまたいで
羽を散らした体を尻目に
松涛求めて
喘ぎ歩くも
跡なくあてなく
日、翳る
(6)
dot and line, dot and line
like marching ants spilling
from score sheets to table to equator to nightmares
black notations of silent thoughts of music
muted ramblings of an obscure composer
puttering notes only he and i can hear
fragments of jazz rhythms
broken crazed despised
did you know Ingmar Bergman was terrified of death
but as he grew older, as he approached that dreadful moment,
he was no longer afraid
did you know life is forever
when death comes
there will be no life to feel
i was lost when i was your age
you will help me find myself
at your age
with this poem
A Contemporary Renku Poem (A Work in Progress).
By Yuri Matsueda and Yuri Kageyama
Read at What the Dickens in Tokyo Oct. 5, 2008.
(1)
20年後あるいは30年後かの自分と対峙し
瞳の深淵をそっと覗き見る
睫毛の長さ
目元の影
声の艶
足首の締まり
それらは注意深く観察される
わずかな欲望はざらついた嫉妬へ
嫉妬は称賛
安堵へ
その移ろいをゆっくりと舌先で転がす昼下がり
私たちは松檮を歩いていた
(2)
pale hands folded over silken robes
music tangled like wind among pine trees
she waits, waits, waits for her daimyo lover
i can’t love a man i can’t respect
i fall for men who’re no good for me
i won’t love a man who might destroy me
her breasts grow fuller with each breath
she knows he will return in the darkness
her tongue is dry and sallow
i can’t resist a man who means danger
his cocky sneer, his sword, his dreams,
his probing lips and fingertips
(3)
月に照らされ
家族を忘れ
あなたを忘れ
過去を忘れ
大気を切り抜け
時間を走り
窓はふさがれ
耳はふさがれ
体はしめられ
心翔る
自由である
夜間飛行
(4)
walking
the path of time of generations of memories of ignorance
all the forgotten women
all the forgotten lovers
all the forgotten babies
walking
past Shibuya cobblestones of footprints of dreams of death
fading love hotels
gleaming boutiques
salesmen passing tissue to no one
walking
faceless voices blend with sirens and cicadas
overheard giggles
sheer wisps of thoughts
too lazy to speak the truth or lies
at dusk
(5)
一本先へ
一本奥へ
円山町を背にして
蝉の声に誘われ
さまよう
女二人
不意に途切れた
鳴き声の間に
白い腹をみせた
亡骸をまたいで
羽を散らした体を尻目に
松涛求めて
喘ぎ歩くも
跡なくあてなく
日、翳る
(6)
dot and line, dot and line
like marching ants spilling
from score sheets to table to equator to nightmares
black notations of silent thoughts of music
muted ramblings of an obscure composer
puttering notes only he and i can hear
fragments of jazz rhythms
broken crazed despised
did you know Ingmar Bergman was terrified of death
but as he grew older, as he approached that dreadful moment,
he was no longer afraid
did you know life is forever
when death comes
there will be no life to feel
i was lost when i was your age
you will help me find myself
at your age
with this poem
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Taiko Rocks With Hybrid Soul _ Live Version
Hybrid Soul delivers electric "Souran Bushi" _ Dokkoi dokkoi!!
Hybrid Soul brings together:
ISAKU KAGEYAMA, an award-winning traditional Japanese taiko drummer from Tokyo, Texan guitarist CHRIS YOUNG and
PAT GLYNN, an accomplished Broadway musician hailing from the wilds of New Jersey.
Three different perspectives but one common vision.
By experimenting with Western rock, jazz, blues and latin elements, Hybrid Soul breathes new life into the culturally and musically rich tradition of Japanese folk songs.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Taiko Rocks with Hybrid Soul
Hybrid Soul made its debut Tuesday Nov. 11, 2008, at Minami Aoyama Mandala in Tokyo _ bringing together the rock guitar of Chris Young and bass of Pat Glynn with the taiko beat of my son Isaku Kageyama.
They played Bon songs of Japanese traditional minyo folk music _ Soran bushi, Yagi bushi, Tanko bush, etc. (The top is a studio recording _ not from the concert _ but gives you a bit of an idea of what's cooking.)
The evening was an eye-opener in showing how the songs sounded different when played in that context _ but also how freshly and genuinely good they sounded _ simply as tunes.
Japanese tend to tune out with these old songs, heard over and over again, and associated with old people and old times _ songs that blend into oblivion.
But rearranged and electrified as "gaijin" rock, they suddenly commanded attention.
And one realizes how well crafted they are and how beautiful they are as pieces of modern music.
Juxtaposition/hybrids/marginality do tend to have a convenient knack for highlighting what gets otherwise overlooked.
This may sound like a contradiciton.
But in being non-Japanese did Bon songs turn Japanese!
It's great.
The band got a grand reception at Mandala _ pretty good for a first performance.
We hope there will be more performances ahead to hear new takes, new ideas, new solos.
One of the teachers suggested maybe one tune could have had Isaku on bells in "a battle" against the guitar and bass.
The club owner suggested filling out the program with more straight-ahead taiko, including a trademark o-daiko (giant drum) performance.
I thought they could use minyo calls like "oi oi," "sore sore" (or whatever they are) as a very easy way to get the crowd roused up in the obligatory audience-participation shtick of live-house concerts.
Maybe guest soloists and singers will join the group in future concerts.
Ideas abound.
The performance felt really short _ we wanted more.
Isaku grew up hearing the electric guitar of his father, who worships Jimi Hendrix as well as studied Wes Montgomery, Larry Carlton, Pat Metheny, Larry Coryell and other greats.
And so it was probably a natural choice for him to bring together that childhood sound _ still ringing somewhere in his subconscious _ with the beat of taiko, which is his life.
It was moving to see that as parents.
It was also a lesson _ as all parental experiences tend to be.
It was a reminder that all we can hope for in our art is to be ourselves.
And that is, after all, the sole purpose of art.
Saturday, November 8, 2008
Poetry and Percussion on the Noh Stage
Winchester Nii Tete and I will be at the Kuraki Noh Theater _ a beautiful place that's been the stage for Japanese National Treasures.
SAT Dec. 6, 2008. 7:30 p.m.
Click here for directions on how to get there.
We may seem so different at first glance but I feel that we are one and we share so much.
Our statement is unique and shows we can all come together in self-expression and understanding in music, literature, truth and integrity.
You have to hear his music live to feel the tones and the depth of the sound that spans back generations from Ghana.
I don't want to get carried away and call it a Miracle.
But it's special that his African Sound will be on a Noh Stage of all places with my Japanese/American Word.
YURI KAGEYAMA's poetry and short fiction have appeared in “Y’Bird,” “Greenfield Review,” "San Francisco Stories," "On a Bed of Rice," "Breaking Silence: an Anthology of Asian American Poets," "Other Side River," "Yellow Silk," "Stories We Hold Secret," "MultiAmerica" and many other literary publications. She has read with Ishmael Reed, Shuntaro Tanikawa, Geraldine Kudaka, Victor Hernandez Cruz, Russel Baba, Seamus Heaney, Yumi Miyagishima and many other artists. Her short story “The Father and the Son” will be in a January 2009 anthology, “POWWOW: 63 Writers Address the Fault Lines in the American Experience,” edited by Reed with Carla Blank. She has a book of poems “Peeling” (I. Reed Press). She is working on a movie of her readings with Japanese director Yoshiaki Tago. She is a magna cum laude graduate of Cornell University and holds an M.A. from the University of California, Berkeley.
Master percussionist Winchester Nii Tete hails from the honorable Addy-Amo-Boye families of drummers in Ghana. He is the absolute performer delivering a finely textured repertoire of songs and dance centered around exuberant traditional rhythms that are a true testament of technical finesse and sensitive expressiveness. He has performed with the Ghana national troupe, Sachi Hayasaka, Isaku Kageyama, Yoshio Harada, Takasitar, Naoki Kubojima, Tsuyoshi Furuhashi and many other artists. He has played in various genres, including jazz, hip-hop, reggae, pop and world music. Accomplished on the kplango, talking drum and many other instruments of Ghana, he is a brilliant young star who is certain to follow in the footsteps of his legendary uncles Obo Addy and Aja Addy in gaining international acclaim. He has a CD of his music "BAA JO."
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Talking Taiko
Winchester Nii Tete and I presented our collaborative pieces of poetry with music Sept. 28, 2008 at Bunga in Tokyo.
Photo by Takashi Itoh.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Electric Bon Odori
Isaku is also doing this concert at Aoyama Mandala TUE Nov. 11, 2008,
with Chris Young on guitar, and Pat Glynn on bass.
Isaku is promising "a psychedelic roller-coaster ride."
Unlike a lot of taiko, the Amanojaku sound is Tokyo _ very "iki," funky and urban.
And so in essence it should fit rock and roll to paint a cosmopolitan cityscape of electric taiko.
20:00 (Doors open at 19:00)
3,000 yen admission.
For more information, call 090-8506-9885, or send e-mail: isaku.kageyama@amanojaku.info
Talking Taiko Again
EDO BAYASHI CONVERSATIONS
A COLLABORATION OF TRADITIONAL JAPANESE AND AFRICAN MUSIC
The Talking Drum takes an innovative turn when Isaku Kageyama, of Tokyo "taiko" _ or Japanese traditional drumming _ ensemble Amanojaku, gets together with Winchester Nii Tete, master percussionist from the Addy-Amo-Boye families of Ghana, for some serious heart-to-heart exchange in the universal language of music.
Isaku is my real-life son, and Winchester is dear to me like my son.
They have so much in common.
They are about the same age (in their 20s), both still man-child, grappling with the challenges of life.
They have both been playing music since they were children, and music is their passion and their life.
It's fascinating for me to see how the rhythms blend and form counterpoints to each other.
Isaku puts it like this: the music is like "a conversation between two friends, with jokes, laughter _ questions and answers."
I thank God Isaku has met someone like Winchester.
Artists are alone.
But they need peers _ fellow spirits.
Artists can endure all if they know at least one other artist he/she respects thinks what you're doing is pretty darn good.
And collaborating with Winchester gives you all that and more.
Daisuke Watanabe, also in his 20s, and son of Amanojaku leader and master composer Yoichi Watanabe, on taiko joins the Conversation.
Their first-ever collaboration "raibu" is at Ekoda BUDDY Friday, November 14.
20:00 (Doors open 19:00)
TEL: 03-3953-1152
Futaba Kaikan B2F Asahigaoka 1-77-8 Nerima-ku 177-0005
3,000 yen admission.
For more information, call 090-8506-9885, or e-mail Isaku at isaku.kageyama@amanojaku.info
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
SUN SEPT. 28
Sunday, September 28, 2008 6:30 p.m.
BUNGA a few minutes walk from Ogikubo Station on the Chuo Line. (TEL: 03-3220-9355)
3-1-5 Amanuma Suginami Tokyo 167-0032
2500 yen admission (plus 500 yen drink).
YURI KAGEYAMA’s works have appeared in “Y’Bird,” “Greenfield Review,” "San Francisco Stories," "On a Bed of Rice," "Breaking Silence: an Anthology of Asian American Poets," "Other Side River," "Yellow Silk," "Stories We Hold Secret," "MultiAmerica," and other publications. She has read with Ishmael Reed, Shuntaro Tanikawa, Geraldine Kudaka, Victor Hernandez Cruz, Russel Baba, Seamus Heaney, YUMI MIYAGISHIMA and many other artists. Her short story “The Father and the Son” will be in a January 2009 anthology, “POWWOW: 63 Writers Address the Fault Lines in the American Experience.” She has a book of poems, “Peeling” (I. Reed Press). She is a magna cum laude graduate of Cornell University and holds an M.A. from the University of California, Berkeley.
Master percussionist WINCHESTER NII TETE hails from the honorable Addy-Amo-Boye families of drummers in Ghana. He has performed with the Ghana national troupe, Sachi Hayasaka, Yoshio Harada, Takasitar, Naoki Kubojima, Tsuyoshi Furuhashi and many other artists. His repertoire is expansive, including jazz, hip-hop, reggae, pop and world music. Besides playing original compositions with poetry, he will deliver a taste of his exuberant, refined and eclectic sound with guest musician MASATO SUWA. He is a brilliant young star who is certain to follow in the footsteps of his legendary uncles Obo Addy and Aja Addy in gaining international acclaim.
Director YOSHIAKI TAGO (“Believer,” “Worst Contact”) joins in filming “Talking Taiko.” Violinist YUMI MIYAGISHIMA also appears as a special guest.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Short Story
Design by Annette Dorfman. Photo by Takashi Itoh.
Fifth Sunday Fiction Series Nov. 30, 2008, at Ben's Cafe.
Poet Yuri Kageyama reads her new short story, "The Father and the Son," in "POW-WOW: 63 Writers Address the Fault Lines in the American Experience," edited by Ishmael Reed with Carla Blank; Da Capo Press, January 2009.
The anthology also includes Langston Hughes, Toni Cade Bambara, Alejandro Murguía and Erskine Caldwell.
Kageyama’s poetry, short stories and essays have appeared in many literary publications, including “Y’Bird,” “Greenfield Review,” "San Francisco Stories," "On a Bed of Rice," "Breaking Silence: an Anthology of Asian American Poets," "Other Side River," "Yellow Silk," "Stories We Hold Secret" and "MultiAmerica." She has read with Ishmael Reed, Shuntaro Tanikawa, Winchester Nii Tete, Geraldine Kudaka, Victor Hernandez Cruz, Russel Baba, Seamus Heaney, Yumi Miyagishima and many other artists. She has a book of poems, “Peeling” (I. Reed Press). She is working with director Yoshiaki Tago on a film "Talking Taiko" that chronicles her readings with music. She is a magna cum laude graduate of Cornell University and holds an M.A. from the University of California, Berkeley.
Friday, September 12, 2008
To an Ex-Lover
Photo by KAZU NISHIO.
Violinist YUMI MIYAGISHIMA and Poet YURI KAGEYAMA at What The Dickens in Tokyo, SUN Sept. 7, 2008.
The poem is part of the program at "TALKING TAIKO," an evening of multicultural poetry and music with master percussionist WINCHESTER NII TETE at BUNGA 6:30 p.m. SUN Sept. 28.
TO AN EX-LOVER
First published in Oakland Tribune; one of the poems in "Peeling," by Yuri Kageyama.
You could only sleep, turned away. EVERY NIGHT, HIS BICEPS PILLOW MY HEAD.
You told me that she was a hard act to follow, being the daughter of your parents' friends. Before your parents came over, you hid my things in the closet.
My friends were too strange, you used to complain. That I stayed up till six in the morning, while you slept, and slept, while you worked, and was never hungry the same time you were. WHEREAS, AFTER NIGHT-LONG DISCUSSIONS, HE TAKES ME FOR DAWN-LIT SNEAKERED STROLLS ALONG THE BEACH.
I let dust collect on the kitchen table, left things here and there, like animal droppings, cluttering your cleanliness.
You felt sorry for me. You paid my bills, got me health insurance, provided me with gas cards and made me laugh with John Wayne imitations. Because I always sat pensive, with a sad distressed lonely look. Even now, you tell me I'm a zombie. HE LAUGHS THAT I'M ALMOST AS CRAZY AS HE IS HIMSELF.
You'd watched how your older brothers had hurt your parents, by becoming a musician, trying dope, dating Chinese, so you'd vowed to a way of spineless kindness, obsessed with moderation, avoiding conflict till you'd, at times, crunch onto the floor, holding in the tumor of self-denial within your brain.
WE WALK TOGETHER, GIGGLING IN J-TOWN, ARM IN ARM, BECAUSE THE "COMMUNITY" IS SO LUDICROUS SOMETIMES. While you told me, never to mention your name in J-town again. For, deserted in insecurity, I used to sit, gulping down bourbon bitterness, telling the blues, how I loved you and you didn't love me.
You loved me by fixing the car. You loved me by criticizing how I didn't dress San Francisco. You loved me by watching "Starsky and Hutch," sipping soda, after an eight-to-three-thirty school-teaching day. You loved me by telling me I could do whatever I wanted; you had no right to restrict my freedom. So I went discoing, while you visited your parents for the weekend. HE WANTS TO BE WITH ME. HE JUST TELLS ME, "DON'T FUCK AROUND."
I still don't smoke in front of you.
After I moved out and out of your life, you bought me sweetheart roses that never opened in the water. HE SURPRISES ME WITH AN ORCHID CORSAGE THAT BLOSSOMS WHITE-PURPLE WITH THE PRIDE IN THE LOVE WE FEEL.
You played the trumpet alone in the attic.
When I touched you, my fingers drained your energy. HE KISSES ME ON THE MUNI BUS.
You didn't know why I cried when you stated matter-of-factly, it took no talent to write poetry. You grin cynically over coffee at a shopping center, that now you never want a woman who's into art. You keep on telling me that you've seen the light; you want to get married within a year, and you're searching hard.
You faithfully attended family gatherings for Mother's Day, Father's Day, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's, Easter, piano and dance recitals, countless birthdays, and brought back roast turkey, potato salad, sushi and cake.
WE GO LISTEN TO JULIAN PRIESTER OR KEHVAN-LENNON-ONAJE, SEE ZATOICHI AND ITALIAN FILMS, DANCE TO VIVA BRAZIL ON LOMBARD STREET OR CHAKA KHAN IN THE DIMNESS OF HIS ROOM.
You said you loved me because I cooked relatively well and I had sweet mannerisms. I DON'T BOTHER ASKING FOR HIS REASONS.
You explained to me that I was not the type of woman you wanted for a wife. We were incompatible, despite our two years together. When you finally proposed, with tickets to Hawaii _ you realized that to take this plaything out of its glass case on the mantle, at your own leisure, could add excitement to your life _ when you finally declared your love, I had aborted mine long ago. HE SMILES TO ME, LET'S GET MARRIED TOMORROW; I REPLY, OKAY, LET'S.
HE THANKS ME FOR MY LOVE, FOR BEING AROUND.
HE NEVER TURNS AWAY, EVEN IN HIS SLEEP.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Reading Sunday, Sept. 28 in Tokyo
We are doing a reading with music later this month at a place called Bunga near Ogikubo station (Chuo Line) starting 6:30 p.m. (Poster design by Annette Dorfman/Winchester photo by Takashi Itoh)
Poet YURI KAGEYAMA and percussionist WINCHESTER NII TETE present “TALKING TAIKO,” a multicultural evening of the spoken word with music that challenges the boundaries of continents, genres and generations.
Yuri Kageyama’s poetry and short fiction have appeared in many literary publications, including “Y’Bird,” “Greenfield Review,” "San Francisco Stories," "On a Bed of Rice," "Breaking Silence: an Anthology of Asian American Poets," "Other Side River," "Yellow Silk," "Stories We Hold Secret" and "MultiAmerica." She has read with Ishmael Reed, Shuntaro Tanikawa, Geraldine Kudaka, Victor Hernandez Cruz, Russel Baba, Seamus Heaney, Yumi Miyagishima and many other artists. Her short story “The Father and the Son” will be in a January 2009 anthology, “Pow-Wow: 63 Writers Address the Fault Lines in the American Experience.” She has a book of poems, “Peeling” (I. Reed Press). She is a magna cum laude graduate of Cornell University and holds an M.A. from the University of California, Berkeley.
Master percussionist Winchester Nii Tete hails from the honorable Addy-Amo-Boye families of drummers in Ghana. He has performed with the Ghana national troupe, Sachi Hayasaka, Yoshio Harada, Takasitar, Naoki Kubojima, Tsuyoshi Furuhashi and many other artists. His repertoire is expansive, including jazz, hip-hop, reggae, pop and world music. Besides playing original compositions with poetry, he will deliver a taste of his exuberant, refined and eclectic sound with guest musicians and his students. He is a brilliant young star who is certain to follow in the footsteps of his legendary uncles Obo Addy and Aja Addy in gaining international acclaim.
Winchester Nii Tete and Yuri Kageyama met in Tokyo last year and have been working on collaborative pieces. Director Yoshiaki Tago (“Believer,” “Worst Contact”) joins as another collaborator in filming “Talking Taiko.”
Sunday, August 31, 2008
New title for the anthology
The anthology edited by Ishmael Reed, award-winning novelist and poet, with dancer/violinist Carla Blank, has a new title:
"POW-WOW: 63 Writers Address the Fault Lines in the American Experience."
January 2009: Da Capo Press.
I'm in good company _ Langston Hughes, Toni Cade Bambara, Alejandro Murguía, Erskine Caldwell, Kevin Powell.
Pre-order from Amazon!
"POW-WOW: 63 Writers Address the Fault Lines in the American Experience."
January 2009: Da Capo Press.
I'm in good company _ Langston Hughes, Toni Cade Bambara, Alejandro Murguía, Erskine Caldwell, Kevin Powell.
Pre-order from Amazon!
Friday, August 29, 2008
From Yuri To Yuri _ A Poem in Progress
From Yuri To Yuri
Japanese Womanhood Across Borders of Time
By Yuri Matsueda and Yuri Kageyama
2008 in Tokyo
(1)
20年後あるいは30年後かの自分と対峙し
瞳の深淵をそっと覗き見る
睫毛の長さ
目元の影
声の艶
足首の締まり
それらは注意深く観察される
わずかな欲望はざらついた嫉妬へ
嫉妬は称賛
安堵へ
その移ろいをゆっくりと舌先で転がす昼下がり
私たちは松檮を歩いていた
(2)
pale hands folded over silken robes
music tangled like wind among pine trees
she waits, waits, waits for her daimyo lover
i can’t love a man i can’t respect
i fall for men who’re no good for me
i won’t love a man who might destroy me
her breasts grow fuller with each breath
she knows he will return in the darkness
her tongue is dry and sallow
i can’t resist a man who means danger
his cocky sneer, his sword, his dreams,
his probing lips and fingertips
(3)
月に照らされ
家族を忘れ
あなたを忘れ
過去を忘れ
大気を切り抜け
時間を走り
窓はふさがれ
耳はふさがれ
体はしめられ
心翔る
自由である
夜間飛行
(4)
walking
the path of time of generations of memories of ignorance
all the forgotten women
all the forgotten lovers
all the forgotten babies
walking
past Shibuya cobblestones of footprints of dreams of death
fading love hotels
gleaming boutiques
salesmen passing tissue to no one
walking
faceless voices blend with sirens and cicadas
overheard giggles
sheer wisps of thoughts
too lazy to speak the truth or lies
at dusk
(5)
一本先へ
一本奥へ
円山町を背にして
蝉の声に誘われ
さまよう
女二人
不意に途切れた
鳴き声の間に
白い腹をみせた
亡骸をまたいで
羽を散らした体を尻目に
松涛求めて
喘ぎ歩くも
跡なくあてなく
日、翳る
(6)
dot and line, dot and line
like marching ants spilling
from score sheets to table to equator to nightmares
black notations of silent thoughts of music
muted ramblings of an obscure composer
puttering notes only he and i can hear
fragments of jazz rhythms
broken crazed despised
did you know Ingmar Bergman was terrified of death
but as he grew older, as he approached that dreadful moment,
he was no longer afraid
did you know life is forever
when death comes
there will be no life to feel
i was lost when i was your age
you will help me find myself
at your age
with this poem
Japanese Womanhood Across Borders of Time
By Yuri Matsueda and Yuri Kageyama
2008 in Tokyo
(1)
20年後あるいは30年後かの自分と対峙し
瞳の深淵をそっと覗き見る
睫毛の長さ
目元の影
声の艶
足首の締まり
それらは注意深く観察される
わずかな欲望はざらついた嫉妬へ
嫉妬は称賛
安堵へ
その移ろいをゆっくりと舌先で転がす昼下がり
私たちは松檮を歩いていた
(2)
pale hands folded over silken robes
music tangled like wind among pine trees
she waits, waits, waits for her daimyo lover
i can’t love a man i can’t respect
i fall for men who’re no good for me
i won’t love a man who might destroy me
her breasts grow fuller with each breath
she knows he will return in the darkness
her tongue is dry and sallow
i can’t resist a man who means danger
his cocky sneer, his sword, his dreams,
his probing lips and fingertips
(3)
月に照らされ
家族を忘れ
あなたを忘れ
過去を忘れ
大気を切り抜け
時間を走り
窓はふさがれ
耳はふさがれ
体はしめられ
心翔る
自由である
夜間飛行
(4)
walking
the path of time of generations of memories of ignorance
all the forgotten women
all the forgotten lovers
all the forgotten babies
walking
past Shibuya cobblestones of footprints of dreams of death
fading love hotels
gleaming boutiques
salesmen passing tissue to no one
walking
faceless voices blend with sirens and cicadas
overheard giggles
sheer wisps of thoughts
too lazy to speak the truth or lies
at dusk
(5)
一本先へ
一本奥へ
円山町を背にして
蝉の声に誘われ
さまよう
女二人
不意に途切れた
鳴き声の間に
白い腹をみせた
亡骸をまたいで
羽を散らした体を尻目に
松涛求めて
喘ぎ歩くも
跡なくあてなく
日、翳る
(6)
dot and line, dot and line
like marching ants spilling
from score sheets to table to equator to nightmares
black notations of silent thoughts of music
muted ramblings of an obscure composer
puttering notes only he and i can hear
fragments of jazz rhythms
broken crazed despised
did you know Ingmar Bergman was terrified of death
but as he grew older, as he approached that dreadful moment,
he was no longer afraid
did you know life is forever
when death comes
there will be no life to feel
i was lost when i was your age
you will help me find myself
at your age
with this poem
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Poetry and Percussion next month
Poster by Annette Dorfman
POETRY and PERCUSSION
BUNGA
SUNDAY Sept. 28 6:30 p.m.
Poet YURI KAGEYAMA and percussionist WINCHESTER NII TETE present “TALKING TAIKO,” a multicultural evening of the spoken word with music that challenges the boundaries of continents, genres and generations.
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Fiction at Ben's Cafe in Tokyo
I'm going to the Fifth Sunday Fiction Series at Ben's Cafe in Takadanobaba, Tokyo.
Sunday, August 31, 5 PM
I will read my short story "Seeds of Betrayal," published in this 1995 anthology "On a Bed of Rice," edited by Geraldine Kudaka.
The featured reader will be Janice Young, author of the novel "Sweet Dauma: a Japan Satire." Also reading will be Japan Times writer and novelist Michael Hoffman.
The host is Hillel Wright, author of "Border Town."
Little YELLOW Slut
Reworked to add a new line: "Charlie Chan's Angel"
Little YELLOW Slut
By Yuri Kageyama
You know her:
That Little YELLOW Slut, proudly gleefully
YELLOW-ly hanging on Big Master's arm,
War bride, geisha,
GI's home away from home,
Whore for last samurai,
Hula dancer with seaweed hair,
Yoko Ohno,
Akihabara cafe maid,
Hi-Hi Puffy Ami/Yumi,
Kawaiiii like keitai,
Back-up dancer for Gwen Stefani,
Your real-life Second Life avatar
Eager to deliver your freakiest fetish fantasies,
Disco queen, skirt up the crotch,
Fish-net stockings, bow-legged, anorexic, raisin nipples, tip-toeing Roppongi on
Stiletto heels.
Yessu, i spikku ingrishhu, i raikku gaijeeen, they kiss you,
hold your hand, open doors for me,
open legs for you, giggling pidgin, covering mouth,
so happy to be
Little YELLOW Slut.
Everybody's seen her:
That Little YELLOW Slut, waiting at
Home, cooking rice, the Japanese
Condoleezza Rice,
Smelling of sushi,
Breath and vagina,
Fish and vinegar,
Fermented rice,
Honored to be
Cleaning lady,
Flight attendant for Singapore Airlines,
Charlie Chan's Angel,
Nurse maid, gardener, Japan-expert's wife,
Mochi manga face,
Yodeling minyo, growling enka,
Sex toy, slant-eyes closed, licking, tasting, swallowing STD semen,
Every drop.
Yessu, i wanna baby who looohkuh gaijeen, double-fold eye, translucent skin, international school PTA,
maybe grow up to be fashion model, even joshi-ana,
not-not-not happy to be
Little YELLOW Slut.
I recognize her:
That Little YELLOW Slut, rejecting
Japanese, rejected by Japanese,
Ashamed,
Empty inside,
They all look alike,
Faceless, hoping to forget, escape
To America,
Slant-eyed clitoris,
Adopted orphan,
Dream come true for pedophiles,
Serving sake, pouring tea, spilling honey,
Naturalized citizen,
Buying Gucci,
Docile doll,
Rag-doll, Miss Universe, manic harakiri depressive, rape victim, she is
You, she is me.
Hai, hai, eigo wakarimasen, worship Big Master for mind, matter, muscle, money, body size correlates to penis size,
waiting to be sexually harassed, so sorry, so many,
so sad to be
Little YELLOW Slut.
Little YELLOW Slut
By Yuri Kageyama
You know her:
That Little YELLOW Slut, proudly gleefully
YELLOW-ly hanging on Big Master's arm,
War bride, geisha,
GI's home away from home,
Whore for last samurai,
Hula dancer with seaweed hair,
Yoko Ohno,
Akihabara cafe maid,
Hi-Hi Puffy Ami/Yumi,
Kawaiiii like keitai,
Back-up dancer for Gwen Stefani,
Your real-life Second Life avatar
Eager to deliver your freakiest fetish fantasies,
Disco queen, skirt up the crotch,
Fish-net stockings, bow-legged, anorexic, raisin nipples, tip-toeing Roppongi on
Stiletto heels.
Yessu, i spikku ingrishhu, i raikku gaijeeen, they kiss you,
hold your hand, open doors for me,
open legs for you, giggling pidgin, covering mouth,
so happy to be
Little YELLOW Slut.
Everybody's seen her:
That Little YELLOW Slut, waiting at
Home, cooking rice, the Japanese
Condoleezza Rice,
Smelling of sushi,
Breath and vagina,
Fish and vinegar,
Fermented rice,
Honored to be
Cleaning lady,
Flight attendant for Singapore Airlines,
Charlie Chan's Angel,
Nurse maid, gardener, Japan-expert's wife,
Mochi manga face,
Yodeling minyo, growling enka,
Sex toy, slant-eyes closed, licking, tasting, swallowing STD semen,
Every drop.
Yessu, i wanna baby who looohkuh gaijeen, double-fold eye, translucent skin, international school PTA,
maybe grow up to be fashion model, even joshi-ana,
not-not-not happy to be
Little YELLOW Slut.
I recognize her:
That Little YELLOW Slut, rejecting
Japanese, rejected by Japanese,
Ashamed,
Empty inside,
They all look alike,
Faceless, hoping to forget, escape
To America,
Slant-eyed clitoris,
Adopted orphan,
Dream come true for pedophiles,
Serving sake, pouring tea, spilling honey,
Naturalized citizen,
Buying Gucci,
Docile doll,
Rag-doll, Miss Universe, manic harakiri depressive, rape victim, she is
You, she is me.
Hai, hai, eigo wakarimasen, worship Big Master for mind, matter, muscle, money, body size correlates to penis size,
waiting to be sexually harassed, so sorry, so many,
so sad to be
Little YELLOW Slut.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Amanojaku Taiko Concert
Fresh back from a trip to Brazil to celebrate the centenary of Japanese immigration to Brazil, Amanojaku gave two Tokyo concerts this week.
What's striking about their performance is the vision of leader Yoichi Watanabe that is underlined by his fantastic compositions.
Inspired by stark imagery and story-telling, from sword-flicking samurai to the eternal power of dashing waves, Watanabe's tunes never fail to deliver an exciting and articulate musical experience.
His taiko concerts aren't the clap-along feel-good affairs of showmanship that many associate these days with modern taiko.
They make deeper, sometimes painful statements about Watanabe's perceptions on life and art as defined through his compositions/choreography woven together like fabric.
He told the concert crowd about how he composed "Dotou."
He said he started out with a piece for the big drum, and then that evolved into a tune about the snarling waves.
While he was at a studio in a prefecture outside Tokyo to work out the composition, there was a thunderstorm.
There was so much rain the sewage gutter outside the studio began overflowing in torrents.
Thus was "Doutou" born.
Watanabe wrote "Kaiun" after his parents died, and the piece has elements of prayer and wishes for everyone's happiness.
The song has allusions to universal symbols of hard work and preserverance such as worksong chants, swaying of the body and rigorous repetitive beating that is almost excruciating.
But in a mysterious way, the song is also about deliverance from the madness of everyday survival.
It is a moving song about how a man is dealing with the sorrow of losing people he loves, the gratitude he feels toward his forebearers, and the total fear yet total courage artists feel in perpetually facing up to our inevitable deaths.
What's striking about their performance is the vision of leader Yoichi Watanabe that is underlined by his fantastic compositions.
Inspired by stark imagery and story-telling, from sword-flicking samurai to the eternal power of dashing waves, Watanabe's tunes never fail to deliver an exciting and articulate musical experience.
His taiko concerts aren't the clap-along feel-good affairs of showmanship that many associate these days with modern taiko.
They make deeper, sometimes painful statements about Watanabe's perceptions on life and art as defined through his compositions/choreography woven together like fabric.
He told the concert crowd about how he composed "Dotou."
He said he started out with a piece for the big drum, and then that evolved into a tune about the snarling waves.
While he was at a studio in a prefecture outside Tokyo to work out the composition, there was a thunderstorm.
There was so much rain the sewage gutter outside the studio began overflowing in torrents.
Thus was "Doutou" born.
Watanabe wrote "Kaiun" after his parents died, and the piece has elements of prayer and wishes for everyone's happiness.
The song has allusions to universal symbols of hard work and preserverance such as worksong chants, swaying of the body and rigorous repetitive beating that is almost excruciating.
But in a mysterious way, the song is also about deliverance from the madness of everyday survival.
It is a moving song about how a man is dealing with the sorrow of losing people he loves, the gratitude he feels toward his forebearers, and the total fear yet total courage artists feel in perpetually facing up to our inevitable deaths.
Saturday, August 9, 2008
TALKING TAIKO
Poet YURI KAGEYAMA and percussionist WINCHESTER NII TETE present “TALKING TAIKO,” a multicultural evening of the spoken word with music that challenges the boundaries of continents, genres and generations.
Yuri Kageyama’s poetry and short fiction have appeared in many literary publications, including “Y’Bird,” “Greenfield Review,” "San Francisco Stories," "On a Bed of Rice," "Breaking Silence: an Anthology of Asian American Poets," "Other Side River," "Yellow Silk," "Stories We Hold Secret" and "MultiAmerica." She has read with Ishmael Reed, Shuntaro Tanikawa, Geraldine Kudaka, Victor Hernandez Cruz, Russel Baba, Seamus Heaney, Yumi Miyagishima and many other artists. Her short story “The Father and the Son” will be in a January 2009 anthology, “Pow-Wow: American Short Fiction from Then to Now.” She has a book of poems, “Peeling” (I. Reed Press). She is a magna cum laude graduate of Cornell University and holds an M.A. from the University of California, Berkeley.
Master percussionist Winchester Nii Tete hails from the honorable Addy-Amo-Boye families of drummers in Ghana. He has performed with the Ghana national troupe, Sachi Hayasaka, Yoshio Harada, Takasitar, Naoki Kubojima, Tsuyoshi Furuhashi and many other artists. His repertoire is expansive, including jazz, hip-hop, reggae, pop and world music. Besides playing original compositions with poetry, he will deliver a taste of his exuberant, refined and eclectic sound with guest musicians and his students. He is a brilliant young star who is certain to follow in the footsteps of his legendary uncles Obo Addy and Aja Addy in gaining international acclaim.
Winchester Nii Tete and Yuri Kageyama met in Tokyo last year and have been working on collaborative pieces. Director Yoshiaki Tago (“Believer,” “Worst Contact”) joins as another collaborator in filming “Talking Taiko.”
Sunday, September 28, 2008 6:30 p.m.
BUNGA (http://www.livebar-bunga.com/) (TEL: 03-3220-9355)
3-1-5 Amanuma Suginami Tokyo 167-0032
2500 yen admission (plus 500 yen drink).
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Being Japanese: Kakijun, Enryo and Iki
KAKIJUN is something that could have significance only in Japan.
Kakijun refers to the rules on properly writing kanji characters _ specifically the order in which each stroke (traditionally rendered in paintbrush sumi-ink) must be written.
If you mess up the order, then it's wrong _ even if it looks exactly the same as if it had been written in the correct order.
Kakijun highlights the essential importance of process _ as opposed to results.
If it's not done the right way, it's wrong.
Japanese society emphasizes the zenlike spiritual _ the virtue of what is happening within the individual _ form defining act _ not just Western-style pragmatism of getting things done, making money, winning status.
In another sense, kakijun is about fixating on regulations for the sake of appearances, not the substance of the action.
It penalizes deviations.
It discourages creativity.
It rewards conformity.
Still, kakijun can be a beautiful concept.
No wonder calligraphy looks a lot like abstract Western art.
It is forceful.
It is evidence of how the artist's individuality is expressed in form.
It is evidence of how Japanese art is defined as the beauty of the process.
Japanese rules of behavior _ how to enter a door, how to bow, how to drink tea _ are like Dance.
How you do something _ even everyday things _ is part of the definition of that person's value as a human being to all Japanese.
Pretty deep.
ENRYO is another super-Japanese concept.
Taken the bad way (let's start with that first this time), it's phony because it means: yup, you really want that second serving of cake but you don't want to look greedy so you act like you don't want it and say no, thanks, all the while hoping the host will realize you're just saying that and deep inside you want the cake and so will offer it again, no no no I insist, at which point you get to "give in" and eat the cake without feeling like a pig.
This is enryo.
And it's an everyday practice in Japan, even today.
This works only if the other party knows you are doing enryo.
It has been known to happen that if the other party for whatever reason fails to catch on and goes along with the preliminary refusal a la enryo-style, and doesn't persist in offering the cake, the originator of enryo can get quite resentful _ about not getting that cake after all _ and accuse the other person of all kinds of inadequacies, including not being a proper Japanese _ so delicate is this give-and-take interaction of enryo.
Enryo assumes that everyone is in the know.
Enryo evolved out of an insular small-village mindset.
But enryo is also soulful _ caring about the other person so much you're giving that person the chance to take his or her offer back, in case that person can't really afford to offer you that extra piece of cake.
Enryo is about self-sacrifice.
Enryo is about modesty.
It's about not being a totally egotistical and everyone-out-for-their-own kind of society.
It's about quiet graceful self-demeaning appearances taking precedence over who gets what and big egos and individualism.
Many other cultures besides Japan actually have enryo.
Americans may be a minority in not being hip to enryo at all, and in assuming that no one will be crazy enough to say, "No," to a desirable offer. Hey, why not? That's what a normal American would think.
And, well, why not?
If you have to ask, then forget about it.
That's what Enryo is.
IKI also sounds crazy if you try to explain it to a hard-core pragmatist.
Iki means you do the most cool things where people can't possibly notice.
That's what makes it totally cool.
It's adoration of the less obvious, all the while hoping that the hidden wonders will somehow accidentally be noticed, making them even more superlative like a secret gift.
One good example of iki is a plain dark coat that's the impeccable statement of understatement, which has as lining this ostentatious and intricate fabric.
The outer may be indigo but the innards would be an elaborate red and gold Hokusai-like manga design.
This is no joke, and some Edo Period "haori" coats are just like that.
Or a woman's kimono would be subdued but have this special lining at the collar that's only showing in a tiny, tiny bit.
It defies logic, and that's why it's so iki.
The goal of a labor-intensive item is not to show off.
It's in and of itself precious _ although the argument can be made that iki is showing off of the ultimate, perhaps most perverse, kind.
Even among Japanese, iki is supposed to be localized _ very Tokyo _ and some say down-home Osaka people don't value iki.
Iki means you never ask how much something costs.
Iki people would mix-and-match expensive items with weeds picked up off the road _ that kind of thing.
Like kakijun and enryo, iki is at once perception-oriented and arbitrary.
It's all about what people think but so specific it doesn't make any sense when you stop to think about it.
For those who swear by it, there are no gray areas.
And it is a good way to separate true Japanese from posers.
Kakijun refers to the rules on properly writing kanji characters _ specifically the order in which each stroke (traditionally rendered in paintbrush sumi-ink) must be written.
If you mess up the order, then it's wrong _ even if it looks exactly the same as if it had been written in the correct order.
Kakijun highlights the essential importance of process _ as opposed to results.
If it's not done the right way, it's wrong.
Japanese society emphasizes the zenlike spiritual _ the virtue of what is happening within the individual _ form defining act _ not just Western-style pragmatism of getting things done, making money, winning status.
In another sense, kakijun is about fixating on regulations for the sake of appearances, not the substance of the action.
It penalizes deviations.
It discourages creativity.
It rewards conformity.
Still, kakijun can be a beautiful concept.
No wonder calligraphy looks a lot like abstract Western art.
It is forceful.
It is evidence of how the artist's individuality is expressed in form.
It is evidence of how Japanese art is defined as the beauty of the process.
Japanese rules of behavior _ how to enter a door, how to bow, how to drink tea _ are like Dance.
How you do something _ even everyday things _ is part of the definition of that person's value as a human being to all Japanese.
Pretty deep.
ENRYO is another super-Japanese concept.
Taken the bad way (let's start with that first this time), it's phony because it means: yup, you really want that second serving of cake but you don't want to look greedy so you act like you don't want it and say no, thanks, all the while hoping the host will realize you're just saying that and deep inside you want the cake and so will offer it again, no no no I insist, at which point you get to "give in" and eat the cake without feeling like a pig.
This is enryo.
And it's an everyday practice in Japan, even today.
This works only if the other party knows you are doing enryo.
It has been known to happen that if the other party for whatever reason fails to catch on and goes along with the preliminary refusal a la enryo-style, and doesn't persist in offering the cake, the originator of enryo can get quite resentful _ about not getting that cake after all _ and accuse the other person of all kinds of inadequacies, including not being a proper Japanese _ so delicate is this give-and-take interaction of enryo.
Enryo assumes that everyone is in the know.
Enryo evolved out of an insular small-village mindset.
But enryo is also soulful _ caring about the other person so much you're giving that person the chance to take his or her offer back, in case that person can't really afford to offer you that extra piece of cake.
Enryo is about self-sacrifice.
Enryo is about modesty.
It's about not being a totally egotistical and everyone-out-for-their-own kind of society.
It's about quiet graceful self-demeaning appearances taking precedence over who gets what and big egos and individualism.
Many other cultures besides Japan actually have enryo.
Americans may be a minority in not being hip to enryo at all, and in assuming that no one will be crazy enough to say, "No," to a desirable offer. Hey, why not? That's what a normal American would think.
And, well, why not?
If you have to ask, then forget about it.
That's what Enryo is.
IKI also sounds crazy if you try to explain it to a hard-core pragmatist.
Iki means you do the most cool things where people can't possibly notice.
That's what makes it totally cool.
It's adoration of the less obvious, all the while hoping that the hidden wonders will somehow accidentally be noticed, making them even more superlative like a secret gift.
One good example of iki is a plain dark coat that's the impeccable statement of understatement, which has as lining this ostentatious and intricate fabric.
The outer may be indigo but the innards would be an elaborate red and gold Hokusai-like manga design.
This is no joke, and some Edo Period "haori" coats are just like that.
Or a woman's kimono would be subdued but have this special lining at the collar that's only showing in a tiny, tiny bit.
It defies logic, and that's why it's so iki.
The goal of a labor-intensive item is not to show off.
It's in and of itself precious _ although the argument can be made that iki is showing off of the ultimate, perhaps most perverse, kind.
Even among Japanese, iki is supposed to be localized _ very Tokyo _ and some say down-home Osaka people don't value iki.
Iki means you never ask how much something costs.
Iki people would mix-and-match expensive items with weeds picked up off the road _ that kind of thing.
Like kakijun and enryo, iki is at once perception-oriented and arbitrary.
It's all about what people think but so specific it doesn't make any sense when you stop to think about it.
For those who swear by it, there are no gray areas.
And it is a good way to separate true Japanese from posers.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Amanojaku Taiko Concert
AMANOJAKU CONCERTS:
IN TOKYO
Amanojaku Taiko Concert – Celebrating the 100th Anniversary of Japanese Immigration to Brazil
Amanojaku with Kyosuke Suzuki (yokobue flute), Katsunari Sawada (shamisen)
August 13, 2008 Wednesday at 19:00 (Doors open at 18:30)
August 14, 2008 Thursday at 14:00 (Doors open at 13:30)
Nerima Bunka Center TEL: 03-3993-3311
Ticket Prices: Advance Tickets: JPY 4000
Door Tickets: JPY 4500
All seats are non-reserved
Ticket Pia - http://pia.jp/t P-Code: 293-971
TEL: 0570-02-9999
Contact: Amanojaku － http://amanojaku.info
TEL: 03-3904-1745 FAX: 03-3904-9434
Amanojaku led by Yoichi Watanabe has just returned from Brazil where they led 1,000 Japanese Brazilian drummers in a performance at a samba venue in Sao Paulo, the Brazilian city with the biggest population of people of Japanese ancestry.
Watanabe has gone to Brazil six times in the last several years to lead workshops in taiko drumming in Japanese communities throughout that nation. This year marks the centenary of Japanese immigration to Brazil, where pioneers went with big dreams after they were blocked entry by segration in the U.S. Taiko has long been a major part of the Japanese American community. Taiko is growing into a major part of the Japanese Brazilian community. Taiko is that pulse that unites people everywhere and helps make that vital connection to our cultural roots.
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Poetry and Percussion
"Little YELLOW Slut" and "SuperMom" at CoZmos Cafe in Tokyo July 19, 2008, with Winchester Nii Tete on the talking drum, kpanlogo and djembe.
Winchester Nii Tete has been studying drums since he was a baby because he is from a family of professional drummers in Ghana.
Many Americans have heard of Obo Addy, one of the originators of Worldbeat. Well, that's Winchester's uncle.
Many Japanese have heard of Aja Addy, who played with Kodo. Well, that's another one of Winchester's famous uncles.
His mother's father, his own father, his father's father, his brothers and cousins ... they're all part of the Addy-Amo-Boye family of drummers.
Being Winchester is probably a bit like being born in a Kabuki family in how that art is a part of your everyday life, family ties and legacy.
But Winchester never makes you feel that he is different from you.
If anything, he makes you feel as though you have known him all your life, that maybe you can go visit him and his wonderful family in Ghana one day, and that he will make you feel welcome.
He has never had to actually say this. It is a feeling.
Not only is he obviously a talented musician, he is also sensitive to the person he is with _ what that person is trying to say and do _ and this makes him a very special artist.
I guess what I am saying is that you feel this understanding and respect.
This happens to be sadly rather rare.
Most people who are talented and intelligent are strong. And they become self-absorbed.
Winchester is accomplished in his own art, but he also has that magic of being able to make his art work in a way to enhance other people's statements without compromising his own.
To feel complete as an artist, we ultimately need the Listener.
We say we are not afraid to be alone. But in the end we want to communicate and that is why we write/play music/paint/etc.
The artist you collaborate with is that first Listener.
Winchester makes me feel complete in this process of communication.
He also somehow makes me feel that I want to _ and that I must _ communicate more and more and more with more people, the whole world, anyone who will listen, anyone who will care, everyone, though I may find that may be no one at all except for Winchester.
Winchester has played at many places with his family. But he is still new in Japan and so he plays with a lot of people who aren't rich or famous in small bars that are like holes filled with cigarette smoke for little money.
Sometimes this happens to great musicians.
And so once I said to him: you will be a star soon then you wouldn't want to play with us.
And he looked me in the eye and said: No, that's not true. If I am free, I will come and play.
This kind of conviction he has about his calling as an artist is basic and pure.
But it's something we tend to forget with age.
He is right: We have to keep going, and we have to show up to play/write/paint.
If we start questioning that, if we can't believe, then what are we doing to begin with?
For our reading in the video above, Winchester drove several hours from a concert he was performing with his students near Mount Fuji, and then drove all the way back after this 10 minute performance.
I am just amazed.
I am not sure if I would be able to do that.
I did not realize he was in Fuji until he arrived at our door.
He had just said on the phone earlier in the day: I am quite far, but I will be there.
And to make it all the more amazing, Winchester's father has just died.
He will not go back to Ghana for the funeral but will keep playing music in Japan.
Winchester Nii Tete has been studying drums since he was a baby because he is from a family of professional drummers in Ghana.
Many Americans have heard of Obo Addy, one of the originators of Worldbeat. Well, that's Winchester's uncle.
Many Japanese have heard of Aja Addy, who played with Kodo. Well, that's another one of Winchester's famous uncles.
His mother's father, his own father, his father's father, his brothers and cousins ... they're all part of the Addy-Amo-Boye family of drummers.
Being Winchester is probably a bit like being born in a Kabuki family in how that art is a part of your everyday life, family ties and legacy.
But Winchester never makes you feel that he is different from you.
If anything, he makes you feel as though you have known him all your life, that maybe you can go visit him and his wonderful family in Ghana one day, and that he will make you feel welcome.
He has never had to actually say this. It is a feeling.
Not only is he obviously a talented musician, he is also sensitive to the person he is with _ what that person is trying to say and do _ and this makes him a very special artist.
I guess what I am saying is that you feel this understanding and respect.
This happens to be sadly rather rare.
Most people who are talented and intelligent are strong. And they become self-absorbed.
Winchester is accomplished in his own art, but he also has that magic of being able to make his art work in a way to enhance other people's statements without compromising his own.
To feel complete as an artist, we ultimately need the Listener.
We say we are not afraid to be alone. But in the end we want to communicate and that is why we write/play music/paint/etc.
The artist you collaborate with is that first Listener.
Winchester makes me feel complete in this process of communication.
He also somehow makes me feel that I want to _ and that I must _ communicate more and more and more with more people, the whole world, anyone who will listen, anyone who will care, everyone, though I may find that may be no one at all except for Winchester.
Winchester has played at many places with his family. But he is still new in Japan and so he plays with a lot of people who aren't rich or famous in small bars that are like holes filled with cigarette smoke for little money.
Sometimes this happens to great musicians.
And so once I said to him: you will be a star soon then you wouldn't want to play with us.
And he looked me in the eye and said: No, that's not true. If I am free, I will come and play.
This kind of conviction he has about his calling as an artist is basic and pure.
But it's something we tend to forget with age.
He is right: We have to keep going, and we have to show up to play/write/paint.
If we start questioning that, if we can't believe, then what are we doing to begin with?
For our reading in the video above, Winchester drove several hours from a concert he was performing with his students near Mount Fuji, and then drove all the way back after this 10 minute performance.
I am just amazed.
I am not sure if I would be able to do that.
I did not realize he was in Fuji until he arrived at our door.
He had just said on the phone earlier in the day: I am quite far, but I will be there.
And to make it all the more amazing, Winchester's father has just died.
He will not go back to Ghana for the funeral but will keep playing music in Japan.
Story of Miu 11
Continued from previous entries:
Story of Miu 10
Story of Miu 9
Links to Story of Miu 8 and previous entries to where it all started.
___________
The details, when put together, make for a rather fascinating profile of a young man.
Maybe because I am a writer I am by nature intrigued by descriptions of things that people do that offer insight into human nature that writers see as a mission to explore.
I still don't really know Yuga at all.
I only know what Miu told me.
Maybe she is telling only her side of what happened as people are apt to do.
And maybe she didn't even really know him either.
The bits and pieces came slowly and gradually.
But as our conversation went on, the crimes, the shortcomings, the mistakes of Yuga came from her in torrents.
Yuga had another identity, Miu says.
He went to clubs to pick up women.
For this, he went by a false name, Ryuga, which still sounded enough like Yuga so that if someone called out the name _ someone who really knew who he was, who happened to be at the same club, the same party, or the same sidewalk, "Hey, Yuga!" _ the girl he was trying to seduce wouldn't find out he had told her his false name, the lie, the other identity: The boy who wasn't a poor musician at all but an up-and-coming recruit at a PR firm, who had money and on his path to fame.
"That is so sad," Miu said to me, scoffing and sneering, although she was almost going to cry.
"I thought I came to Japan to find human relationships that were devoid of the separation of racism, to link with people in a way that wasn't tainted by the barriers of racial stereotypes. I just wanted a man who would look at me and not see a Jap before he saw anything else."
I touched her shoulder, pale and frail and trembling.
But nothing I could do or say was going to make Miu feel better.
When Yuga was Ryuga, when he wasn't practicing with Miu and the rest of his band, when he wasn't poring over his studies, he was talking to strange women as Ryuga in darkly deafening club after club, whispering strange nothings into their ears.
Story of Miu 10
Story of Miu 9
Links to Story of Miu 8 and previous entries to where it all started.
___________
The details, when put together, make for a rather fascinating profile of a young man.
Maybe because I am a writer I am by nature intrigued by descriptions of things that people do that offer insight into human nature that writers see as a mission to explore.
I still don't really know Yuga at all.
I only know what Miu told me.
Maybe she is telling only her side of what happened as people are apt to do.
And maybe she didn't even really know him either.
The bits and pieces came slowly and gradually.
But as our conversation went on, the crimes, the shortcomings, the mistakes of Yuga came from her in torrents.
Yuga had another identity, Miu says.
He went to clubs to pick up women.
For this, he went by a false name, Ryuga, which still sounded enough like Yuga so that if someone called out the name _ someone who really knew who he was, who happened to be at the same club, the same party, or the same sidewalk, "Hey, Yuga!" _ the girl he was trying to seduce wouldn't find out he had told her his false name, the lie, the other identity: The boy who wasn't a poor musician at all but an up-and-coming recruit at a PR firm, who had money and on his path to fame.
"That is so sad," Miu said to me, scoffing and sneering, although she was almost going to cry.
"I thought I came to Japan to find human relationships that were devoid of the separation of racism, to link with people in a way that wasn't tainted by the barriers of racial stereotypes. I just wanted a man who would look at me and not see a Jap before he saw anything else."
I touched her shoulder, pale and frail and trembling.
But nothing I could do or say was going to make Miu feel better.
When Yuga was Ryuga, when he wasn't practicing with Miu and the rest of his band, when he wasn't poring over his studies, he was talking to strange women as Ryuga in darkly deafening club after club, whispering strange nothings into their ears.
Monday, July 21, 2008
Poetry and Dance
I had the pleasure of collaborating with American/Brazilian dancer Abel Coelho July 6, at What the Dickens.
This blog was how we met.
I wrote about a Dairakudakan Butoh workshop, which Abel took part in.
He left a nice comment about the entry.
And our correspondence began.
He is in Japan again this summer.
We met at Ebisu station near the statute of the god.
We walked over to What the Dickens, then did this together.
Pretty good for two people who just met.
The MC who introduces us at the beginning of the video is poet Tomas.
This blog was how we met.
I wrote about a Dairakudakan Butoh workshop, which Abel took part in.
He left a nice comment about the entry.
And our correspondence began.
He is in Japan again this summer.
We met at Ebisu station near the statute of the god.
We walked over to What the Dickens, then did this together.
Pretty good for two people who just met.
The MC who introduces us at the beginning of the video is poet Tomas.
INCH-KEY (Inchiki)
Inch-key
Inch-key
Bag full of lies
Falsehood fake fraud phoniness
Inch-key
Inch-key
Boss doing side jobs on the sly
Husband hiding lipstick on his sleeve
Inch-key
Inch-key
Chinese eels that're selling as gourmet
Long expired are Senba Kiccho
Inch-key
Inch-key
Mattaku hattari
Mechakucha illusion
Inch-key
Inch-key
Swindler president judge and lover
Poet shaman online writer
Inch-key
Inch-key
Sneezing lying plastic surgeon
Snoozing this year's on-the-job evaluation
Inch-key
Inch-key
You believe what you got to believe
I'm mailing a letter addressed to me
Inch-key
Inch-key
Mattaku hattari
Mechakucha illusion
Inch-key
Inch-key
Eh, woo-so!
Inch-key
Bag full of lies
Falsehood fake fraud phoniness
Inch-key
Inch-key
Boss doing side jobs on the sly
Husband hiding lipstick on his sleeve
Inch-key
Inch-key
Chinese eels that're selling as gourmet
Long expired are Senba Kiccho
Inch-key
Inch-key
Mattaku hattari
Mechakucha illusion
Inch-key
Inch-key
Swindler president judge and lover
Poet shaman online writer
Inch-key
Inch-key
Sneezing lying plastic surgeon
Snoozing this year's on-the-job evaluation
Inch-key
Inch-key
You believe what you got to believe
I'm mailing a letter addressed to me
Inch-key
Inch-key
Mattaku hattari
Mechakucha illusion
Inch-key
Inch-key
Eh, woo-so!
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Amanojaku in a Yamagata Taiko Festival
Amanojaku appears in a Yamagata Prefecture taiko festival being billed as a once-in-a-decade star-studded event.
OHAMA, Yamagata Prefecture
July 27, 2008 at 18:00 (Doors open 17:00)
AMANOJAKU with Osuwa Daiko, Oedo Sukeroko Taiko, Chichibu Yatai Bayashi, Choshi Hanedaiko and others.
Kan Nihon-kai Taiko Festival
Ohama Seashore Stage
Advance Tickets JPY 2000, Door Tickets 2500
Contact: Kan Nihon-kai Taiko Festival Organization Office TEL 0234-26-0381
More Amanojaku in Brazil
Video footage of a recent Amanojaku concert in Brazil.
"Kaiun" by Yoichi Watanabe.
Players from left to right:
Mayumi Kawana, Isaku Kageyama, Hiromi Ogawa, Yoichi Watanabe.
Yoichi Watanabe, master taiko drummer and the leader of Tokyo taiko group Amanojaku, wrote "Kaiun" after he lost both his father and mother within a scope of about a year.
Like many Japanese, Watanabe has a tight family (both his sons are fantastic taiko drummers), and he was very close to his parents.
The sorrow was a crushing burden that was visible to anyone who saw him those days.
His own health suffered, and he was hospitalized.
But like all great artists, he found in his ordeal a vital force for this composition that is not only about the kind of person his parents always taught him to be _ humbly enduring but always with integrity and vision _ but also about the message of hope and prayer for everyone.
"Kaiun" means "good fortune" in Japanese.
People use the phrase when they wish good luck to others in the same way people in the West say, "God bless you."
"Kaiun" is a powerful spiritual statement of art's transcendence over death and a man's sense of mission to pass on a musical legacy to future generations.
It is a universal statement about how we can never defeat death but how art can give us eternity.
If you want to see "Kaiun" with a better camera angle, please order the Amanojaku DVD from the online store:
http://www.isakukageyama.com/english/onlinestore/
It has all the greatest Amanojaku tunes, including "Bujin" (seen in the YouTube upload below), "Dotoh," "Kagura" and others.
A must buy for all taiko fans and students.
"Kaiun" by Yoichi Watanabe.
Players from left to right:
Mayumi Kawana, Isaku Kageyama, Hiromi Ogawa, Yoichi Watanabe.
Yoichi Watanabe, master taiko drummer and the leader of Tokyo taiko group Amanojaku, wrote "Kaiun" after he lost both his father and mother within a scope of about a year.
Like many Japanese, Watanabe has a tight family (both his sons are fantastic taiko drummers), and he was very close to his parents.
The sorrow was a crushing burden that was visible to anyone who saw him those days.
His own health suffered, and he was hospitalized.
But like all great artists, he found in his ordeal a vital force for this composition that is not only about the kind of person his parents always taught him to be _ humbly enduring but always with integrity and vision _ but also about the message of hope and prayer for everyone.
"Kaiun" means "good fortune" in Japanese.
People use the phrase when they wish good luck to others in the same way people in the West say, "God bless you."
"Kaiun" is a powerful spiritual statement of art's transcendence over death and a man's sense of mission to pass on a musical legacy to future generations.
It is a universal statement about how we can never defeat death but how art can give us eternity.
If you want to see "Kaiun" with a better camera angle, please order the Amanojaku DVD from the online store:
http://www.isakukageyama.com/english/onlinestore/
It has all the greatest Amanojaku tunes, including "Bujin" (seen in the YouTube upload below), "Dotoh," "Kagura" and others.
A must buy for all taiko fans and students.
Amanojaku in Brazil
Video footage from the recent Amanojaku concert in Brazil.
"Bujin" by Yoichi Watanabe.
Solo by Hiromi Ogawa.
Like many Watanabe pieces, "Bujin" has a solo section that allows individual players to express their own version of Amanojaku taiko.
Hiromi Ogawa's is a classic.
It never fails to build excitement and tension as the perfect third solo for "Bujin."
"Bujin" by Yoichi Watanabe.
Solo by Hiromi Ogawa.
Like many Watanabe pieces, "Bujin" has a solo section that allows individual players to express their own version of Amanojaku taiko.
Hiromi Ogawa's is a classic.
It never fails to build excitement and tension as the perfect third solo for "Bujin."
Dear Sir
Dear Sir,
do you love my daughter?
really love my daughter?
yes the one with the violin
holes in her jeans
she doesn't know she doesn't need you
just knows she wants
maybe the warmth of that moving wormlike fetus stirring growing within her
maybe the hotness of those orgasmic waves coming and going and coming within her
maybe that wet loneliness of wanting you and wanting you when you aren't even gone
she sees only you
but do you love my daughter?
really love my daughter?
yes the one selling matches
begging at the train station
she needs to find herself
not end up being
maybe just one your many conquests, that pretty thing to have at your side
maybe that soul-mate you're keeping while you're feeling too guilty to dump her
maybe that convenience for cooking, counseling, coming that you don't even need
she will die for you
but do you love my daughter?
really love my daughter?
yes that search for love
of that woman for that man
it never ends, repeating
again and again
maybe that blood trickling painless between our thighs on the abortion table
maybe that joy of a bouquet you bring smelling of grease from the construction site
maybe that other woman you hide like a fetish priest wishing my daughter's death
she isn't afraid
but do you love my daughter?
really love my daughter?
do you love my daughter?
really love my daughter?
yes the one with the violin
holes in her jeans
she doesn't know she doesn't need you
just knows she wants
maybe the warmth of that moving wormlike fetus stirring growing within her
maybe the hotness of those orgasmic waves coming and going and coming within her
maybe that wet loneliness of wanting you and wanting you when you aren't even gone
she sees only you
but do you love my daughter?
really love my daughter?
yes the one selling matches
begging at the train station
she needs to find herself
not end up being
maybe just one your many conquests, that pretty thing to have at your side
maybe that soul-mate you're keeping while you're feeling too guilty to dump her
maybe that convenience for cooking, counseling, coming that you don't even need
she will die for you
but do you love my daughter?
really love my daughter?
yes that search for love
of that woman for that man
it never ends, repeating
again and again
maybe that blood trickling painless between our thighs on the abortion table
maybe that joy of a bouquet you bring smelling of grease from the construction site
maybe that other woman you hide like a fetish priest wishing my daughter's death
she isn't afraid
but do you love my daughter?
really love my daughter?
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Photos by Kabe Chushin 13
Photos by KABE-CHUSHIN.
Poet YURI KAGEYAMA presents
The TOKYO FLOWER CHILDREN
in an Evening of Multicultural Poetry and Music
at The Pink Cow, in Tokyo.
June 8, 2008.
Little YELLOW Slut with Teruyuki Kawabata, Haruna Shimizu and Keiji Kubo
Loving Younger Men
an ode to the Caucasian male with Carl Freire
Cecil Taylor
People Who Know Pain with Yumi Miyagishima
Ikiru
SuperMom with Winchester Nii Tete
Excerpt from “The Father and the Son,” short story to be published in “Pow-wow:
American Short Fiction from Then to Now,” Da Capo Press (Perseus Books).
Jounetsu wo Torimodosou Music/Lyrics/Guitar/Song by Teruyuki Kawabata, translation
by Yuri Kageyama, performance by All
Poet YURI KAGEYAMA’s works have appeared in many literary publications, including “Y’Bird,” “Greenfield Review,” “On a Bed of Rice,” “Other Side River” and “Stories We Hold Secret.” She has a book of poems, “Peeling” (I. Reed Books).
Music maker, designer and self-proclaimed “shy and wagamama only child,” TERUYUKI KAWABATA leads CigaretteSheWas, one of Japan’s greatest indies bands. The group has a new CD album later this year.
Master percussionist WINCHESTER NII TETE hails from the honorable Addy-Amo-Boye families of drummers of Ghana. He plays with the Ghana national troupe, Sachi Hayasaka, Yoshio Harada and Takasitar.
HARUNA SHIMIZU of CigaretteSheWas fell in love with Ghana’s kpanlogo drum while she was in college. She has kept at it as freely as her spirit moves her.
KEIJI KUBO, who plays didgeridoo and bass, is a linguist and student. He has total respect for aboriginal culture and cultural integrity.
Violinist YUMI MIYAGISHIMA plays with CigaretteSheWas, Kyosuke Koizumi, Binary Scale, The little witch and other groups.
CARL FREIRE is an American writer, translator and musician.
DEEJAY C. GEEZ from St. Louis has been living in Japan since 2006. His super soul music and dope true-school hip hop starts 7 p.m.
Poetry and music 8 p.m.
Photos by Kabe Chushin 12
From left to right
Winchester Nii Tete, Haruna Shimizu, Carl Freire, Teruyuki Kawabata, Yumi Miyagishima playing Kawabata's "Jounetsu wo Torimodosou."
.JPG)
Photos by Kabe Chushin 4
Everybody loves Winchester.
From left to right
Teruyuki Kawabata (percussion, guitar, song, composition), Keiji Kubo (didgeridoo/bass) and Yumi Miyagishima (violin) watching Winchester Nii Tete (kpanlogo) on "SuperMom."
Photos by Kabe Chushin 3
More photos by KABE-CHUSHIN ...
Winchester Nii Tete on kpanlogo drums and me doing "SuperMom."
Photos by Kabe Chushin
KABE-CHUSHIN took these photos from the June 8, 2008 TOKYO FLOWER CHILDREN reading at The Pink Cow.
Violinist Yumi Miyagaishima and me doing "People Who Know Pain."
Friday, July 4, 2008
SuperMom
Master percussionist WINCHESTER NII TETE hails from the honorable Addy-Amo-Boye families of drummers of Ghana.
He plays with the Ghana national troupe, Sachi Hayasaka, Yoshio Harada, Takasitar _ and with me!
We were at Ben's Cafe in Takadanobaba, Tokyo, the other day.
Besides "SuperMom," we did a version of "Little YELLOW Slut."
We are planning more collaborations.
He plays with the Ghana national troupe, Sachi Hayasaka, Yoshio Harada, Takasitar _ and with me!
We were at Ben's Cafe in Takadanobaba, Tokyo, the other day.
Besides "SuperMom," we did a version of "Little YELLOW Slut."
We are planning more collaborations.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Amanojaku Taiko Workshops
Taiko group Amanojaku, led by Yoichi Watanabe, is offering workshops in Tokyo.
Odaiko (big drum)
FRI July 4, FRI July 18, FRI Aug. 22 and FRI Aug. 29, 2008.
7 pm - 8:30 pm
Working at the Basics
SAT July 5, SAT July 19, SAT Aug. 23 and SAT Aug. 30, 2008.
3 pm-4:30 pm
8,400 yen per month (two lessons).
All at Taikonosato Kyouwakan near Yutenji station on Tokyu Toyoko Line.
Amanojaku in Concert
Aug. 13, 2008 7 p.m. and Aug. 14, 2008 2 p.m.
Celebrating the 100th Anniversary of Japanese Immigration to Brazil
An event that promises to be a bold statement of legacy and vision, the concert will feature the Japan premiere of “Kizuna,” in Brazil by 1000 drummers for the centenary celebration in June.
Special guests Kyosuke Suzuki (yokobue flute) and Katsunari Sawada (shamisen)
At Nerima Bunka Center TEL: 03-3993-3311
Advance Tickets: 4,000 yen
Door Tickets: 4,500 yen.
All seats non-reserved.
Ticket Pia - http://pia.jp/t P-Code: 293-971 TEL: 0570-02-9999
Amanojaku TEL: 03-3904-1745 FAX: 03-3904-9434
Odaiko (big drum)
FRI July 4, FRI July 18, FRI Aug. 22 and FRI Aug. 29, 2008.
7 pm - 8:30 pm
Working at the Basics
SAT July 5, SAT July 19, SAT Aug. 23 and SAT Aug. 30, 2008.
3 pm-4:30 pm
8,400 yen per month (two lessons).
All at Taikonosato Kyouwakan near Yutenji station on Tokyu Toyoko Line.
Amanojaku in Concert
Aug. 13, 2008 7 p.m. and Aug. 14, 2008 2 p.m.
Celebrating the 100th Anniversary of Japanese Immigration to Brazil
An event that promises to be a bold statement of legacy and vision, the concert will feature the Japan premiere of “Kizuna,” in Brazil by 1000 drummers for the centenary celebration in June.
Special guests Kyosuke Suzuki (yokobue flute) and Katsunari Sawada (shamisen)
At Nerima Bunka Center TEL: 03-3993-3311
Advance Tickets: 4,000 yen
Door Tickets: 4,500 yen.
All seats non-reserved.
Ticket Pia - http://pia.jp/t P-Code: 293-971 TEL: 0570-02-9999
Amanojaku TEL: 03-3904-1745 FAX: 03-3904-9434
Friday, June 27, 2008
Daihachi Oguchi
Daihachi Oguchi, a pioneer in making taiko an international art form, especially among overseas Japanese communities, has died.
A big taiko event in his honor is being organized in Japan in August.
Details are upcoming.
The first time I saw Mr. Oguchi perform was in San Francisco in the 1970s with San Francisco Taiko Dojo.
He used to say there are two drums _ one on Earth and one in Heaven.
That's why the players trained in his style point their bachi sticks upward, reaching for the sky, in between beats.
He is probably up there now playing that heavenly drum.
It's a testament to the power of taiko and the commitment of Mr. Oguchi and others who have followed in his path to see how taiko has grown to be played all over the world _ as faraway as from the shrine in Nagano that's home to Oguchi's Osuwa Daiko as Brazil and Kuwait.
It's now simply taken for granted that taiko is modern music capable of delivering professional level performances and world-class artistic expression as much as jazz or the blues or hiphop.
Every taiko drummer in the world, including my son, owes so much to Mr. Oguchi.
In his art, vision and pure persona, Mr. Oguchi deserves the highest honors for what he has done for Japan's image in the international community _ inclusive, honorable, innovative and a lot of fun.
(More links to the Obit. )
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Amanojaku Taiko in Brazil
Video by someone who was at Amanojaku's June 19, 2008 concert in Brazil.
Thanks for the video!
Isaku's blog and entry from his end on the same concert.
The piece being performed is "Five Color Taiko," in which five players drum out music that is at once together and coherent in unison yet also individual, creative and unique, expressing the essence of the human spirit as interpreted by Amanojaku leader and composer Yoichi Watanabe.
Brazil, home to the biggest Japanese community outside Japan, is also home to a younthful and vibrant taiko culture.
Monday, June 23, 2008
Story of Miu 10
Story of Miu 9
List of links to previous Miu entries
Story of Miu 10
The Moon Stomp in Koenji is smaller than most American kitchens, and it really does have a kitchen, where sweet-smelling pizza and hot spicy curry are getting cooked up, but what's really cooking is the music.
Miu wanted me to come and hear her play with Yuga's band.
I'm trying not to expect too much, but I need not have worried.
Descend from the streets into that tiny smoke-filled club, packed with kids in hats and T-shirts, and the music there is so feel-good, giggles-provoking and harmonious Japanese-style it's like soaking in sudsy lukewarm tub water.
Admission is 2,500 yen for an all-you-can-eat meal-included evening of music.
Merrychan is a trio that performs original Japanese-language versions of Cuban and other Latin music.
Hearing Japanese sung and yelled in Latin fashion is somehow funnier than you'd think. Speak about identity crisis and parodying Japan's imitative modern music scene!
See how "Gerohaita! (He barfed!)" almost sounds Spanish? It's that wit in not taking oneself too seriously that makes these musicians rise above their otherwise proficient but pretty hunkydory (I mean, how could a bunch of Japanese kids beat Los Van Van?) musicianship to something unique, and something definitely entertaining.
No wonder the crowd (of about 30, half of them members of the other performing bands) is ecstatic.
Funyakotsu-ting was a geeky looking pudgy guy with glasses and a T-shirt with a picture of a donkey that said in English: "Bad Ass." He sang, narrated tales and even performed karaoke with a guitar.
A far cry from a demonstration of musical technique or artistic message, the almost-freak-show "otaku" performance still exudes a strange utterly disarming charm.
Several fans sat in the front row with multicolored light-sticks and swayed them in time to the music on one tune like they were at a Budokan rock concert.
Most straight-ahead but just as hippie-spiritied was Cigarette She Was, a folk/pop band led by guitar-strumming singer Teruyuki Kawabata. The groups were selling their CDs for something like 200 yen, the equivalent of $1.50.
Yuga plays kpanlogo in this band, his deep eyes _ those that Miu says look like those of an elephant _ buried in his long black hair as he plays with quiet concentration. He is sometimes so serious his upper lip seems to curl up in a haughty snarl.
Miu is so happy she can barely sit still as she jumps around, shaking a wooden stick covered with jangling bells.
I sit in one of the front seats surrounded by the cuddly noises and the warm smell of food and forget all thoughts.
It's a numbing feeling of thoughtless and humble satisfaction.
Who would have imagined that just a couple of months later Miu would break up with Yuga?
They are so young maybe it was to be expected.
She says it started with a quarrel about how to play a musical phrase in a rehearsal in their tiny apartment.
But when she shouted back, he slapped her then pushed her down on the tatami mat.
"I almost hit my head on the corner of his desk," Miu tells me, horrified.
She has to move out immediately, and so I have to go pick her up in our car.
Perhaps hoping to stop her from leaving, Yuga told her that he couldn't end the painful cycle of violence: He was beaten as a child while he was growing up.
His parent were very strict with him because he was an only child and they had such great hopes for him.
He was the kind of kid who couldn't even ask for a toy.
The parents would spank him and beat him and kick him and push him out, even in the winter, naked out into the backyard, although he screamed and stamped his little feet and cried as though his little lungs will tear into pieces.
But sometimes, when he feels that rage burn inside him, he is still that kid, and he can't stop himself when he wants it set things right and he must hit that person in front of him whom he loves so dearly yet who is acting in a way that he despises.
"It's totally messed up," Miu says. "He says he can't forgive his father, but I am not going to forgive him."
It is a sad end to a totally peaceful, hippie story of young love and brainlessly joyous music.
Or so I thought _ except that wasn't the end at all.
List of links to previous Miu entries
Story of Miu 10
The Moon Stomp in Koenji is smaller than most American kitchens, and it really does have a kitchen, where sweet-smelling pizza and hot spicy curry are getting cooked up, but what's really cooking is the music.
Miu wanted me to come and hear her play with Yuga's band.
I'm trying not to expect too much, but I need not have worried.
Descend from the streets into that tiny smoke-filled club, packed with kids in hats and T-shirts, and the music there is so feel-good, giggles-provoking and harmonious Japanese-style it's like soaking in sudsy lukewarm tub water.
Admission is 2,500 yen for an all-you-can-eat meal-included evening of music.
Merrychan is a trio that performs original Japanese-language versions of Cuban and other Latin music.
Hearing Japanese sung and yelled in Latin fashion is somehow funnier than you'd think. Speak about identity crisis and parodying Japan's imitative modern music scene!
See how "Gerohaita! (He barfed!)" almost sounds Spanish? It's that wit in not taking oneself too seriously that makes these musicians rise above their otherwise proficient but pretty hunkydory (I mean, how could a bunch of Japanese kids beat Los Van Van?) musicianship to something unique, and something definitely entertaining.
No wonder the crowd (of about 30, half of them members of the other performing bands) is ecstatic.
Funyakotsu-ting was a geeky looking pudgy guy with glasses and a T-shirt with a picture of a donkey that said in English: "Bad Ass." He sang, narrated tales and even performed karaoke with a guitar.
A far cry from a demonstration of musical technique or artistic message, the almost-freak-show "otaku" performance still exudes a strange utterly disarming charm.
Several fans sat in the front row with multicolored light-sticks and swayed them in time to the music on one tune like they were at a Budokan rock concert.
Most straight-ahead but just as hippie-spiritied was Cigarette She Was, a folk/pop band led by guitar-strumming singer Teruyuki Kawabata. The groups were selling their CDs for something like 200 yen, the equivalent of $1.50.
Yuga plays kpanlogo in this band, his deep eyes _ those that Miu says look like those of an elephant _ buried in his long black hair as he plays with quiet concentration. He is sometimes so serious his upper lip seems to curl up in a haughty snarl.
Miu is so happy she can barely sit still as she jumps around, shaking a wooden stick covered with jangling bells.
I sit in one of the front seats surrounded by the cuddly noises and the warm smell of food and forget all thoughts.
It's a numbing feeling of thoughtless and humble satisfaction.
Who would have imagined that just a couple of months later Miu would break up with Yuga?
They are so young maybe it was to be expected.
She says it started with a quarrel about how to play a musical phrase in a rehearsal in their tiny apartment.
But when she shouted back, he slapped her then pushed her down on the tatami mat.
"I almost hit my head on the corner of his desk," Miu tells me, horrified.
She has to move out immediately, and so I have to go pick her up in our car.
Perhaps hoping to stop her from leaving, Yuga told her that he couldn't end the painful cycle of violence: He was beaten as a child while he was growing up.
His parent were very strict with him because he was an only child and they had such great hopes for him.
He was the kind of kid who couldn't even ask for a toy.
The parents would spank him and beat him and kick him and push him out, even in the winter, naked out into the backyard, although he screamed and stamped his little feet and cried as though his little lungs will tear into pieces.
But sometimes, when he feels that rage burn inside him, he is still that kid, and he can't stop himself when he wants it set things right and he must hit that person in front of him whom he loves so dearly yet who is acting in a way that he despises.
"It's totally messed up," Miu says. "He says he can't forgive his father, but I am not going to forgive him."
It is a sad end to a totally peaceful, hippie story of young love and brainlessly joyous music.
Or so I thought _ except that wasn't the end at all.
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