We have three more shows to do in Tokyo, which would end the Japanese tour. It is rare for people to visit others in their homes in Japan, so this tour is a unique and infrequent occurrence to be able to perform in people’s closet spaces. The first week of the tour was difficult due to carrying luggage and equipment from hotel to train to taxi to gig and starting again the next day. Also, keep in mind that Japanese homes do have their restrictions and space issues.
I’m amazed that there are musicians who love life on the road, which, in my eyes, is a mixture of anxiety-driven boredom and being tied to a schedule where you must immediately be prepared for the next show in the next town. And it’s painful that one can’t spend an extra day in a city like Kyoto.
On the other hand, I love Japan, with all of its complex textures. One of my favorite writers is the late Donald Richie, who was the ultimate entranceway to Japanese culture - both in the pop and deep cultural sense and his ability to know the language. Still, even more important to me, he loved the role of being a foreigner in a country that is very conforming to whatever society is up to. He never felt pressured because he was a foreigner who lived there, so he didn’t have to live in someone else’s image but could maintain his independence. And I can do that as well if I do live here full-time. I’m a lone wolf by nature and never feel alienated by another culture. I accept it and find the grey areas where I can easily live and function.
About thirty years ago, I stayed in Tokyo for a month and spent most of the time studying Japanese in a classroom. I loved it. It was like going to work every day, where everyone knows I’m a Prince of the Bohemian set. But here, I had to show up on time and, with my limited Japanese, find my classroom, which they keep changing regularly. The building was three stories, and I had to go to the school reception desk and ask where the class was in Japanese. It kept me on my toes, and after class, I would go to the library in Meguro and study what I learned that morning. I had the whole day mapped out, including where to go to lunch, and I could practice ordering food for myself at a local restaurant.
My goal was to discuss Wittgenstein with a Japanese speaker, and I never reached that point. I know how to order hot coffee at a coffee shop, and I do that really well. Beyond that, it’s high-math to me, a total mystery. What distracted me was not learning Kanji; the Japanese use different numbering systems in their language, making my life difficult. They use a different vocabulary for counting chickens and glass-shaped coffee cups. Even a difference between a car and a truck. That is when, in my Prince Bohemian style, I gave up.
Thirty years later, skipping the Covid era, I visit Japan at least once or twice a year. I still don’t know the language, but something new is always on the horizon here in Japan. A new neighborhood, to me, can open up an endless horizon, and nothing closes down of interest, even when I go to Shibuya consistently. Something new is always happening in a neighborhood, but you have to look for it and do it with your eyes wide open and your brain set to scan the landscape. Jeff, the filmmaker we are working with, as we are doing a documentary here, has an app for ramen restaurants. He aims to eat ramen every day he’s here and at different places. That alone can open up an adventure that will not end. My journey here was to go to music shops, but now, I’m really into store signage from the Showa era. I love the graphic design of that era, where the sensibility of Japanese aesthetics meets the West.
Stanton
We can have sushi somewhere with your wife