I'll skip the customary header, as this is well overdue. Unfortunately, I couldn't commit my thoughts on the 2nd day of the Enban summer festival to blog due to an embarassing lack of knowledge about the performers I wanted to write about. I haven't been able to get in touch with Taguchi-san to ask him about the artists in question (partially due to circumstances explained below) so I'll simply frame the review of the second day as a series of questions about the performers.
1. What is the name of the woman who writes the grotesque/erotic visual stories which feature at Enban events every year? Did they have to rehearse much to get an entire band to play along with her this time? What traditional Japanese story-telling form is her performance based on? Did this year's performance feature her most shocking image so far? There was an audible gasp from the audience as she turned the page to show a lovingly rendered drawing of pre-coital female nether-regions.
2. What was the name of the guy who I thought was merely the token crazy old guy of the festival, but who turned out to be the most unhinged performer of the day? Is Debu-debu the name of his band? Was the bored looking guitar player in the band his daughter? Why does "Debu-debu love nothing" as he chanted for several minutes in what was presumably the band theme song? Has anyone else done the chilly bin as a kick drum thing before? If not, it was a pretty awesome invention, albeit a short lived one...
3. What is the name of the guy who does insane rants with wild gesticulations over a background of odd electronica? Did he rehearse his violent duo with Enban-owner Taguchi-san, where he pullse Taguchi's hair while forcing him to make rapid fire sketches on various themes? When exactly in that performance was Taguchi-san's right arm broken? Is Taguchi-san right handed? Because that would explain why he's not replying to my emails at the moment...
If I find the answers to any of the above questions, I'll fill them in later.
Friday, September 9, 2011
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Special #2: Reports from the Enban Summer Festival. Day 1, #2: Takahiro Hirama (平間貴大)
Who: 平間貴大 (Takahiro Hirama)
Well?
Ever since I moved to Tokyo, I've seen Hirama-kun making trouble wherever he goes. Frying the transistors of the Fender amp at Enban, injecting drum machine presets into delicate improvised textures at Grid 605 (that was during his drum machine phase), throwing stones at a pile of tapes as Madoka Kono made sophisticated casette player drones, somehow failing to play his own CD from a CD player at the release party for said CD, frustrating the audience with misdirection in a prepared guitar performance where he merely turned the amp of an on. I could go on.
And yet his constant inventiveness means that occasionally, he turns out an absolute gem of a performance which a less frustrating artist could probably never realize. His standout show to my mind was when he brought a sheet of glass, a wedge, a handheld plastic fan and a pack of cotton buds to Enban. He proceeded to balance the glass sheet on the wedge, taped the fan beneath the glass and then threw the cotton buds one by one on to the glass. At first nothing happened, but the laws of probability dictated that one side of the glass would eventually accumulate more cotton buds than the other. When this tipping point was reached, the glass started to rock on the wedge until it hit the fan producing a sharp buzzing noise once each oscillation. In my opinion, the performance was really a master class in minimal music. The concept was clear, the materials limited, the time was set by the finite number of cotton buds in the pack. And yet the sound produced was complex.
Lately, Hirama has been turning more to computerised sound sources. His performance at the Enban summer festival on Saturday consisted of running the word "no" through the Google translate speech generator for a number of different languages. The 6th floor lounge of O-nest was filled with layers of synthesized voices, coming in and out of phase as the successive "no"s, "non"s, "nein"s, etc, were translated. It was definitely one of his more musical performances.
This youtube link from a recording of a performance at the now defunct loopline is fairly representative of his style, but there are a number of clips of Hirama on line, some of them dealing with his involvement in the New Methodist Art Group (no relation to the Christian denomination).
Well?
Ever since I moved to Tokyo, I've seen Hirama-kun making trouble wherever he goes. Frying the transistors of the Fender amp at Enban, injecting drum machine presets into delicate improvised textures at Grid 605 (that was during his drum machine phase), throwing stones at a pile of tapes as Madoka Kono made sophisticated casette player drones, somehow failing to play his own CD from a CD player at the release party for said CD, frustrating the audience with misdirection in a prepared guitar performance where he merely turned the amp of an on. I could go on.
And yet his constant inventiveness means that occasionally, he turns out an absolute gem of a performance which a less frustrating artist could probably never realize. His standout show to my mind was when he brought a sheet of glass, a wedge, a handheld plastic fan and a pack of cotton buds to Enban. He proceeded to balance the glass sheet on the wedge, taped the fan beneath the glass and then threw the cotton buds one by one on to the glass. At first nothing happened, but the laws of probability dictated that one side of the glass would eventually accumulate more cotton buds than the other. When this tipping point was reached, the glass started to rock on the wedge until it hit the fan producing a sharp buzzing noise once each oscillation. In my opinion, the performance was really a master class in minimal music. The concept was clear, the materials limited, the time was set by the finite number of cotton buds in the pack. And yet the sound produced was complex.
Lately, Hirama has been turning more to computerised sound sources. His performance at the Enban summer festival on Saturday consisted of running the word "no" through the Google translate speech generator for a number of different languages. The 6th floor lounge of O-nest was filled with layers of synthesized voices, coming in and out of phase as the successive "no"s, "non"s, "nein"s, etc, were translated. It was definitely one of his more musical performances.
This youtube link from a recording of a performance at the now defunct loopline is fairly representative of his style, but there are a number of clips of Hirama on line, some of them dealing with his involvement in the New Methodist Art Group (no relation to the Christian denomination).
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Special #2: Reports from the Enban Summer Festival. Day 1, #1: MARK
Who: MARK
What: Harrowing songs from Tokyo's most horrible vocal cords
Well?
Let's get the sexist bullshit out of the way. There's nothing "cute" about MARK. She's a relatively unfetching Tokyo gal, singing horribly and at length about life and love. Also, despite my limited Japanese ability, I get the feeling that her lyrics are sometimes incoherent. There's no possibility of attaching some "cute Japanese girl doing noise" fetish to her.
(Honestly, I feel shitty even bringing up issues of gender and attractiveness when writing about music, but it's *a thing*, especially when so many of the fans of weird Japanese music are white men, so I can't help but feel it's worth noting that MARK exists outside that world.)
I distinctly remember the first time I heard MARK's voice, in a music store/venue in Ochanomizu. I didn't realize that the shows on the second floor were piped through to the first floor music store P.A. I'm ashamed to admit my superficial reaction now, but as I heard the decidedly non-dulcet tones of her voice come on after a series of unremarkable J-indies tracks, I felt like I'd discovered some unknown "outsider" music from Japan's past, and I went to ask the staff what CD they were playing. As it turned out, there was no CD and the music was very much in the present being performed on the second floor by a 20-something girl with the stage name MARK. At that performance, she had a backing duo on keyboard and bass, who seemed to be snickering at her as she hacked her way through lengthy original ballads.
MARK's performance in the 6th floor lounge for the Enban summer festival was a solo one, but the sense that people were snickering remained, with some incredulous audience members clearly catching MARK for the first time, and unsure of how to react.
MARK's music faces the same objections that all "outsider" music (Taguchi-san chose to use the word "cult" to describe her in the Festival notes) faces - the charge that she is in some sense "putting it on", that she's singing terribly on purpose to attract attention. Personally, I don't think it matters one way or another. To me Mark's ear-hurting vocals and generally unseductive music suggest the human fear of being unlovable and not entirely blameless for being unlovable.
I should point out that this is just my spin on MARK. She clearly had admirers and friends among the audience at the summer festival (heck, I'm one of the former) and I wouldn't want to leave the reader with the impression that she's some abused joke of the Tokyo scene. Given the fact that she's a competent guitarist and pianist as well, it's clear that she knows what she's doing to the music when she throws her vocals into the mix. However calculated it may be, I still find something brave about her willingness to present such an ugly sound to an audience which largely had no idea what to expect.
What: Harrowing songs from Tokyo's most horrible vocal cords
Well?
Let's get the sexist bullshit out of the way. There's nothing "cute" about MARK. She's a relatively unfetching Tokyo gal, singing horribly and at length about life and love. Also, despite my limited Japanese ability, I get the feeling that her lyrics are sometimes incoherent. There's no possibility of attaching some "cute Japanese girl doing noise" fetish to her.
(Honestly, I feel shitty even bringing up issues of gender and attractiveness when writing about music, but it's *a thing*, especially when so many of the fans of weird Japanese music are white men, so I can't help but feel it's worth noting that MARK exists outside that world.)
I distinctly remember the first time I heard MARK's voice, in a music store/venue in Ochanomizu. I didn't realize that the shows on the second floor were piped through to the first floor music store P.A. I'm ashamed to admit my superficial reaction now, but as I heard the decidedly non-dulcet tones of her voice come on after a series of unremarkable J-indies tracks, I felt like I'd discovered some unknown "outsider" music from Japan's past, and I went to ask the staff what CD they were playing. As it turned out, there was no CD and the music was very much in the present being performed on the second floor by a 20-something girl with the stage name MARK. At that performance, she had a backing duo on keyboard and bass, who seemed to be snickering at her as she hacked her way through lengthy original ballads.
MARK's performance in the 6th floor lounge for the Enban summer festival was a solo one, but the sense that people were snickering remained, with some incredulous audience members clearly catching MARK for the first time, and unsure of how to react.
MARK's music faces the same objections that all "outsider" music (Taguchi-san chose to use the word "cult" to describe her in the Festival notes) faces - the charge that she is in some sense "putting it on", that she's singing terribly on purpose to attract attention. Personally, I don't think it matters one way or another. To me Mark's ear-hurting vocals and generally unseductive music suggest the human fear of being unlovable and not entirely blameless for being unlovable.
I should point out that this is just my spin on MARK. She clearly had admirers and friends among the audience at the summer festival (heck, I'm one of the former) and I wouldn't want to leave the reader with the impression that she's some abused joke of the Tokyo scene. Given the fact that she's a competent guitarist and pianist as well, it's clear that she knows what she's doing to the music when she throws her vocals into the mix. However calculated it may be, I still find something brave about her willingness to present such an ugly sound to an audience which largely had no idea what to expect.
Special #2: Reports from the Enban summer festival (Acid Mother's Tennis Coats and Nisennenmondai)
What: Enban summer festival
Who: Acts from Tokyo, Kansai and beyond with a link to Enban
Where: Shibuya's O-nest: 5th and 6th floors
Well?
I'm not much of a summer festival guy. Somehow I don't think I'll ever make it to Fuji Rock (particularly if My Bloody Valentine's triumphant return couldn't drag me there a few years ago.) Even a day trip to Summer Sonic seems like too much work, and Loud Park's focus on New and Hair metal this year leaves me cold.
About the only summer festival I do regularly make it to is the Enban Jamboree - recently renamed "Enban Summer Festival" (did Taguchi-san finally catch on to the Boy Scout connotations of "jamboree"?)
The word "eclectic" may be overused, but any festival which includes psych legends Acid Mother's Temple (playing with The Tennis Coats!) along with unknown trouble-makers like Takahiro Hirama (平間貴大) deserves to be labelled so. I saw a bunch of compelling odd ball acts over the two days of the festival, particularly in the 6th floor lounge. For these relatively unknown bands, I'll do separate entries in the next day or two.
This blog is meant to focus on Tokyo music which has received little or no mention outside of Japan, but I can't resist briefly commenting here on two of the big acts who played the last day of the festival. Firstly, Nisennenmondai played a stunning set on Sunday night. It's the first time I've seen them using synthesizer instead of guitar, and I was surprised to find that I liked it better than their traditional guitar/bass/drums sound. Of course the rhythm section is still the same, so the sound is unmistakably nisennenmondai, but the substitution of synth for guitar arguably drags them even closer to a krautrock sound. After a long break from seeing them live, I was struck anew by their admirable economy of sound. The bass and drums lock tight in simple, poweful patterns which usually mutate gradually, but sometimes turn on a dime. Layered on top is the sound of a small synthesizer (perhaps merely a keyboard with some particularly choice patches) run through a single effect pedal producing a spectrum of sounds from twinkly arpeggios to all out drone. The crowd couldn't get enough of them, particularly as they only played two songs (albeit longform ones.)
The other big act to catch my attention was the unholy amalgam of Acid Mother's Temple and Tennis Coats whoch was dubbed "Acid Mother's Tennis Coats" for the night. Anyone who thought that Tennis Coats might prove a calming influence on the Acid Mothers was soon proven wrong. The performance was as ridiculously overblown as Nisennenmondai's was restrained. Tennis Coats allowed themselves to be absorbed into the Acid Mother's Temple sound, putting up little fight as their melodies were dissolved by reverb, and their song structures eroded by Makoto Kawabata's psych guitar attack. The sound was hardly the point though as the performance grew wilder towards the end. Clothes were shed (Mitsuru Tabata's "Jazz Belly" was on full display, as he traipsed through the 6th floor lounge in his undies straight after the show), and Kawabata's guitar was set on fire (admittedly only the showy, methylated spirits kind of fire), smashed to pieces and flung into the audience.
On another day, I might have groaned at their self-indulgent excess, but it all seemed appropriate on a Sunday night in Tokyo in the sweltering summer heat.
Who: Acts from Tokyo, Kansai and beyond with a link to Enban
Where: Shibuya's O-nest: 5th and 6th floors
Well?
I'm not much of a summer festival guy. Somehow I don't think I'll ever make it to Fuji Rock (particularly if My Bloody Valentine's triumphant return couldn't drag me there a few years ago.) Even a day trip to Summer Sonic seems like too much work, and Loud Park's focus on New and Hair metal this year leaves me cold.
About the only summer festival I do regularly make it to is the Enban Jamboree - recently renamed "Enban Summer Festival" (did Taguchi-san finally catch on to the Boy Scout connotations of "jamboree"?)
The word "eclectic" may be overused, but any festival which includes psych legends Acid Mother's Temple (playing with The Tennis Coats!) along with unknown trouble-makers like Takahiro Hirama (平間貴大) deserves to be labelled so. I saw a bunch of compelling odd ball acts over the two days of the festival, particularly in the 6th floor lounge. For these relatively unknown bands, I'll do separate entries in the next day or two.
This blog is meant to focus on Tokyo music which has received little or no mention outside of Japan, but I can't resist briefly commenting here on two of the big acts who played the last day of the festival. Firstly, Nisennenmondai played a stunning set on Sunday night. It's the first time I've seen them using synthesizer instead of guitar, and I was surprised to find that I liked it better than their traditional guitar/bass/drums sound. Of course the rhythm section is still the same, so the sound is unmistakably nisennenmondai, but the substitution of synth for guitar arguably drags them even closer to a krautrock sound. After a long break from seeing them live, I was struck anew by their admirable economy of sound. The bass and drums lock tight in simple, poweful patterns which usually mutate gradually, but sometimes turn on a dime. Layered on top is the sound of a small synthesizer (perhaps merely a keyboard with some particularly choice patches) run through a single effect pedal producing a spectrum of sounds from twinkly arpeggios to all out drone. The crowd couldn't get enough of them, particularly as they only played two songs (albeit longform ones.)
The other big act to catch my attention was the unholy amalgam of Acid Mother's Temple and Tennis Coats whoch was dubbed "Acid Mother's Tennis Coats" for the night. Anyone who thought that Tennis Coats might prove a calming influence on the Acid Mothers was soon proven wrong. The performance was as ridiculously overblown as Nisennenmondai's was restrained. Tennis Coats allowed themselves to be absorbed into the Acid Mother's Temple sound, putting up little fight as their melodies were dissolved by reverb, and their song structures eroded by Makoto Kawabata's psych guitar attack. The sound was hardly the point though as the performance grew wilder towards the end. Clothes were shed (Mitsuru Tabata's "Jazz Belly" was on full display, as he traipsed through the 6th floor lounge in his undies straight after the show), and Kawabata's guitar was set on fire (admittedly only the showy, methylated spirits kind of fire), smashed to pieces and flung into the audience.
On another day, I might have groaned at their self-indulgent excess, but it all seemed appropriate on a Sunday night in Tokyo in the sweltering summer heat.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
狂乱村 (Kyouran mura)
Who: 宇宙さん(uchu-san) (vocals) and 茄子さん (nasu-san) (drums)
What: Minimal girl punk duo
Well?
Kyouran mura translates to something like "Village of madness", and I personally think this duo of the oddly stage-named Uchu-san (lit. Ms. Outerspace) and Nasu-san (lit. Ms. Eggplant) are closer to madness than a lot of other willfully "odd" Japanese acts.
Nasu-san handles the drumming with an unschooled primitivism rarely found among Tokyo musicians. Over her hectic tom rolls, Uchu-san yells lyrics from the depths of despair only an overworked school administrator can know. There's nothing cute about this duo, and I'm happy to apply the over-used term "raw" to describe them.
There is a strange tension between the spiky Uchu-san and the amiable Nasu-san, which is one of the few things about their act which does seem to be managed. At one gig, Uchu spent a few uncomfortable minutes taking Nasu to task for getting married to her older salary man boyfriend because she felt sorry for him. She also
quizzed Nasu about her ring and how much it cost, seemingly bent on humiliating the Kyouran mura rythym section in public. However, when I quizzed them about this after the show, they just shrugged and said it was all part of the show.
The vocals are obviously 50% of the Kyouran mura sound and I can't always figure out what Uchu-san is on about. One song basically consists of her chanting "I don't need pot" (”はっぱは要らない!”) over and over again. (Might help you chill out! Just sayin'...) while another one consists of her apologizing to family members. Her vocal styling runs from straight up yelling to something more like the warbly crying of traditional Japanese music.
This youtube clip (from their regular joint at Muryoku Muzenji in Koenji) doesn't do them justice, but you get the basic idea.
What: Minimal girl punk duo
Well?
Kyouran mura translates to something like "Village of madness", and I personally think this duo of the oddly stage-named Uchu-san (lit. Ms. Outerspace) and Nasu-san (lit. Ms. Eggplant) are closer to madness than a lot of other willfully "odd" Japanese acts.
Nasu-san handles the drumming with an unschooled primitivism rarely found among Tokyo musicians. Over her hectic tom rolls, Uchu-san yells lyrics from the depths of despair only an overworked school administrator can know. There's nothing cute about this duo, and I'm happy to apply the over-used term "raw" to describe them.
There is a strange tension between the spiky Uchu-san and the amiable Nasu-san, which is one of the few things about their act which does seem to be managed. At one gig, Uchu spent a few uncomfortable minutes taking Nasu to task for getting married to her older salary man boyfriend because she felt sorry for him. She also
quizzed Nasu about her ring and how much it cost, seemingly bent on humiliating the Kyouran mura rythym section in public. However, when I quizzed them about this after the show, they just shrugged and said it was all part of the show.
The vocals are obviously 50% of the Kyouran mura sound and I can't always figure out what Uchu-san is on about. One song basically consists of her chanting "I don't need pot" (”はっぱは要らない!”) over and over again. (Might help you chill out! Just sayin'...) while another one consists of her apologizing to family members. Her vocal styling runs from straight up yelling to something more like the warbly crying of traditional Japanese music.
This youtube clip (from their regular joint at Muryoku Muzenji in Koenji) doesn't do them justice, but you get the basic idea.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
河野円 （Madoka Kono）
Who: Madoka Kono (河野円)
What: Tape player feedback
Web: http://www012.upp.so-net.ne.jp/i_ma_wav/top.html
Well?
Madoka Kono is my favourite performer amongst the new batch of "Improvised Music from Japan" schoolers. At its simplest, her performance is two empty walkmen, plugged into a behringer mixer, and jammed on record/playback mode. The position of the tapeplayers relative to each other and the speakers then creates a reverby feedback loop with a rhythm provided by the stuttering of the locked walkman motors. It's a simple setup with a complex sounding result.
Lately she's added more elements to her supremely minimal setup: up to two metronomes and two additional tape players. At first I was concerned that these additions detracted from the purity of her concept without adding anything compelling to the sound. However, I was recently lucky enough to see her play such a "maximalist" set at enban and it was very good. The extra tape players created a drone controlled by their proximity to the empty walkmen, and the metronomes, used very sparingly and at their slowest tempo, created interruptions in the feedback which periodically reset the sound allowing the feedback to reestablish itself in unpredictable ways. Even the metronome bell was used to great effect: the line between the sound of the bell and the consequent feedback was blurred creating an intriguing illusion of a prolonged chime.
Madoka describes what she's trying to do better than me here.
What: Tape player feedback
Web: http://www012.upp.so-net.ne.jp/i_ma_wav/top.html
Well?
Madoka Kono is my favourite performer amongst the new batch of "Improvised Music from Japan" schoolers. At its simplest, her performance is two empty walkmen, plugged into a behringer mixer, and jammed on record/playback mode. The position of the tapeplayers relative to each other and the speakers then creates a reverby feedback loop with a rhythm provided by the stuttering of the locked walkman motors. It's a simple setup with a complex sounding result.
Lately she's added more elements to her supremely minimal setup: up to two metronomes and two additional tape players. At first I was concerned that these additions detracted from the purity of her concept without adding anything compelling to the sound. However, I was recently lucky enough to see her play such a "maximalist" set at enban and it was very good. The extra tape players created a drone controlled by their proximity to the empty walkmen, and the metronomes, used very sparingly and at their slowest tempo, created interruptions in the feedback which periodically reset the sound allowing the feedback to reestablish itself in unpredictable ways. Even the metronome bell was used to great effect: the line between the sound of the bell and the consequent feedback was blurred creating an intriguing illusion of a prolonged chime.
Madoka describes what she's trying to do better than me here.
Friday, March 18, 2011
Lists #2: First five records listened to post-earthquake
Haven't been much in the mood for music in the last week. Too much news to filter, or rather, too much John Cage music to listen to. If you know what I mean.
Anyway, this morning, we decided to clean up the house a bit.
(Sample of the conversation:
Me: There's been a huge disaster. What's the point of cleaning the house?
I.: Let's clean up the house! )
When cleaning, music isn't optional, so I had to decide what to listen to.
#1: Charles Wuorinen, Time's encomium (Nonesuch)
Great piece of earlyish electronic music (the composer was born in 1938).
I love old computer/synthesizer music by composer boffins. Particularly on vinyl.
Somehow seems a bit steampunk.
#2: Television, Marquee Moon (Warner/Pioneer)
Started this on the B-side which is odd for me, but I had "Elevation" in my head. I used to think that he was singing "Television, don't go to my head" and that this song was the Television theme song. Eventually, I guess I looked at the title of the song. K.D. told me I should listen to this a long time ago, but I only really got into it when I. copied me the CD about 4 years ago. Nice to have it on record.
#3: Autechre, Ep 7.1 (Warp)
On record it's broken into to LPs, 7.1 being the first. My second fave Autechre record after Confield.
#4: Gregory Issacs, The Early Years (Compilation on Trojan)
"Sinner Man" is a great song. RIP Mr Issacs.
#5: Flying Saucer Attack, Distance (Domino)
Started on side 2. Skipped straight to "December Mist".
It's been a long time since I listened to it... it's hard to describe how
good this song is. "Good" isn't even the right word. Imagine sticking your head into a portal, maybe some kind of diver's helmet. Through the grimy visor, you can see and hear a murky, distant world.
Anyway, this morning, we decided to clean up the house a bit.
(Sample of the conversation:
Me: There's been a huge disaster. What's the point of cleaning the house?
I.: Let's clean up the house! )
When cleaning, music isn't optional, so I had to decide what to listen to.
#1: Charles Wuorinen, Time's encomium (Nonesuch)
Great piece of earlyish electronic music (the composer was born in 1938).
I love old computer/synthesizer music by composer boffins. Particularly on vinyl.
Somehow seems a bit steampunk.
#2: Television, Marquee Moon (Warner/Pioneer)
Started this on the B-side which is odd for me, but I had "Elevation" in my head. I used to think that he was singing "Television, don't go to my head" and that this song was the Television theme song. Eventually, I guess I looked at the title of the song. K.D. told me I should listen to this a long time ago, but I only really got into it when I. copied me the CD about 4 years ago. Nice to have it on record.
#3: Autechre, Ep 7.1 (Warp)
On record it's broken into to LPs, 7.1 being the first. My second fave Autechre record after Confield.
#4: Gregory Issacs, The Early Years (Compilation on Trojan)
"Sinner Man" is a great song. RIP Mr Issacs.
#5: Flying Saucer Attack, Distance (Domino)
Started on side 2. Skipped straight to "December Mist".
It's been a long time since I listened to it... it's hard to describe how
good this song is. "Good" isn't even the right word. Imagine sticking your head into a portal, maybe some kind of diver's helmet. Through the grimy visor, you can see and hear a murky, distant world.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Lists #1: Three websites for hysterical relatives
Several links for hysterical relatives to check so that they can see radiation montoring, etc (in Japanese, but better than nothing) ;)
1. http://doko.in/micro/ - Daily 24 hour radiation monoitoring of each major area in Japan. It's in Japanese so look for 東京都(新宿区) = Tokyo metropolis(Shinjuku ward) .
As of yesterday Tokyo is a flat line at around the background level
2. http://www.aist.go.jp/taisaku/ja/measurement/ - In Tsukuba (just north of Tokyo) , AIST (home of some nifty superconductor experiments) has a disaster prevention centre which posts hourly updates of the radiation measured there. Updates are a bit slow.
3. http://www3.nhk.or.jp/nhkworld/ - English news from a Japanese perspective
They may not spend as much time as western media covering the reactors, as they also have the task of covering the human misery caused by the tsunami.
Also, how about those amazing plant workers who are sacrificing their lives (if not immediately than probably from radiation sickness) to try to save their country from a second nuclear calamity (if I may group Hiroshima and Nagasaki). Amazing people.
Peace.
1. http://doko.in/micro/ - Daily 24 hour radiation monoitoring of each major area in Japan. It's in Japanese so look for 東京都(新宿区) = Tokyo metropolis(Shinjuku ward) .
As of yesterday Tokyo is a flat line at around the background level
2. http://www.aist.go.jp/taisaku/ja/measurement/ - In Tsukuba (just north of Tokyo) , AIST (home of some nifty superconductor experiments) has a disaster prevention centre which posts hourly updates of the radiation measured there. Updates are a bit slow.
3. http://www3.nhk.or.jp/nhkworld/ - English news from a Japanese perspective
They may not spend as much time as western media covering the reactors, as they also have the task of covering the human misery caused by the tsunami.
Also, how about those amazing plant workers who are sacrificing their lives (if not immediately than probably from radiation sickness) to try to save their country from a second nuclear calamity (if I may group Hiroshima and Nagasaki). Amazing people.
Peace.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Special #1: Our love will destroy the world @ Ikenoue Gari Gari
What: O.L.W.D.T.W, Suzuki Junzo, Cal Lyal vs. Tomo, Ezra Woolnough & Dave McMahon duo
When: Sunday 13th March
Thought that I'd do an occasional entry on a whole concert. Two days after touching down in Tokyo on 3/11, only to be greeted by Japan's largest earthquake since records began, Campbell Kneale played at one of Tokyo's shonkiest (in the most awesome sense of the word) character bars - Gari Gari in Ikenoue. Everyone was still nervy after Friday's quake, which made Gari Gari seem an odd place to put on a gig to me at first. Gari Gari has a flimsy look to it - a plywood shack created in a Tokyo basement. However, the genius of a post-earthquake gig at Gari Gari is that the floor is already so bouncy, that aftershocks can't be distinguished from people walking around.
Junzo Suzuki was up first with a solo noise-guitar set. It was deep, thick and nasty, appropriately like a force of nature, and one of the best things that I've seen him do.
Then Ezra and Dave (who often play at Gari Gari with Cal Lyall as Jahiliyyah) pulled out the single best thing I've seen them do - a cold ambient set with tinges of new age.
Tokyo's first Gaijin of noise Cal Lyall (or second perhaps, if you count Jim O'Rourke) and Tomo pulled back from the loud drone they practice with a drummer as Tetragrammaton. It was a choppy set of acoustic guitar and hurdy gurdy, which really took off when Cal started bowing his guitar.
Finally, Our Love Will Destroy The World topped off a night of surprising restraint with a set of utter excess. Campbell Kneale has reinvented his sound again, and it's great. Starting with duelling Tabla beats, Campbell whipped up a frenzy playing his guitar through what is possibly the best guitar pedal I have ever heard. The set ended with sounds straight out of Bad Comany's "The nine", which finally faded into some killer choral music. It was an ecstatic mash-up, and it worked perfectly.
When: Sunday 13th March
Thought that I'd do an occasional entry on a whole concert. Two days after touching down in Tokyo on 3/11, only to be greeted by Japan's largest earthquake since records began, Campbell Kneale played at one of Tokyo's shonkiest (in the most awesome sense of the word) character bars - Gari Gari in Ikenoue. Everyone was still nervy after Friday's quake, which made Gari Gari seem an odd place to put on a gig to me at first. Gari Gari has a flimsy look to it - a plywood shack created in a Tokyo basement. However, the genius of a post-earthquake gig at Gari Gari is that the floor is already so bouncy, that aftershocks can't be distinguished from people walking around.
Junzo Suzuki was up first with a solo noise-guitar set. It was deep, thick and nasty, appropriately like a force of nature, and one of the best things that I've seen him do.
Then Ezra and Dave (who often play at Gari Gari with Cal Lyall as Jahiliyyah) pulled out the single best thing I've seen them do - a cold ambient set with tinges of new age.
Tokyo's first Gaijin of noise Cal Lyall (or second perhaps, if you count Jim O'Rourke) and Tomo pulled back from the loud drone they practice with a drummer as Tetragrammaton. It was a choppy set of acoustic guitar and hurdy gurdy, which really took off when Cal started bowing his guitar.
Finally, Our Love Will Destroy The World topped off a night of surprising restraint with a set of utter excess. Campbell Kneale has reinvented his sound again, and it's great. Starting with duelling Tabla beats, Campbell whipped up a frenzy playing his guitar through what is possibly the best guitar pedal I have ever heard. The set ended with sounds straight out of Bad Comany's "The nine", which finally faded into some killer choral music. It was an ecstatic mash-up, and it worked perfectly.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Diversions #2: A very large earthquake
I'm not sure if it's tasteful to write about today's huge earthquake from Tokyo, given that we were spared the brunt here while near the epicentre, Miyagi-ken was hammered. Given that people in Christchurch are still suffering too, my tales of a slightly inconvenienced Tokyo are probably unnecessary. But despite the lack of damage to most of Tokyo, this was a major quake even here.
On the 7th floor of the building where I work, Tokyo locals were saying that it was the largest earthquake they had ever felt. It was the first time I've felt compelled to slide under my desk during a quake, and also the first time a quake here has been treated with anything other than nonchalance by the Japanese people who I work with. A few days earlier my boss had assured me that our building was one of the strongest in the university - built with thicker concrete to keep vibrations as low as possible for the experiments, but images of the CTV building in Christchurch played through my mind as the shaking continued to get stronger and books started falling of the shelves.
After the quake stopped, and after the first few big aftershocks, I decided to go home to help I. clean up the house, where plates and glasses had apparently been smashed. (She didn't tell me that a large shelf had toppled over right where my head would have been if the earthquake had have happened while I was sleeping at night).
The phone system was overloaded and useless (still is some 6 hours later), but email was still working a treat. I managed to receive sms's, have gchats with numerous people and write a bunch of emails all in spite of the non-functional cell phone voice network. It sure is nice to be connected when disaster strikes.
The Keio line had stopped running, so to get home I had to trek the 15 kms from Chofu to Koenji - mostly up Koshu-kaido ave. one of the main routes from Shinjuku to West Tokyo. There were no signs of damage anywhere - the worst I saw on my hike up Koshu-kaido was a few broken tiles on an old house, and a single pane of broken glass in an apartment building. Some 40 minutes after the main quake, the security at a Pachinko parlour apologized to their evacuated patrons and started herding them back in to the building. Shops were open, although mostly empty of customers. People whispered that it hadn't been "the big one". Despite this normalcy,
small signs appeared that it was not a normal day. Large queues formed to use the toilets at convenience stores as people walking home got caught short. Chofu's surreal mass communication speaker system came online to convey a message so distant sounding and echo-laden, that I couldn't make out a word.
The effect on Tokyo's rail system was an almost total shutdown. Half way up Koshu-kaido, a trickle of people walking in the opposite direction turned into a torrent worthy of Shinjuku station. Roads that were usually free of pedestrians were clogged with them particularly if they corresponded to train routes (Koshu-kaido follows the Keio line, Inokashira-dori follows the Keio-inokashira line; both where thronging like Centre-gai on Friday night). Some people wore hard hats which made me feel nervous (and slightly jealous that their companies valued them enough to provide them with protective head-gear!).
After three hours, I finally made it to Meidaimae and picked up my bike, which had a flat tyre. After pumping it up at a police station, it took me another 40 minutes to finally get home.
Apart from a nasty refinery fire and a collapsed roof in a mall, it looks like Tokyo escaped relatively unscathed this time. Tokyo locals fully expect the Kanto region to receive massive damage in an earthquake in the next 30 years though, so the respite this time is more cause for nervousness than relief. The aftershocks (coming once every 20 minutes at the moment) will probably cause some trouble for the trains over the following weeks. Still, after seeing footage of the Tsunami enveloping broad swathes of land in Miyagi-ken, thinking of the numerous dead in the latest earthquake to hit China, not to mention the unimaginable awfulness of Christchurch, I can't help but feel pretty lucky right now.
Added 3/12: I remembered that one awful part about my walk home was how crazy it seemed to make some people. The worst thing I've seen with my own eyes by far in Tokyo after the quake was a driver speeding through an intersection after the light turned red and nearly ploughing into a woman crossing the road. I've never seen such appalling driving before in Tokyo. I also remember an old man clutching a post on the pavement as a tide of people flowed past. I wondered who would help him. (My own pathetic excuse was that I was going the opposite way, and I doubt an Ojiisan would understand my funny sounding Japanese). A lot of other old people must have been lost and scared in the confusion.
On the bright side, Ganesha curry house is still standing despite being one of the flimsiest looking wooden stalls in Harmonica-street in Kichijoji.
Lastly, please excuse the lack of links; pretty bad form in a blog, but there doesn't seem like much point at the moment. And we've all seen enough tsunami porn already, right?
On the 7th floor of the building where I work, Tokyo locals were saying that it was the largest earthquake they had ever felt. It was the first time I've felt compelled to slide under my desk during a quake, and also the first time a quake here has been treated with anything other than nonchalance by the Japanese people who I work with. A few days earlier my boss had assured me that our building was one of the strongest in the university - built with thicker concrete to keep vibrations as low as possible for the experiments, but images of the CTV building in Christchurch played through my mind as the shaking continued to get stronger and books started falling of the shelves.
After the quake stopped, and after the first few big aftershocks, I decided to go home to help I. clean up the house, where plates and glasses had apparently been smashed. (She didn't tell me that a large shelf had toppled over right where my head would have been if the earthquake had have happened while I was sleeping at night).
The phone system was overloaded and useless (still is some 6 hours later), but email was still working a treat. I managed to receive sms's, have gchats with numerous people and write a bunch of emails all in spite of the non-functional cell phone voice network. It sure is nice to be connected when disaster strikes.
The Keio line had stopped running, so to get home I had to trek the 15 kms from Chofu to Koenji - mostly up Koshu-kaido ave. one of the main routes from Shinjuku to West Tokyo. There were no signs of damage anywhere - the worst I saw on my hike up Koshu-kaido was a few broken tiles on an old house, and a single pane of broken glass in an apartment building. Some 40 minutes after the main quake, the security at a Pachinko parlour apologized to their evacuated patrons and started herding them back in to the building. Shops were open, although mostly empty of customers. People whispered that it hadn't been "the big one". Despite this normalcy,
small signs appeared that it was not a normal day. Large queues formed to use the toilets at convenience stores as people walking home got caught short. Chofu's surreal mass communication speaker system came online to convey a message so distant sounding and echo-laden, that I couldn't make out a word.
The effect on Tokyo's rail system was an almost total shutdown. Half way up Koshu-kaido, a trickle of people walking in the opposite direction turned into a torrent worthy of Shinjuku station. Roads that were usually free of pedestrians were clogged with them particularly if they corresponded to train routes (Koshu-kaido follows the Keio line, Inokashira-dori follows the Keio-inokashira line; both where thronging like Centre-gai on Friday night). Some people wore hard hats which made me feel nervous (and slightly jealous that their companies valued them enough to provide them with protective head-gear!).
After three hours, I finally made it to Meidaimae and picked up my bike, which had a flat tyre. After pumping it up at a police station, it took me another 40 minutes to finally get home.
Apart from a nasty refinery fire and a collapsed roof in a mall, it looks like Tokyo escaped relatively unscathed this time. Tokyo locals fully expect the Kanto region to receive massive damage in an earthquake in the next 30 years though, so the respite this time is more cause for nervousness than relief. The aftershocks (coming once every 20 minutes at the moment) will probably cause some trouble for the trains over the following weeks. Still, after seeing footage of the Tsunami enveloping broad swathes of land in Miyagi-ken, thinking of the numerous dead in the latest earthquake to hit China, not to mention the unimaginable awfulness of Christchurch, I can't help but feel pretty lucky right now.
Added 3/12: I remembered that one awful part about my walk home was how crazy it seemed to make some people. The worst thing I've seen with my own eyes by far in Tokyo after the quake was a driver speeding through an intersection after the light turned red and nearly ploughing into a woman crossing the road. I've never seen such appalling driving before in Tokyo. I also remember an old man clutching a post on the pavement as a tide of people flowed past. I wondered who would help him. (My own pathetic excuse was that I was going the opposite way, and I doubt an Ojiisan would understand my funny sounding Japanese). A lot of other old people must have been lost and scared in the confusion.
On the bright side, Ganesha curry house is still standing despite being one of the flimsiest looking wooden stalls in Harmonica-street in Kichijoji.
Lastly, please excuse the lack of links; pretty bad form in a blog, but there doesn't seem like much point at the moment. And we've all seen enough tsunami porn already, right?
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Vegetus
Who: Vegetus is the solo project of 富樫てっぺい (Teppei Togashi)
What: Noise
Link: Vegetus myspace
Well?
In terms of buzz, it might be better to focus more on Teppei's duo with Amano Takuya オゼ (which they spell "Oser" in English, but is phonetically closer to "o-ze").
That duo has been playing some excellent gigs in Tokyo of late - see here for Working Towards blogs handy video of a gig I missed - and are even in line to be released on a PSF Tokyo flashback CD - approval from the old guard! In my opinion, although I'm sure Teppei wouldn't be so rude as to agree with me, Oze is managing to save Japan noise music from the increasingly stodgy old guard.
Vegetus, Teppei's solo project, is also a noise project of great listenability which for me is a welcome replacement for Merzbow (who didn't thrill me either of the two times I've seen him live) or any of the numerous pedal-noise acts I've seen in Tokyo in the last four years. What's more, Vegetus is just as vegan as the original shogun of noise, dances a lot better, and is a generally warm person.
Some might argue that in decades past, Japan's society was more stifling than what it has become, and that people like Keiji Haino and Masami Akita needed to have a tough exterior to exist on the fringes of such a strict culture. Perhaps approachability is just a luxury the slowly relaxing Japan of today didn't afford the first wave of noise musicians. Nonetheless, it's a welcome characteristic.
Here's a video where Vegetus projects noise from a balcony overlooking a lake.
What: Noise
Link: Vegetus myspace
Well?
In terms of buzz, it might be better to focus more on Teppei's duo with Amano Takuya オゼ (which they spell "Oser" in English, but is phonetically closer to "o-ze").
That duo has been playing some excellent gigs in Tokyo of late - see here for Working Towards blogs handy video of a gig I missed - and are even in line to be released on a PSF Tokyo flashback CD - approval from the old guard! In my opinion, although I'm sure Teppei wouldn't be so rude as to agree with me, Oze is managing to save Japan noise music from the increasingly stodgy old guard.
Vegetus, Teppei's solo project, is also a noise project of great listenability which for me is a welcome replacement for Merzbow (who didn't thrill me either of the two times I've seen him live) or any of the numerous pedal-noise acts I've seen in Tokyo in the last four years. What's more, Vegetus is just as vegan as the original shogun of noise, dances a lot better, and is a generally warm person.
Some might argue that in decades past, Japan's society was more stifling than what it has become, and that people like Keiji Haino and Masami Akita needed to have a tough exterior to exist on the fringes of such a strict culture. Perhaps approachability is just a luxury the slowly relaxing Japan of today didn't afford the first wave of noise musicians. Nonetheless, it's a welcome characteristic.
Here's a video where Vegetus projects noise from a balcony overlooking a lake.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Diversions #1: Deep Osaka
(Ocasionally, when the urge strikes me, I'll write about Japan things that aren't musical Japan things. It's a diversion from the main theme of this blog, hence the label).
I ended up in Osaka this weekend as part of an 円盤出張 (Enban shutchou). This literally means "Enban-business-trip", but there was no "business" involved, unless you count the poorly attended gig (it was snowing hard for the first time in a while, which confused the Osakans a bit, I think). The gig itself is not what I want to write about, although it was located at the famous Bears club (no, not that kind of bears club: although I am a little on the hairy side, I'm leather averse...) where the Boredoms honed their dada.
Instead I wanted to note that it is the first time in three or four trips to Osaka that I felt like I had located the fabled "Deep Osaka" experience. One of the things that I think people don't realize about Japan, or don't fully appreciate if they pay a brief visit, is how a number of parts of Japan's big cities are what we would call "run-down". In reality, they're just parts that haven't been touched by money since the 80's boom, and are victims of the Japanese propensity to build structurally sound but superficially flimsy buildings. There's still enough money sloshing around in the world's third biggest economy to trim such rough edges, but thankfully it's either not a priority or the inhabitants actively resist it.
This confluence of factors results in certain areas of Tokyo and Osaka in particular being full of shabby buildings with wonky facades. If a Japanese 商店街 (shoutengai) or shopping street also exists in such an area, you have all the ingredients for a decaying fairground kind of feeling, which lovers of 千と千尋の神隠し(sen to chihiro no kamikakushi = "Spirited away") are unable to resist. The 動物園前 (Dobutsuenmae = literally "infront of the Zoological park" ) area of Osaka has this feeling in spades. It even has a literally decaying theme park - complete with a partially demolished roller coaster - in the notorious Shin-sekai area. That's right - the Shin-sekai area is actually "notorious". I'm skeptical about that word being used to describe any area in Japan - in reality, almost anywhere in Japan feels safer than big city America or the like. Nonetheless, I did feel an odd an odd sense of seediness which I have almost never detected before in Japan when I was walking around the network of covered shopping streets in doubutsuen-mae just south of shin-sekai. One particularly dilapidated branch off the main street had a canvas roof which had been ripped to shreds, an excellent complement to the oh-so shabby snacks and karaoke bars that lined the road. Although I've never been to the day workers' district of San'ya in Tokyo, I imagined that this was what it would feel like.
Sure enough, in a NY Times article that does a much better job of explaining the area than this post, I found mention that it is indeed close to the Osaka day labourer town. Despite the close proximity to very cheap business hotels and even a rare youth hostel, I didn't see a single other foreigner in the shopping streets of Dobutsuen-mae. I can only ascribe this to the exagerated bad reputation of the are conveyed by travel guides - thanks lonely planet!
The above-mentioned Shin-sekai (新世界 = new world = ironically named area) to the north of Dobutsuenmae contains a number of seedy shopping streets (as well as some great looking restaurants) and the marvellous jan-jan alley (じゃんじゃん 横丁), where you can see old men play shogi and go in clubs, and other locals lining up outside old ramen shops. The centerpiece of the area - the famous 通天閣 (tsutenkaku) tower - looks like a half built Eiffel tower with an aluminium box perched on top. Seriously, the windows made me think of the very cheapest aluminium ranch-sliders you'd find in old baches back home.
Talking with some locals over okonomiyaki (the waitress had the most amazing mayonnaise squirting skills I have ever seen; no I'm not being dirty) confirmed that I had indeed encountered "Deep Osaka" and not merely the Tokyo or America imitating areas closer to Osaka station. Enban boss Taguchi-san said that he used to stay in the area when he visited Osaka, and that you can often see young Yakuza standing on street corners at night ready to send warning if the police appear.
All in all, I can't recommend the area enough if you want to see a slice of real Japanese city life. I've heard these parts of Osaka compared with Tokyo's Asakusa, Kichijoji's harmonica yokocho and even Koenji, and while comparisons with the chuo-line area of Tokyo are apt, Dobutsuenmae and surrounds had a more dense, exciting feel to me. As an additional plus, it's only a 10 minute walk from Dobutsuenmae, through Shin-sekai to the Osaka version of Akihabara - the awesome Denden town.
I ended up in Osaka this weekend as part of an 円盤出張 (Enban shutchou). This literally means "Enban-business-trip", but there was no "business" involved, unless you count the poorly attended gig (it was snowing hard for the first time in a while, which confused the Osakans a bit, I think). The gig itself is not what I want to write about, although it was located at the famous Bears club (no, not that kind of bears club: although I am a little on the hairy side, I'm leather averse...) where the Boredoms honed their dada.
Instead I wanted to note that it is the first time in three or four trips to Osaka that I felt like I had located the fabled "Deep Osaka" experience. One of the things that I think people don't realize about Japan, or don't fully appreciate if they pay a brief visit, is how a number of parts of Japan's big cities are what we would call "run-down". In reality, they're just parts that haven't been touched by money since the 80's boom, and are victims of the Japanese propensity to build structurally sound but superficially flimsy buildings. There's still enough money sloshing around in the world's third biggest economy to trim such rough edges, but thankfully it's either not a priority or the inhabitants actively resist it.
This confluence of factors results in certain areas of Tokyo and Osaka in particular being full of shabby buildings with wonky facades. If a Japanese 商店街 (shoutengai) or shopping street also exists in such an area, you have all the ingredients for a decaying fairground kind of feeling, which lovers of 千と千尋の神隠し(sen to chihiro no kamikakushi = "Spirited away") are unable to resist. The 動物園前 (Dobutsuenmae = literally "infront of the Zoological park" ) area of Osaka has this feeling in spades. It even has a literally decaying theme park - complete with a partially demolished roller coaster - in the notorious Shin-sekai area. That's right - the Shin-sekai area is actually "notorious". I'm skeptical about that word being used to describe any area in Japan - in reality, almost anywhere in Japan feels safer than big city America or the like. Nonetheless, I did feel an odd an odd sense of seediness which I have almost never detected before in Japan when I was walking around the network of covered shopping streets in doubutsuen-mae just south of shin-sekai. One particularly dilapidated branch off the main street had a canvas roof which had been ripped to shreds, an excellent complement to the oh-so shabby snacks and karaoke bars that lined the road. Although I've never been to the day workers' district of San'ya in Tokyo, I imagined that this was what it would feel like.
Sure enough, in a NY Times article that does a much better job of explaining the area than this post, I found mention that it is indeed close to the Osaka day labourer town. Despite the close proximity to very cheap business hotels and even a rare youth hostel, I didn't see a single other foreigner in the shopping streets of Dobutsuen-mae. I can only ascribe this to the exagerated bad reputation of the are conveyed by travel guides - thanks lonely planet!
The above-mentioned Shin-sekai (新世界 = new world = ironically named area) to the north of Dobutsuenmae contains a number of seedy shopping streets (as well as some great looking restaurants) and the marvellous jan-jan alley (じゃんじゃん 横丁), where you can see old men play shogi and go in clubs, and other locals lining up outside old ramen shops. The centerpiece of the area - the famous 通天閣 (tsutenkaku) tower - looks like a half built Eiffel tower with an aluminium box perched on top. Seriously, the windows made me think of the very cheapest aluminium ranch-sliders you'd find in old baches back home.
Talking with some locals over okonomiyaki (the waitress had the most amazing mayonnaise squirting skills I have ever seen; no I'm not being dirty) confirmed that I had indeed encountered "Deep Osaka" and not merely the Tokyo or America imitating areas closer to Osaka station. Enban boss Taguchi-san said that he used to stay in the area when he visited Osaka, and that you can often see young Yakuza standing on street corners at night ready to send warning if the police appear.
All in all, I can't recommend the area enough if you want to see a slice of real Japanese city life. I've heard these parts of Osaka compared with Tokyo's Asakusa, Kichijoji's harmonica yokocho and even Koenji, and while comparisons with the chuo-line area of Tokyo are apt, Dobutsuenmae and surrounds had a more dense, exciting feel to me. As an additional plus, it's only a 10 minute walk from Dobutsuenmae, through Shin-sekai to the Osaka version of Akihabara - the awesome Denden town.
Posuposu
Who: Posuposu Otani (ポスポス大谷）
)
What: Accordian and throat singing
Link: Posuposu myspace
Well? :
I'm sure some people read the words "throat singing" and immediately tune out which is fair enough. It had its time as a kind of world music fad, and maybe one too many hippies learnt the technique and wore it out.
But give posuposu a chance: for the most part he uses his throat singing powers sparely and for good not evil. In one of his many eccentric touches, he will usually say the word "posuposu" before he launches into a throat-singing chorus so you always have ample warning. His normal singing voice is also pretty odd, and he's been known to break out a Jews harp, so if you're not a fan of warbling, you might not have much respite.
Posuposu's songs' subject matter is various, but often centers on UFOs. In my personal favourite posuposu song, he exhorts aliens to show him how to use their mysterious powers. He also has a fondness for puns as he explains (in English) at the start of this youtube clip. (The clip is from a performance at Koenji's 無力無善寺 (mu-ryoku muzenji) live house last year).
Posuposu is my favourite kind of eccentric: he takes a bunch of disparate things that he enjoys and throws them together in his performances. There is no hint of put-on oddness which is what sometimes passes for experimental in Tokyo.
)
What: Accordian and throat singing
Link: Posuposu myspace
Well? :
I'm sure some people read the words "throat singing" and immediately tune out which is fair enough. It had its time as a kind of world music fad, and maybe one too many hippies learnt the technique and wore it out.
But give posuposu a chance: for the most part he uses his throat singing powers sparely and for good not evil. In one of his many eccentric touches, he will usually say the word "posuposu" before he launches into a throat-singing chorus so you always have ample warning. His normal singing voice is also pretty odd, and he's been known to break out a Jews harp, so if you're not a fan of warbling, you might not have much respite.
Posuposu's songs' subject matter is various, but often centers on UFOs. In my personal favourite posuposu song, he exhorts aliens to show him how to use their mysterious powers. He also has a fondness for puns as he explains (in English) at the start of this youtube clip. (The clip is from a performance at Koenji's 無力無善寺 (mu-ryoku muzenji) live house last year).
Posuposu is my favourite kind of eccentric: he takes a bunch of disparate things that he enjoys and throws them together in his performances. There is no hint of put-on oddness which is what sometimes passes for experimental in Tokyo.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
ju sei
Who: Sei and Jun-ichirou Tanaka(田中淳一郎)
What: Avant "pop"
Web: ju sei's webpage
Well?:
From my outsider perspective, ju sei are the "it" duo of Tokyo improv/weirdo music at the moment. Their music is a combination of pop, genuine improvisation, electronica and just plain oddness, although it always feels well thought out. Jun holds down the fort with his tightly controlled guitar and effects constructions and Sei brings the alien charm, her vocals anchored by a precise pop delivery, but often careening off into screaming, squealing, or Ami Yoshida-esque frothiness. The ju sei set-list includes enough straight up sing-along hits to keep the average listener happy, while the weird detours have the Tokyo noise hipsters nodding subtly in appreciation.
One interesting part of ju sei's recent story (they've been making music for the better part of 10 years I believe) is how the attention of a foreigner in Tokyo - the remarkable Mr Anthony Guerra - helped bring them to greater prominence, at least in the Tokyo odd music scene. Anthony's black petal label (see the link from his name) is still only place to get an official ju sei release (although Enban has released a DVD of all of their instore performances). According to ju sei's web page, a new album will finally be available this spring.
Sei and Jun have a variety of side projects including shining rice (ju sei + Anthony Guerra), Chikara (a Jun-lead ensemble with an ever changing line-up), and Sei can be found MCing in her cold, formal Japanese announcer style (imagine an announcement on the shinkansen) at many an Enban linked event. As a duo, they have also been performing with 宇波拓(Taku Unami)'s absurd lounge act Hose a lot recently.
Unfotunately, it's hard to track down any ju sei perfomances on-line, probably partially because the word ju sei has a few dramatic meanings in Japanese ("gunshot", "brutality", "multiple stars" !) so it's relatively common as a tag on the web. If you know of any videos, let me know and I'll link to them here.
What: Avant "pop"
Web: ju sei's webpage
Well?:
From my outsider perspective, ju sei are the "it" duo of Tokyo improv/weirdo music at the moment. Their music is a combination of pop, genuine improvisation, electronica and just plain oddness, although it always feels well thought out. Jun holds down the fort with his tightly controlled guitar and effects constructions and Sei brings the alien charm, her vocals anchored by a precise pop delivery, but often careening off into screaming, squealing, or Ami Yoshida-esque frothiness. The ju sei set-list includes enough straight up sing-along hits to keep the average listener happy, while the weird detours have the Tokyo noise hipsters nodding subtly in appreciation.
One interesting part of ju sei's recent story (they've been making music for the better part of 10 years I believe) is how the attention of a foreigner in Tokyo - the remarkable Mr Anthony Guerra - helped bring them to greater prominence, at least in the Tokyo odd music scene. Anthony's black petal label (see the link from his name) is still only place to get an official ju sei release (although Enban has released a DVD of all of their instore performances). According to ju sei's web page, a new album will finally be available this spring.
Sei and Jun have a variety of side projects including shining rice (ju sei + Anthony Guerra), Chikara (a Jun-lead ensemble with an ever changing line-up), and Sei can be found MCing in her cold, formal Japanese announcer style (imagine an announcement on the shinkansen) at many an Enban linked event. As a duo, they have also been performing with 宇波拓(Taku Unami)'s absurd lounge act Hose a lot recently.
Unfotunately, it's hard to track down any ju sei perfomances on-line, probably partially because the word ju sei has a few dramatic meanings in Japanese ("gunshot", "brutality", "multiple stars" !) so it's relatively common as a tag on the web. If you know of any videos, let me know and I'll link to them here.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
ジョン（犬）(Jon the dog)
What: Jon the dog = Solo organ and vocals
Link: Jon the dog webpage (Japanese)
Well?:
The most noticeable aspect of a Jon the dog performance is that the performer is dressed in a giant (and scary) dog costume. This shouldn't be taken to mean that the project is a gimmick; Jon's music is compelling by itself. But the dog suit definitely adds something important - a surrealness that helps the music along.
Enban boss Taguchi-san once told me that all of Jon the dog's songs are about the life of a dog. However, "男の世界" (Otoko no sekai = "A man's world") could just as well be about sexual politics, at least according to my limited understanding of the lyrics.
Aside from the music, Ms. Jon leads an interesting life as a fortune teller and a proprietor of a bar in Golden Gai (unfortunately she doesn't wear the dog suit when serving drinks).
Link: Jon the dog webpage (Japanese)
Well?:
The most noticeable aspect of a Jon the dog performance is that the performer is dressed in a giant (and scary) dog costume. This shouldn't be taken to mean that the project is a gimmick; Jon's music is compelling by itself. But the dog suit definitely adds something important - a surrealness that helps the music along.
Enban boss Taguchi-san once told me that all of Jon the dog's songs are about the life of a dog. However, "男の世界" (Otoko no sekai = "A man's world") could just as well be about sexual politics, at least according to my limited understanding of the lyrics.
Aside from the music, Ms. Jon leads an interesting life as a fortune teller and a proprietor of a bar in Golden Gai (unfortunately she doesn't wear the dog suit when serving drinks).
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