“Please stand in line. Like this.” Our first contact with Japanese culture is at Hanoi airport, as the stewardess from Japan Airways is politely trying to unravel the chaotic cluster of people before boarding the airplane. It shouldn’t be the last line we’re queueing in the following weeks. Coming from Europe (and even more now from Vietnam), we feel like brutes disrupting everyone with any action we take. Japanese people are meek, traffic is quiet, public transport is fast, reliable and also very quiet. Every know and then you hear a nice calming jingle reminding you that train doors are about to close. In stores you can always listen to light jazz or classical music. There is no shouting, no unnecessary noise, no annoying beeping whatsoever.
In Tokyo, the largest city on earth, people commute mostly by public transport and bicycles. If someone is using a car though, they would never even think of parking it on the street. Why would you clutter public space with your private belongings? So, when you’re walking through any Japanese city, streets look wide open with a lot of space for everyone.
After praising this tranquility, we also experienced quite the opposite on our second day in Tokyo. While walking our neighbourhood, we stumbled into one of the most important traditional festivals at the Asakusa shrine: Sanja Matsuri. Main attraction of this Shinto festival are portable shrines that are carried through the district over one weekend. Women and men are shouting and chanting, while shaking and bouncing the shrines vigorously to intensify their power. Furthermore, you will listen to flutes and traditional Japanese drums playing. The atmosphere is energetic, and the people are so ecstatic, as I never encountered it anywhere else in Japan.
A bit more intimate was my first collaboration here. I improvised with percussionist Naoto Yamagishi in the woods of Saitama among shiitake mushrooms. How do I know him, you might ask – and that’s one of the most wonderful parts about our journey around the world. Liz, from the music box project in Sydney, who I got to know through Naomi, gave me Richard’s contact in Canberra. He came to my concert there and after a lovely talk, Richard recommended me to reach out to Naoto in Japan. So, one day in May the three of us are sitting in Naoto’s minivan on our way to Yamaneko-ken, a cabin in the woods that serves as a café, gallery, and concert venue. I love meeting people and getting to know them through improvising together. We played much more than we actually talked to each other, but through our music we truly connected that day.
The next day brought the next collaboration in Tokyo. Platypus founding member Ryuta Iwase organised a concert with the Circuit Club. Not only are we playing bass clarinet duos together, but also are we premiering a trio with double bass written by Haruyuki Suzuki. Our rehearsals had a special atmosphere to me, as the main language was Japanese, of course. With me, Haruyuki spoke English, Ryuta German, and in between all those languages, I was never perfectly sure, whether we were speaking about the same thing. Moreover, politeness is key, so anyone would just suggest an idea how the piece could benefit, but as you can’t say no, you must find a way to propose something different in case you disagree. In the end, everybody was feeling comfortable and happy – I think. We had a great concert at Tiara Koto hall concluding with a Korean BBQ, eating all sorts of innards while sitting next to a group of professional sumo ringers. Arigato gozaimasu for all these delightful experiences!
