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Wow.

I should probably just leave it at that.  But that’s a bit short-winded.  Especially since I have an 8 hour layover in Narita Airport to use up. More photos coming from my peeps in Japan. I’ll load ’em up when I get them.

Man, most likely every name or place I mention here will be completely wrong.  I was never good at language (or math, or social studies, or science, or…) – and Japanese has me completely flummoxed.  I sat on the metro in Tokyo reading the English name of the next stop and I would say the name of the place out loud to see if I could get close to the proper pronunciation.  And without fail when the robo-voice came over the loudspeaker to announce the next stop – I was wrong every time.  Not just a little wrong either.  Every instinct I have is incorrect every time.  This doesn’t just apply to Japanese pronunciation.  But my ear is so off that I’m afraid to even say hello and thank you in Japanese for fear of accidentally telling the sweet girl at the coffee shop to mount a great dane or something.  At one hotel, we asked the man at the front desk if there was a place in the hood to get a bottle of wine, and he exclaimed “wine!  wine!?” He rushed back into the office to consult with a co-worker over this outrageous question and we could hear them going back and forth about the situation as if I’d asked him if I could defecate on the front desk and then sculpt it into a bust of Werner Herzog.  “Wine?!”  He came back out and just shook his head and held out his hands gesturing  “no wine… no wine…” and I said, “don’t worry – we’ll just walk up and down the street and find some… no problem, dude…”  He nodded his head and bowed and seemed extremely relieved.  So, I’m pretty sure that I either was asking where to score heroin or where I could find an albino rhinoceros for naked role play.  I’ve never been that into rhinoceros.  Or heroin.  But I’m sure a little of both would surely do for an interesting evening.

I’m lucky enough to get to visit Japan every year or so.  My wife, who is ‘the most famous Gianni,’ is invited to teach her amazing course there every year.  It’s a great business trip for us.  She does most of the business and I’m left to organize, which takes about 1% of my time, and the other 99% I’m left to my own devices, which consist of goofing off.  Mostly – I ride the metro and get very lost and walk miles and miles a day finding interesting places like the Parasite Museum.  So, I’ve always wanted to play in Japan – who hasn’t?  And last year I decided I’d see if I could figure out a way to do it.  I didn’t much care where – I just wanted to play somewhere… anywhere.

I was completely unable to find any place to get a proper gig in Tokyo, which seems odd when you factor in that there are approximately ten billion live houses there.  (Live house = venue.)  This guy Preach, who has played there before, suggested I try playing some non-venue places – like the Puma Store.  And I totally tried that – left messages for the Director of Entertainment at Puma, but never got a call back, which I thought was damn rude of Ed Choi  at 323.845.0500 x10 – but wasn’t very surprising.  Anyway – total failure at finding a proper gig in  Tokyo.

After not being able to pre-arrange anything at all, I did what  what any hapless and desperate musician without a gig does anywhere.  I looked for an open mic night.  The one I found was at a little tiny club in Shibuya, which is possibly the most insane neighborhood in Tokyo, and is also where we stay when we’re there.  Roppongi is where all the foreigners go out.  Ginza is the upscale hood.  Harajuku is the hipster shopping area whose aesthetic was hijacked by Gwenn Stefani and turned into a clothing line.  And Shibuya is sort of the center of youth culture.  The streets are just packed with kids of every type.  I’m pretty sure this is where all youth fashion trends of the world are born.  The place I played was called the Ruby Room.  Impossible to find, up this curvy alley in the neighborhood of the Love Hotels.  These are little hotels, often themed, that cater to couples that don’t have anywhere else to get it on.  You can rent a room by the hour and there are tons and tons of them within a four bock radius.  I walked to the door of the Ruby Room and some youngster dudes sitting against the wall saw my case and made guitar-strumming gestures.  A good thing about Japan is that people can tell you’re an ignorant American from fifty paces – so they don’t even bother finding out if you speak the language.  They know you don’t.  I hate to live up to that, but man – I’m the perfect example of an ignorant American.  In my defense, Japanese is freaking difficult.

I walked into the place, and while I do get in a sort of mode where I try to accept the lack of personal space in Japan – I still get taken aback at times.  The place was tiny.  Not bigger than a living room.  And there were a lot of people there.  By a lot, I mean maybe thirty or so.  But for this place, thirty was jam solid packed.  No kidding.  I had this massive guitar flight case and just had to battle my way inside.  What feels like unacceptable human contact and a sort of semi-polite pushing and shoving that would seem completely wrong to me normally, is the only way to get anywhere under these circumstances.  I made it to the bar and somehow ordered a beer (I can indeed say Kirin and Sapporo and Sake in Japanese…) and spent twenty minutes in a slow Pillabulus style slow motion rotation to finally face the stage.  There was a guy on the stage performing this Japanese poetry rap thing backed by these really weird beats which sounded like somebody got a Casio for Christmas .  I’d be lying if I said it was awesome.  But maybe the lyrics made up for it – there’s no way for me to know.  Let me also mention how hot it was in this place.  Heat that was made more intense by my being the only Gaijin, all by my lonesome, with a massive military grade guitar flight case that could easily be mistaken for a transport to carry high caliber automatic weapons.

And the case in question was, in fact, mistaken as a possible transport for high caliber automatic weapons at more than one airport on the journey.   I’m dripping sweat, I’m not at all sure when I’m supposed to play even though the girl at the door gave me what I’m sure were extremely specific and detailed instructions.  To which I responded with smiles and nods of agreement that I’m sure convinced her that I knew exactly what she was talking about and that I was completely on board and would be the responsible musician ready to rock on cue.

Unfortunately, I’d left my little gig bag at the door – so before I could go to the stage (when I say stage – think of two broken milk crates duct taped together), I’d have to somehow make it through the densely packed crowd, get the gig bag, come back for the guitar in it’s skyscraper sized case, and then somehow tunnel my way through human flesh up to the little stage.  I decided to sit tight near the source of beer, a survival technique I’d learned in Nam years ago.  I had somehow acquired an amazing and highly valued spot at the bar, and I was loath to give it up until I absolutely had to.  I stood there feeling like an unwieldy albino buffalo wishing that I was 3 inches wide, as other folks came up and did their best to get the bar tenders attention.  At one point two people on either side of me reached for their drink at the same time – their arms formed a EMT

style neck stabilization device which kept me staring directly at this girl who was with this scary looking dude who had 80’s hair, fake leather jacket, dangling earring of the feather roach clip variety, and a green screen colored leopard sleeveless shirt.  I prayed he wouldn’t catch me looking at his girlfriend – or at least that he’d realize I had absolutely no choice in the matter.  Knowing that I had these two people to stabilize my neck until the ambulance arrived if the guy broke my spine wasn’t  comforting.  I felt very much like Malcom McDowell in A Clockwork Orange and I waited for someone to come along to squeeze eye-drops into my eyes.   But I knew they’d never make it through the crowd with something as large as an eye-dropper.  Forget about a spinal board and cervical collar.

The next band was kind of a bluesy funky jam band.  They were exceedingly loud and again, not to be judgmental – but fairly non-awesome.  I reminded myself that we were all hapless and desperate musicians who wouldn’t be here if we had the where with all to land a legitimate show.  Each act had it’s own set of fans they’d brought along who squirmed up to the front to cheer on their friends.  You can probably do the calculations on how many fans would be likely squirm up to lend me some support.  But this band had the biggest contingent of fans so far.  One of their very drunk friends embarked on a highly entertaining interpretative dance routine and what I noticed is that people who are acting crazy get afforded a little more space.  He scored at least six inches square  by acting like a spaz.  I tried to memorize some of his moves so that I could toss a few out if my anthropophobia became too much to take.  I have a hard time being a part of a crowd.  I never raise my hands in the air like I just don’t care.  I despise when a performer asks the audience to sing along.  I do not like ‘interactive theater’.  The few times I’ve been in a church, I can’t sing or recite along.  You will never see me at a football game, but if you did, you definitely wouldn’t see me taking part in The Wave.  I’m just not comfortable in a group dynamic.  I’m not sure why I’m spending so much time on this subject.  I think it’s because it was really freaking crowded and being in Japan tends to make too clear that a single human is just one cell in a giant writhing organism.  How I wish we could all be afforded our own private petri dish.  This has something to do with why a cabana at The Viceroy is expensive and a day pass to the Asheville City Pool is cheap.

The band finished and their ten fans bolted immediately which deflated the room from an impossibly tightly packed status to just a tightly packed status.  The girl at the door pointed to me with a warm smile which in Japan, because everyone is so nice – could be construed as “Hey dumb ass, it’s your turn to play.”  So I scrambled for my crap and got set up in little over 30 seconds.  I don’t usually get nervous when I’m playing.  I mean – a little nervous.  But there’s something about not being able to communicate at all with the folks you’re playing for that is, quite frankly, a bit terrifying.  Let’s be honest.  A crowd doesn’t react to you strictly based on your music.  There’s a bit of an opportunity to get them on your side by talking with them first.  You have the chance to make an arrangement with them.  A bit of pleading doesn’t hurt.  “I will try not to suck if you’ll please try not to hate me.  Or, if you do hate me, please consider not booing and throwing things out of consideration for my rather delicate feelings.”  That’s an arrangement that I can usually hammer out and get signed in the first few seconds.  But not here.  I couldn’t even say “konnichiha” because I was so stressed out that I’d say it incorrectly and be heckled and run out in shame at my ignorance and lack of etiquette.  So, I just started playing, which I realized too late could easily result in the very same heckling and running out.  All the liquid I’d drunk that evening immediately evaporated from my body and I was dry as a bone, which usually translates to singing even worse than usual.  The fact that singing is tied to your body and how you feel is a real hassle.  On my best day, I’m a crappy singer.  On my worst… well, on my worst it’s a pretty bad scene.  And this was feeling like one of those nights.  But after the first song, I got something resembling a response.  Maybe not as good a response as the rap/poet guy – but his girlfriend was there.  So, I chalked this up as one of those nights where afterward I’d think to myself, “Why the hell did I think I wanted to do that?”

But at least I could cross “play Tokyo” off the list.  And that was the real goal.  This wasn’t exactly the kind of gig I had in mind when this goal was added to the list.  I’d always pictured a Live at Budokan sort of thing.  But this counts.  It counts enough at any rate.  At my ever-advancing age, it’s prudent to be generous with what I allow myself to cross off the list of things I’d like to do.  I’ve dreamed about playing in Japan ever since about 1992 when I started getting royalty checks from BMI for radio play in Japan every couple of months.  I’m talking about penny’s – like $19 at a time or something, but at the time I was so excited about it.  This was from our first indie record, and I was completely perplexed about how our CD could have somehow made it’s way to Japan.  And I was doubly perplexed about how it could have made its way to a few radio stations.  And I was triply perplexed at the fact that it was being played.  I mean – really.  How could that have possibly happened?  So, I tried my best to find out which stations were playing it, because at the time, I thought that maybe they’d sponsor us to come over and play or something.  A ridiculous thought perhaps, but 1 out of 10 times a ridiculous thought turns into something.  I’m a big proponent of ridiculous thought and ridiculous action.  It sometimes works for me.

So, that was Tokyo.  At least that was the music part of Tokyo.  Not very eventful.  But I made some friends (Hi Jerry – thank you for knowing I couldn’t handle your real name.)  And don’t get me wrong – folks were very nice and came up to compliment and to talk afterward.  The bartender and sound man were really cool and appreciative.  If I could ever set up a show where the audience consisted entirely of bartenders and sound guys, that would probably be a great show.  But you know… hell.  It was an open mic.  I’m making it sound much more lame than it was.  The important point is that I played Tokyo.  It’s official.  It’s been crossed off.  Next time I’ll get a proper gig.  Probably not at Budokon, but…

I had two gigs in Fukuoka, both of which were arranged by our friend, Norie, who is an all around wonderful person.  She is quite possibly the nicest and most generous human being I’ve ever met.  I believe that the openness and complete generosity of the Japanese folks I’ve met is definitely somewhat cultural, because it seems to seep out of everyone we come across, but Norie takes it to another level.  Norie doesn’t have anything to do with the music scene in Fukuoka.  She is our contact at the studio we do business with there.  But she seems to be friends with lots of people.  So, when we were here last year we got to talking about music and she wanted to hear mine and I told her about how cool it would be to play in Japan.  But, we were just sort of talking, and I had no clue she would help me out so much.

She set up the first gig at a place called Bingo Love.  I completely forgot to ask why the hell it’s called Bingo Love and what that means.  As far as I know, bingo just means bingo in translation.  But, I was really psyched to find out how weird a scene a place called Bingo Love would be.  Here’s another example of how freaking cool the people are.  A friend of a boyfriend of Norie’s friend  got me this gig.  Let me break that down.  Someone who doesn’t even know Norie asks someone else to do a favor for an American that none of them know.  And here’s the thing.  They’re happy to do it.  Not only happy, but go through considerable trouble to make it happen.  It blows my mind.  Blows it.  Completely blown.  So, there are sort of two sides to the situation.  1. How freaking cool.  I can’t wait.  2.  Oh man, I’m just a pain in everyone’s ass and I’m causing people to go through trouble to help me for no good reason.  How freaking cool.  I can’t wait.

I vacillated between the two.  This was the first of many times folks just bent over backwards to be nice to me.  Incredible.

But something else I should mention is that because of the language barrier, I had absolutely no idea what I was walking into.  Norie actually speaks and writes English amazingly well – but while we can definitely communicate in generalities – specifics are tough.  Impossible.  For instance – when she emailed that she’d set up a ‘live’ for me – I was like, ‘cool… I wonder what that is.”  Tuns out a ‘live’ is a show.  And for one gig, she emailed that we’d have a rehearsal in the afternoon before the show – so I thought that meant that I was going to be playing with the band or something, which terrified me.  Turns out that a ‘rehearsal’ is a sound check.  I found that out at the sound check and not before.  But I didn’t know what the venue was; could be a metal bar, could be punk, could be an all Carpenters Cover club, could be an old folks home.  No clue.  Bingo Love… your mind can really wander on that one.  Could it be a Japanese bingo parlor with live music on the side?!  I was half hoping that’s what it was.  I’ve played a bowling alley – but never a bingo parlor.  I’m sure that’s in my future somewhere.  I also have no idea if I’m playing on a bill with another band, how long I’ll be asked to play, what kind of music the folks are there to see… nothing.  I know absolutely nothing.  And on one hand, that is the best part about the whole thing.  On the other hand, I was scared shitless.  On the other hand, how freaking cool – can’t wait.  That’s too many hands.

So, the ‘rehearsal’ was at 5pm at Bingo Love.  Norie helped me find the place and I was there right on time.  Another teeny tiny place.  It had a coffee house vibe, but thankfully, it was a bar.  There were some couches and a few chairs.  Super small.  I mean – I’m talking 400 square feet max.  Again – there’s a serious space thing going on.  The hotel rooms are teeny tiny too, but the toilets make up for it with a smorgasbord of options for auto-cleaning your ass.  (A note to all of you out there… do not press the bidet button if your not on the toilet unless you’re really thirsty or really hot.  We can all learn from my mistakes.)  The bar tender/owner was cool right away.  His name was Tero, (I think)  and he told me that Gung (the dude from the other band playing) would be there at 6pm.  So I plugged in and did a little sound check and then went and wandered the neighborhood for a bit.  I came back and Gung turned out to be a woman – the singer of the band.  She spoke some English and we chatted awhile and she seemed cool, but seemed almost as confused as I was about what I was supposed to do.  Honestly – almost everyone seemed to speak some English – but it was always just enough were conversations became immediately confused.  Then her keyboardist and bassist showed up.  They set up and played through a few songs and got dialed in.  They were kind of a jazzy based thing – Gung had a great voice.  When they were through, I asked the bassist how long I should play and he said, “not two hours,” and I was like, oh no man!  I’m totally barging in on their night or something, and I’m a total douche, and they hate me…  But, what could I do.  I wasn’t sure if they thought I was a douche or not.  And I was there.  So I just decided to get through the night, and hoped that it would turn out okay.  They told me they’d play a set at 9p, then I’d go on, then they’d play again to close out the night.  I went and wandered some more and was back drinking a Sapporo at the bar by ten of nine.

The place was full – and by full again, I’m talking 20, maybe 25 people or so.  The band (I never did catch what the name of their band was) was really good.  The keyboardist and bassist were superb jazz players.  And like I said, Gung’s voice was really nice.  She sung in English, which made for some very interesting lyrics to their originals that I wish I’d written down.  But as I’m enjoying their musicianship, I suddenly realize that the people in the place were there to listen to jazz.  And I’m not very jazzy to say the least.  Ask anyone.  I’m jazz-less at best.  So I’m thinking, “man, these dudes are kind of bummed I’ve been forced on them, and now to top it off, everyone is going to think I suck!  Do I duck outside and try to throw an acoustic guitar version of Straight Streets together?  Shit!”  So I start to get very nervous again.  This is the perfect coffee house vibe kind of place where usually I’d tell some weird story which usually would serve to get folks on my side.  But again, that’s a no go here.  All I have to offer is the music and at this point, that isn’t feeling like a good enough offering.  I also learned that the keyboardist and bassist both teach at a jazz music school – so a bunch of their jazz musician students are in the audience.  Shit!  Hell!  These folks are absolutely not here to listen to whatever type of music it is I’m getting ready to play.  So I’m really sweating it

Their set ends and I tell them how good it sounds.  I plug in and the singer does this long announcement of me and I have no idea what she’s saying.  I hear “North Carolina” and I hear “Angelo-san.”  But when people in the audience laugh, I assume she’s saying, “And now this stupid American is going to play some kind of stupid American bullshit and I’m sorry we even have to let him play at all.  And now- give a warm welcome for… The American Douche.”  Of course, that’s not what she was saying at all, (I don’t think) but I wouldn’t have blamed her if she had.  Someday, I will learn a word of Japanese.  It’s on the list.

When we were watching the band play their first set, I leaned to my wife and said, “I think I should pull back and try to be really mellow.”  She said, “Just do what you do.”  That was good advice that I decided to take.  I started playing, and immediately dried up again.  It’s nerves man.  This is such a weird scene and where I’m normally totally comfortable playing in front of people because of a completely deluded sense of self-confidence – here – I was just a bit of a wreck.  But there was a really nice, dare I say decent bordering on good response after the first song and I felt like it was going to be okay.  It wasn’t my best set of all time – that is for certain.  But it was completely passable and I don’t feel like I made a complete idiot of myself.  And I could tell that some folks were enjoying it.  More than one of the jazz students were totally nodding their heads to the music.  I freaking saw it!  Jen, Norie, Haruna and the girlfriend of the boyfriend whose friend got me the gig were all there in support.  I was able to bring out more friends in Japan did I did last time we played in Columbia.  Hmm.

After my set, the band gave me what seemed like genuine pats on the back and a couple of thumbs up which I dearly needed and appreciated (especially the bassist who gave me a much needed, “man, I like what you do…) and then got up and played again.  The weird vibe, whether I imagined it or not, was gone.  They played their set, and ended with a version of Age of Aquarius that I will have to try to mimic for you next time we see each other.  Or my wife can – she does a very good job of it.  It was something that I can’t quite explain, but that I will never forget.  It’s been in my head since that night, and I think it’s going to linger for quite a long time.  What amazing players.  Really good stuff.

After their set, my wife and friends left, and I started drinking heavily with the band.  Tero, the bartender, and I started communicating with the following phrase posed as a question by him and a statement by me, “one more?”,  “one more!”  First I had a long chat with the singer Gung.  She had lived all over the place.  In NYC for a bit and all over Africa and probably more places that I couldn’t quite understand.  She confirmed a religious bent, which I’d thought I’d heard in some of the lyrics.  Very nice person.  Then I started talking to the bassist Taisuke who it turns out, spoke English that I could almost completely understand.  I can’t say enough about how ashamed I am to force folks to speak my language in their country.  There is nothing more rude if you ask me.

Taisuke and I became friends right away.  After awhile I got the back-story on the gig.  It turns out that Norie’s friends boyfriend had once owned Bingo Love.  He’s an acoustic musician and had a gig the same night – but since he didn’t speak any English and since the venue he was playing at was not very English-friendly – he asked these dudes if they’d mind my slipping on the bill.  He thought I might be more comfortable with a bit of English in the house.  Again, this sort of consideration for a complete stranger just amazes me.  I apologized all over myself to Taisuke for stepping in on their night – but he was completely gracious and said he was glad it happened, he liked the tunes, and that it was cool to make a new friend.  We had a lot in common.  We talked about music and his upcoming gig with another band in Korea and all manner of subjects suited to drinking late at night in Fukuoka, Japan.  Great dude.  We’ve already emailed back and forth a few times and I feel pretty sure that we’re going to keep in touch. I like seeing Japenese characters in the from field in my email inbox.

I also met these two dudes who introduced themselves as The King and Mika who said that they played music too.  Mika was trying to describe the style of music he played, and we settled on, “the Japanese Johnny Cash.”  The King and the Japanese Johnny Cash in one night.  Not bad.  I realized that the language barrier matters less and less the drunker you get.  Slurring in any language is just slurring.  There was much back slapping and interesting soul brother hand shaking and the night ended quite well.  By about 2:30am, I had to get out of there.   I wandered back to the hotel with my giant rolling flight case and a slight stagger.  All in all, a fantastic night.

The last gig was to be with a band called Yaeyama Monkey.  Again, the details of this whole thing were beyond sketchy to me.  I knew that the gig was to take place in a beach town about an hour from Fukuoka.  I knew that Yaeyama Monkey played some kind of traditional Japanese music, which featured an instrument called the sanshin.  And I knew that Yaeyama was a group of islands somewhere near Okinawa where the music originated.  I knew it was at some sort of festival.  But that’s about it.

The guys in this two man band are named Ryo-sa and Hiro.  The vague plan was that they’d pick me up at the hotel at noon and we’d drive to wherever it was we were going together.  I figured I was on a need to know basis on all other details, and I was completely okay with that.  And again, this was set up through a friend of a friend of a friend.  Norie knew someone who knew Ryo-sa and asked if they could hook me up somehow. I know I’m on repeat – but the fact that these guys were willing to take pains and go out of their way to set me up, to give me a ride, to have a stranger hanging all up in their space all day –  is just incredible.  Norie came to the hotel to introduce us (even though she didn’t know Ryo-sa) and

right when he walked in the door I knew this was going to be a decent day.  He just radiated this friendliness and while he only spoke a bit of English – I had the feeling we’d communicate just fine.  I put my gear in their van, which was stuffed to the gills with musical instruments and surfboards.  I was introduced to Hiro and their friend Shoji.  Much to Ryo-sa’s surprise, it turned out that Shoji spoke English really well.  He said that he worked for a year in Singapore as the manager of a restaurant and taught himself to speak English while there.  Which begs the question; why can’t I teach myself a little Japanese?  I’m guessing that IQ plays into it somehow.  Before we pulled out into the street, Hiro opened up a cooler and pulled out four ice cold beers and said something that must have been, “You like beer?”  Shoji said, “You mind if I smoke?”  I said, “Yes!  No!” and my hunch on a good day coming was confirmed.  We rolled through a tollbooth and I hid my beer in mortal fear, but Ryo-sa took a big swig right in front of the attendant (Hiro was driving) so – obviously things are a bit loser in Japan than they are in 2010 America and 1941 Warsaw.  It kept freaking me out when Ryo-sa, who was sitting in the front left seat would turn around to talk.  I was sitting in the right back seat under a surfboard, and I would start to panic – “dude, why aren’t you looking at the road!”  I kept forgetting that the steering wheel is on the other side round in these parts.

On the way we all talked through Shoji (poor guy) about what bands we liked, what kind of music we played, general sort of road trip getting to know you banter.  These guys were cool as shit.  I gathered a bit more info on Yaeyama Monkey and learned that they played a very traditional style of music that originates in Okinawa where they grew up.  I believe it’s called Okinawa Min’yo. I was under the impression that they put their own spin on it, but that it was a very old and very traditional style.  (If you consider 1450 old…)  The featured instrument is the sanshin, which is a strange and way cool banjo type instrument.  It doesn’t have frets.  It has three gut strings.  And where the banjo drum would be, is a smaller sort of bowl type apparatus covered in snakeskin.  It’s a gorgeous instrument and it makes a plucky percussive sound that sustains only for a second.  It really reminded me of the banjo quite a bit – which got us to talking about the traditional music from where I live, in Asheville, NC, which of course is bluegrass.

We got off the highway and started down rural roads into incredible country-side that reminded me of Western North Carolina.  The mountains looked very similar.  But then we rounded a curve and the ocean came into view.  It’s one of the most gorgeous places I’ve ever seen.  Rocky islands dotted out in the Sea of Japan.  Surfers and fishermen.  Spectacular.  The area is called Itoshima – I’m pretty sure.

I tried to get a bit of info about the gig, but it was still all a bit hazy.  The festival was being organized by some folks who own a sea-side restaurant – and this was the first try at an event like this.  So, I’m starting to get a little nervous again.  These guys are going to be playing this traditional Japanese music in a tiny little sea side village way out in the middle of nowhere in freaking Japan, and  I’m starting to realize that the crowd is probably not going to be very interested in singer/songwriter pop songs from North Carolina (approximately 10,141 miles away).  But the guys were so cool and it was such a nice day and I was somewhere that I had no business being, so I decide not to worry about it too much and to enjoy the hell out of the situation.  Which was quite easy.

We pulled up to the site, and the beach was just incredible.  The day was perfect.  There was a rickety truck stage set up with a sound system, and it seemed a lot like other small festivals I’ve played at before.  We unloaded the van and met the sound guy and got set up pretty quickly.  I did soundcheck first – and Ryo-sa said he wanted to play djembe with me.  Great! So I was kind of nervous at sound check, but I got full stamp of approval from the guys which completely eased my fish out of water discomfort.  I figured if the crowd was anywhere near as cool and nice as these dudes, that I’d be home free.

Then they did their sound check.  I can honestly say I’ve never heard anything like these guys before.  Ryo-sa was on either acoustic guitar or djembe or cajón, and Hiro was on the sanshin.  Both of them sang.  The melodies and the way they worked the tremolo in their voices made me think of some sort of Indian vocal music.  The sort of cool semi tone wavering you hear in some of that music – it has a touch of sandpaper to it… they were doing something similar at times.  But the melodies themselves were not Indian.  They were very much their own thing.  I’ve tried to read about this type of music since hearing it – and somewhere it said that half tones aren’t used- but I don’t think this was the case with them.  I don’t think it’s specifically religious music, but it had a spiritual vibe of some sort going for it.  I wish I could understand the lyrics, but even without knowing what they were saying – it was freaking incredible.  And the sanshin is an awesome instrument.  I couldn’t wait for their set.

We found out that we were to get free beer, which pleased us all to no end, and we sat in the grass and took advantage of that fact and watched the troupes of gorgeous Hawaii dancers as they performed on the stage.  We met Kina who owned the place with her husband.  She was super-cool and asked us all sorts of questions prepping for her introduction of the bands.

We got a bite to eat and started talking to the guy working the noodle stand.  His name was Makoto and he told us he played the didgeridoo.  He wanted to know if we could jam at the end of the night.  Um, okay!?  I didn’t know if that meant on stage, or out in a field somewhere.

Ryo-sa and Hiro went out to the beach to practice.  Shoji was asleep in the van (he’d had a rough one the night before).  So I took a long walk up and down the coastline and checked out all the vendors at the festival where there was some interesting stuff up for sale.  I almost got killed crossing the road because I constantly look the wrong way before stepping off the curb.  I also took cover when I heard a blast that I thought was incoming mortar fire, but turned out to be some kind of insane way of making popcorn where they pressurize a container which causes an explosion and all the corn pops at once.  Possibly the coolest and most dangerous food preparation I’ve ever witnessed.

I still wasn’t exactly sure when I was playing. I knew the music started at sunset, and I assumed I was first.  I grabbed a book and a beer and lay in the grass and watched the hula girls a bit more. Would have been a perfect day had it ended right there.

Sunset came, and Ryo-sa told me that Yaeyama Monkey would play first, then me, then this singer/songwriter guy named Akao (who we’d just met and who asked me if he could jam on the harmonic on my last song – sure?!) and then Mako the diegeridoo guy and then a jam session with everybody.  Now I’m going to tell you this straight out.  I am usually diametrically opposed to jam sessions, jamming, blueberry jam, door jam – anything at all with the word jam in it (except for the band, The Jam).  But when you’re jamming with a freaking sanshin, a diegeridoo, djembe, and a harmonica – well, then all bets are off and I’m front and center for that action.

Yaeyama Monkey started their set and I think I went into some sort of a trance.  Their music was at times mellow with lilting melodic vocal lines, and at times they were seriously doing a Japanese stage craft version of the ‘put your hands in the air’ thing.  Hiro is what I consider to be a bad-ass sanshin player- and even though I’ve only seen one in my life, I’m willing to bet that I’m right.  And Ryo-sa is a true natural front man.  I have no idea what they were saying in their considerable banter between songs, but I was laughing at their jokes all the same, and the crowd was loving them.  For good reason.  They were quite simply the coolest thing I’ve seen in a

long time.  I’m honestly not a huge music fan.  I like making it, but I don’t listen to very much of it.  But this was something special.  It didn’t sound at all like bluegrass- but I swear there are similarities.  The vocals had that Indian texture thing going at times.  The melodies were completely unfamiliar and awesome. I’m not sure how to say it.  It was good.

They finished, and I bowed to their awesomeness. They seemed genuinely happy that I appreciated what they did.  I know the feeling.  I was really glad that I didn’t have to fake my complete and total adoration of these guys.

Then I plugged in and got set.  Maybe it was the afternoon beers or the way these guys had become instant friends, or maybe it was the general good vibe of the crowd and the place, but I wasn’t nervous at all this time.  I tried to just embrace the oddity on display aspect of the situation.  This set was the way playing is supposed to be, where you forget everything and you don’t have to think about what your fingers or doing or what the next lyric is, because it all just happens and you can concentrate on getting into it and enjoying it yourself.  That’s when it’s fun and this is when you think to yourself, “oh yeah… this is why!”  And this is usually when it comes out the best too.  This was the most fun I’ve had playing in a long time.  The crowd was completely gracious and appreciative and reactive and amazing. The other musicians were into it and cheered me on.  Ryo-sa hooted and got the crowd clapping along a couple of times (since I was again banter-less – and I was just grinning from ear to ear.  I mean – it was fun like playing capture the flag with friends when I was ten was fun.  I didn’t have a set list, which goes against everything I believe in, but just played whatever seemed to want to be played. Folks can tell when you’re posing, or when you’re just reciting.  And they can tell when you mean it.  I was meaning it up there for a bit.  I called up Akao for the last song, and he just whaled on the harmonica.  I can’t stress enough how much I usually hate an impromptu jam of any sort.  But I may have been wrong about that.  Or maybe I’ve just had bad experiences with it.  I’m not a huge fan of the harmonica either.  But this was great fun.  Akao just killed it.  A freaking perfect ending to the set.

I finished and gave a huge thanks to Ryo-sa and Hiro and Shijo, which no one could understand… including Ryo-sa and Hiro, and man, how fun.  I jumped off stage and got some hugs from my new peeps.  Shoji said, “I had goosebumps.  I am now a fan.”  I probably don’t have to mention that this made my year.  Honestly.  There was a lot of love happening, and I’m not usually an a lot of love type of person.

Next up was Akao Kazunori, aka FolkeyMan, who had just finished playing harmonica with me.  I don’t know why really, but to me, Akao came off like a Japanese version of a really young Bob Dylan.  Maybe it was the acoustic guitar and the harmonica holder around his neck, and the wool scarf and the glasses and the hat.  This guy was a total pro.  He had the singer songwriter thing completely going on.  Great great songs.  I couldn’t understand the lyrics, of course – but the songs were great.  Kick ass voice.  Incredible delivery and stage presence.  Then he called Ryo-sa up on stage to play djembe with him for his last song, and he went into this low kind of rock riff and bantered with the crowd.  No clue what he was saying, but there was something about a tissue?

Tish?  Teesh?  Maybe a girls name?  I have no freaking idea.  But he was giving the crowd instructions that they should yell “Teesh” at a certain part in the song. He launched into this song and Ryo-sa started pounding on the drum – and I don’t know what to say.  It rocked like nobody’s business.  Everyone was clapping along and getting into it and screaming “Teesh!” at all the right times. I tried to abstain to remain true to myself, but there was nothing I could do.  Screw it.  “Teesh!”  Hell yeah. A total showman and an amazing voice and just totally kicking it.  The crowd loved him and so did I.  Amazing.  This has to be the end of this perfect day.  There’s no way it could get better.

Now comes Mako the didgeridoo guy.  I’d never seen a didgeridoo played in person.  I don’t think I knew exactly what to expect – but I definitely did not expect what happened when he began to play.  God above, I was completely thunderstruck.  I was hearing spaceships, dragons

belching, the gurgle of an under-ground river of flowing hot magma made of elephant blood, dinosaurs in battle, millions of angry insects, and a Moog synth with more modules than any that could actually exist.  My jaw dropped to the ground and I swear to everything sacred that we all started laughing in utter amazement and looking at each other and grabbing each other arms trying to say, “are you hearing what I’m hearing?  Holy shit!”  I know I keep saying everything was amazing and astounding and all that – but this is the point of what I’m trying to explain about this day.  Everything was amazing and astounding.  After he finished, when we were through yelling and screaming at the top of our lungs and giving this guy his full due in the applause department – I turned to Ryo-sa and we both just started laughing in amazement.  I mean – Mako – Jesus Christ man?!  Where the hell did you learn to do that?!   I asked him just that later, and he tried to explain to me how you can get ten thousand different sounds out of a hollow piece of tree just by arranging your mouth in certain ways – but I’m not buying any of it.  And what about the circular breath?  How the hell-?!  It’s some kind of voodoo magic, plain and simple.  The didgeridoo is no joke.  It is a serious weapon.  Holy crap I say.  Holy crap.

Any anti-jam feelings were completely gone and I just hoped they hadn’t forgotten that I was invited.  It didn’t really matter, because I was the first one on the stage.  Here was the plan for the jam session: play in D.  Right.  Okay.  Usually a musical plan like this would cause me to hang myself.  I need order and exactitude.  But screw it.  “Teesh!”  Mako started out with this low rumbling note that made your bowels yearn to evacuate.  Then I started in with a droney bagpipey thing that may have been a cross between some Indian sitar stuff and maybe something like This is the End by the Doors.  It had that kind of exotic slightly scary vibe.

I was next to Ryo-sa who was on the djembe again.  On the other side was Hiro on sanshin. Akao was playing these weird notes on his harmonica, and was also doing this vocal chant thing at times.  I really do have very little experience with the ‘jam’ – but there were actual parts happening, there were shared dynamics, and we were playing as if we had rehearsed.  The crowd was really paying attention.  We were playing like a band.  It was an immensely pleasurable experience and the crowd seemed to feel the same.  I know I saw some folks video taping this, and it’s my mission in life to get ahold of it.

Once again, this day could have ended again here and would have been one I’d always remember.  But it didn’t end yet.  There was more.  My wife, Norie and Haruna, weren’t able to come to the festival because they were working – but they showed up a little while after we finished playing.  We had a bite to eat and then drank a few beers in the meadow.  Two little girls came by and made us try, if I have this right, some rice concoction.  I think they beat the crap out of this rice with a club of some sort, and – well I don’t know.  It didn’t taste like rice.  It was like, a little chewy piece of something I could never describe.  Delicious.  It was way dark by this time – and lots of people were setting up tents to camp overnight right on the spot.  They were showing an old Japanese adventure movie on a sheet stretched over the chicken coops.  The stars

were out in force and it was a gorgeous night.  The organizers of the event came up to us and there was this little impromptu mini-ceremony where they presented me with what they called a “happy tip.”  I had already been paid, and I said, “no!”  but Ryo-sa gave me a look that kind of told me I should accept gracefully – which I did.  Norie told me later that they said that this was their very first festival and that they were happy that I was a part of it and that they wanted to give me “happy tip” to show their appreciation.  And any musician will tell you – an envelope with money in it is an awesome way to do that.  I couldn’t believe it.  We took a bunch of pictures, Hiro gave me a big swig of sake, and again, the love was just freaking spewing.

Someone had started a big bonfire, and Ryo-sa and Hiro said they’d play a few songs for the girls since they missed the music. And this was the very best part of an incredible day.  Sitting around a fire at a beach ten thousand miles from my home and listening to these guys play this amazing rare music.  Shoji had left (the rough night the night before had finally taken him out), but Norie was there so we had a bit of translation going on and they were able to tell us what the songs were about and a bit about where the music came from.  I remember that one song had something to do with an eagle flying into the sunset on new years eve.

Or something along those lines.  We gathered also that Ryo-sa’s great grandfather had taught him many of these tunes.  They played about three beautiful songs for us.  And then we had to go, since I had to leave for the airport at 5am.  We hugged and said goodbye and started back to Fukuoka.  I’ll never forget these guys and I hope we’re able to stay in touch.  This day was an experience that I’ll never forget.  I just got an email from Mako the didgeridoo player, “The jam session was WICKED!!”  Yup, it was.  It really was.  I just got another email from Norie with a message from Ryo-sa.  “I won’t forget this connection ever. Thank you very much.  Keep in touch.  from ryo-sa”  I feel exactly the same way.  It’s the same feeling as after being in a summer camp for six weeks and then having to say goodbye to all the friends you made and promising to keep in touch.  I don’t know how it happened over the course of only one day.  I’m pretty damn lucky that the trip ended like this instead of at the open mic in Tokyo.

I’ve been trying to figure out my motives for making music for awhile now.  I mean, back in the day it was easy.  I wanted to be a rich and famous rock star.  Who doesn’t?  But when you’re not trying to be rich and famous anymore, what are the reasons to do it?  It’s mostly a hassle.  There are very few payoffs.  It takes up valuable time. So why bother?  Part of it is Phil Cooks Theorem – that it is a lofty goal to leave this world with your name on a slew of product.  And I love making records.  And I want a to have a big fat varied selection of them to give away in goodie bags at my funeral.  So that’s part of it.  But experiences like this are also part of it.  And I want more of them.  So maybe a 30 gig acoustic tour / documentary film making experiment / screenwriting workshop with Danielle MF Howle is as good/terrible an idea as I think it might be.  There’s talk of such a monster being born.  Remember my mentioning that I’m a big proponent of ridiculous thought and ridiculous action?  This could be just the thing.

Sayonara suckers.

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I grabbed a little bit of Ryo-sa and Hiro playing at the fire with my phone.  Can’t see much, but you get the idea.

Campfire Vid 1 from treadmill trackstar on Vimeo.

Campfire Vid 2 from treadmill trackstar on Vimeo.

Some vid I found of Mako at the Voodoo Lounge – I knew he had a voodoo connection… You truly can’t hear the subtle insanity of all the sounds he can make, but you get a vague idea at least…  Notice he never ever takes a breath.  Try doing the circular breath thing.  It’s madness.