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Viewing items with Tag: "music"
Well good morning lads and ladies, dearies and dudes, three-legged spelunkers and possessers of magical caves alike, perhaps even those of you who fit into both categories simultaneously...
I'm here today to tell you all about a kick ass show that went down in Osaka on April 29th (only 9 days after the auspiscious 4.20 and a ghastly 16 days after an equally ominous Fri. the 13th.) Fortunately however, the party was neither overcast nor sanguine (although just after dark there were some strange smelling clouds lingering above many of the stages, and I must say there was a time when the blood all rushed either too or from my brain either from or two my too front feet, hands, and other various extrememememities, though (un)fortunately at no point to (or from) my third leg on a magical spelunking expedition.
In a nutshell, the day went like this: Wake up at 8:30 after having discussed with MeestahJ the possiblity of getting there by the time the show starts at 10, in order not to miss out on any of the phenomenal music that was to be had, then the early morning realization that generally electronic DJs are not at their peak before nightfall, the fact that most event organizers know this and tend to put the rubes in early (no offense rubes) and of course the all too real existence of the few beers we had imbibed the evening before in preperation for the next days festivities, going back to sleep for another hour to ensure a strong and well rested body for a day of listening to mind searing jungle and bleary eyed, light headed, liquid trance; intense, molten lava hot hard techno; and fall-asleep-on-a cloud-in-the-driveway ambient; not too mention, of course, the drinking, dancing, and diddling (must not forget the 3 D's now shall we?) that we hoped lay in store for us behind the pearly white gates of Maishima Sports Island.
Then, the train ride to the Island, the hour or so of watching men and women in black suits with black teeth and black hearts wishing they had chosen a life that did not involve riding these hellish thousand eyed worms to their million and one glassy eyed monoliths (that not only scrape the sky, but gouge out its eyes, slit its throat so that the sunset bleeds brilliant red onto the streets) these soaring office buildings which in truth are nothing more than socialized torture chambers, the instruments of their torture not the comparatively humane cast-iron and rope devices of the middles ages, which actually did their victims the favor of allowing them to feel something as they went out, but stacks and stacks of meaningless drivel, printed and reprinted on letterhead desiged by a machine that feeds on the wasted time and shattered dreams of lost souls, these people who sleep on the trains and drink can after can when they aren't working because they can't stand to hear the little voice screaming through shredded vocal chords at a sky that has already turned cold and grey, the voice that screams "GET OUT! RUN! MAKE MUSIC! MAKE ART! FOR THE SAKE OF EVERYTHING HOLY MAKE LOVE! DANCE! STRIP OFF THE MONKEY SUIT AND GRAB YOURSELF A PIECE OF THE ACTION!"
But of course they don't, they get on the train, just like every other day (a sunday no less), they sit down, they nod off, then like clockwork, they stand up and deboard only to be replaced by a carbon copies of themselves who will do exactly the same thing in reverse, while the whole time, MeestahJ and I watch, somewhere between excitement and pity, leering the machine in the face, the machine we are heading off to fight, like tiny dragon slayers armed with toothpicks and glowsticks and poking at scales the size of government buildings, perhaps doing nothing more than annoying the dragon that would force us into the same routine given half a chance and a good three or four years of hypnosis (more easily recognized as a daily prescription of TV and schooling, one to break the mind and one to mend it.)
And then we're tumbling out of the train doors, the ssshheeeeshh of hydraulic doors opening, the rush of the adrenaline, the sun blaring right through our squinty lids, and into that tiny blue pearl that resides somewhere in the traingle of all our third eyes, now the suited robots replaced by hippies and ravers, smiling, colorful, perhaps only the worker bees of yesterday, but at least for a moment dressed in their hemp, their dusty colors and shaggy hair, beards and beads and drums and poi piling out of the train, standing in line for the bus to the island, chatting, waiting, where is the bus? There's only one every hour... should we walk? Too far to walk, too dangerous, not enough space on the bridge... and then, towering above everyone else, nearly a full head above even MeestahJ, who up to this point was one of the tallest fookers I've ever had the pleasure of meeting, is a man in a t-shirt which reads simply "Jumbo".
Jumbo who spins Acid Trance and Hard Techno. Jumbo who's DJ name is FreeBass but doesn't do drugs (except of course for the occasional all night (MeTHinks I shouldn't mention who does what) binging and of course the occasional (SCRIPted verse). Jumbo who slept only two hours the night before and is ready for a full day of dancing and chilling and vibing with it all, this man who is most certianly Jumbo, perhaps the very being for which the phrase "larger than life" was coined. Jumbo of Osaka, Jumbo the Antithesis of most things Japanese, who fits here like the gnarled tree in the meadow, without which everything seems too plain, too flat, too obedient.
And this is the end of Part One of Nagisa Music festival, (as I assume you tire of my tale which has already been dragged on so long and we have not yet even handed in our tickets at the gate) but be sure to tune in next time as we will experience the music together with MeestahJ and Jumbo and myself, we will float on the clouds of the beat, will beat the lows to the ground and lift the highs to the sky, be sure to tune in I say, as we will explore the various tricks of the trade for hippies in Japan, wait in lines for food and... oh but I've given too much away already. I'll see you there. Just look for the man dancing in the white and orange bandana.
I'm here today to tell you all about a kick ass show that went down in Osaka on April 29th (only 9 days after the auspiscious 4.20 and a ghastly 16 days after an equally ominous Fri. the 13th.) Fortunately however, the party was neither overcast nor sanguine (although just after dark there were some strange smelling clouds lingering above many of the stages, and I must say there was a time when the blood all rushed either too or from my brain either from or two my too front feet, hands, and other various extrememememities, though (un)fortunately at no point to (or from) my third leg on a magical spelunking expedition.
In a nutshell, the day went like this: Wake up at 8:30 after having discussed with MeestahJ the possiblity of getting there by the time the show starts at 10, in order not to miss out on any of the phenomenal music that was to be had, then the early morning realization that generally electronic DJs are not at their peak before nightfall, the fact that most event organizers know this and tend to put the rubes in early (no offense rubes) and of course the all too real existence of the few beers we had imbibed the evening before in preperation for the next days festivities, going back to sleep for another hour to ensure a strong and well rested body for a day of listening to mind searing jungle and bleary eyed, light headed, liquid trance; intense, molten lava hot hard techno; and fall-asleep-on-a cloud-in-the-driveway ambient; not too mention, of course, the drinking, dancing, and diddling (must not forget the 3 D's now shall we?) that we hoped lay in store for us behind the pearly white gates of Maishima Sports Island.
Then, the train ride to the Island, the hour or so of watching men and women in black suits with black teeth and black hearts wishing they had chosen a life that did not involve riding these hellish thousand eyed worms to their million and one glassy eyed monoliths (that not only scrape the sky, but gouge out its eyes, slit its throat so that the sunset bleeds brilliant red onto the streets) these soaring office buildings which in truth are nothing more than socialized torture chambers, the instruments of their torture not the comparatively humane cast-iron and rope devices of the middles ages, which actually did their victims the favor of allowing them to feel something as they went out, but stacks and stacks of meaningless drivel, printed and reprinted on letterhead desiged by a machine that feeds on the wasted time and shattered dreams of lost souls, these people who sleep on the trains and drink can after can when they aren't working because they can't stand to hear the little voice screaming through shredded vocal chords at a sky that has already turned cold and grey, the voice that screams "GET OUT! RUN! MAKE MUSIC! MAKE ART! FOR THE SAKE OF EVERYTHING HOLY MAKE LOVE! DANCE! STRIP OFF THE MONKEY SUIT AND GRAB YOURSELF A PIECE OF THE ACTION!"
But of course they don't, they get on the train, just like every other day (a sunday no less), they sit down, they nod off, then like clockwork, they stand up and deboard only to be replaced by a carbon copies of themselves who will do exactly the same thing in reverse, while the whole time, MeestahJ and I watch, somewhere between excitement and pity, leering the machine in the face, the machine we are heading off to fight, like tiny dragon slayers armed with toothpicks and glowsticks and poking at scales the size of government buildings, perhaps doing nothing more than annoying the dragon that would force us into the same routine given half a chance and a good three or four years of hypnosis (more easily recognized as a daily prescription of TV and schooling, one to break the mind and one to mend it.)
And then we're tumbling out of the train doors, the ssshheeeeshh of hydraulic doors opening, the rush of the adrenaline, the sun blaring right through our squinty lids, and into that tiny blue pearl that resides somewhere in the traingle of all our third eyes, now the suited robots replaced by hippies and ravers, smiling, colorful, perhaps only the worker bees of yesterday, but at least for a moment dressed in their hemp, their dusty colors and shaggy hair, beards and beads and drums and poi piling out of the train, standing in line for the bus to the island, chatting, waiting, where is the bus? There's only one every hour... should we walk? Too far to walk, too dangerous, not enough space on the bridge... and then, towering above everyone else, nearly a full head above even MeestahJ, who up to this point was one of the tallest fookers I've ever had the pleasure of meeting, is a man in a t-shirt which reads simply "Jumbo".
Jumbo who spins Acid Trance and Hard Techno. Jumbo who's DJ name is FreeBass but doesn't do drugs (except of course for the occasional all night (MeTHinks I shouldn't mention who does what) binging and of course the occasional (SCRIPted verse). Jumbo who slept only two hours the night before and is ready for a full day of dancing and chilling and vibing with it all, this man who is most certianly Jumbo, perhaps the very being for which the phrase "larger than life" was coined. Jumbo of Osaka, Jumbo the Antithesis of most things Japanese, who fits here like the gnarled tree in the meadow, without which everything seems too plain, too flat, too obedient.
And this is the end of Part One of Nagisa Music festival, (as I assume you tire of my tale which has already been dragged on so long and we have not yet even handed in our tickets at the gate) but be sure to tune in next time as we will experience the music together with MeestahJ and Jumbo and myself, we will float on the clouds of the beat, will beat the lows to the ground and lift the highs to the sky, be sure to tune in I say, as we will explore the various tricks of the trade for hippies in Japan, wait in lines for food and... oh but I've given too much away already. I'll see you there. Just look for the man dancing in the white and orange bandana.
Consumer demand clearly shows that if the quality is right the customers will come...and line up 10 days before the release date, weather and hygiene be dammed. Feeding this endless hunger for music, message boards, and microchips is a detriment to society. Social interaction is being plugged up behind earphones and the awareness of our surroundings is being narrowed to the size of a hand held screen.
When was the last time you went outside and took in the world around you without an artificial soundtrack? Who can sit and think for more than 10 minutes without being interrupted by a cell phone? Was your last meaningful conversation typed or spoken? Yes, I see the irony of my medium, but it does not devalue my message: Get out there and physically connect with the world.
Save your electronic cocoons for the winter.
Happy spring!
Aya Kato was born only 5 days before me, but she seems to have achieved a great deal more in the art world.
From ipod covers...
to chocolate...
to a current outdoor art exhibition in Barcelona.
Her website's pretty good too. ayakato.net
From ipod covers...
to chocolate...
to a current outdoor art exhibition in Barcelona.
Her website's pretty good too. ayakato.net
Kokojin Tensai (Black Genius) was a normal gangsta-rapper until he met a Japanese exchange girl at his high school and fell in love. Now he raps in Japanese and has a tour date to come to Tokyo.
Here’s a video of his song “Dansu”
Kokujin Tensai will be at Shibuya O-nest March 11th.
(via Japan Probe)
Lisa, at Tokyomango, posted this video of pre-Edo daikagura juggling the shoguns apparently used to watch at their homes. This performance is by Edo-Daikagura Maruichi Senoh Troupe who say the original intent was to chase away evil on behalf of the gods of the shrines.
Finland's 2006 Air Guitar Championships featured three Japanese contestants in the top 20, including overall winner Ochi “Dainoji” Yosuke. "Yosuke outplayed the other skillful contestants with his simplistic but extremely classy air guitarring."
The results of the Air Guitar World Championships were:
1. Ochi "Dainoji" Yosuke (Japan) 35.4
2. Clay "Bangers" Connolly (Australia) 34.8
3. Christian "Heart Buckboard" Sweep (Germany) 34.6
4. Gabriele "The Hoxton Creeper" Matzeu (United Kingdom) 33.9
5. Takeshi "Takeshi the SAMURI Kongochi" Kongochi (Japan) 33.8
6. Craig "Hot Lixx Hulahan" Billmeier (United States) 33.7
6. Rainer "Le Freak" Fussgänger (Austria) 33.7
8. Romain "Sideburn" Lesaffre (France) 33.4
9. Christian "Der Prettauer" Steinhauer (Italy) 33.1
10. Benjamin "Helmutt" Greaney (New Zealand) 32.7
11. Karita "Rässi Rinsessa" Kivioja (Finland) 16.7
11. Michael "The Destroyer" Heffels (The Netherlands) 16.7
11. Igmar "Iggy Stardust" De Haan (The Netherlands) 16.7
11. Eero "Oulun oma poika" Ojala (Finland) 16.7
15. Max "Max" Heller (Austria) 16.4
16. Kanagawa "Super IQ" IQ (Japan) 16.2
17. Terje "Doc" Stephansen (Norway) 15.7
The results of the Air Guitar World Championships were:
1. Ochi "Dainoji" Yosuke (Japan) 35.4
2. Clay "Bangers" Connolly (Australia) 34.8
3. Christian "Heart Buckboard" Sweep (Germany) 34.6
4. Gabriele "The Hoxton Creeper" Matzeu (United Kingdom) 33.9
5. Takeshi "Takeshi the SAMURI Kongochi" Kongochi (Japan) 33.8
6. Craig "Hot Lixx Hulahan" Billmeier (United States) 33.7
6. Rainer "Le Freak" Fussgänger (Austria) 33.7
8. Romain "Sideburn" Lesaffre (France) 33.4
9. Christian "Der Prettauer" Steinhauer (Italy) 33.1
10. Benjamin "Helmutt" Greaney (New Zealand) 32.7
11. Karita "Rässi Rinsessa" Kivioja (Finland) 16.7
11. Michael "The Destroyer" Heffels (The Netherlands) 16.7
11. Igmar "Iggy Stardust" De Haan (The Netherlands) 16.7
11. Eero "Oulun oma poika" Ojala (Finland) 16.7
15. Max "Max" Heller (Austria) 16.4
16. Kanagawa "Super IQ" IQ (Japan) 16.2
17. Terje "Doc" Stephansen (Norway) 15.7
(via JapanSugoi)
Photo by Pasi Lehtinen.
Like rap? So does Hiroshi Sakaue, an 85 year old Hip-Hopper living in Tokyo. Look out Snoop, there's a new man in town, representing the east side. Far East Side, beeeyatch.
I know, I know; It may seem that all of my blurbs recently are about old people. But its not from a lack of respect, or even a dislike of the aged. In fact, its quite the opposite: My grandparents are some of the coolest people I know. I adore them, just as I am sure Mr. Sakaue's gandkids must think he's the coolest thing since Pokemon. Or at least since toilet paper hats. After all, this guy is one hip geezer.
And of course, all this posting about the aged could just be in response to Japan's steadily aging population. Social roles that were once reserved for the "punk kids" are now being preserved by their older counterparts. Take one look at Sakaue San's lyrics in his hit song "Kotsu Jigoku," or "Traffic Hell", and you won't question his resolve, or talent for that matter.
"Riding along the Koshu-Kaido road on my bike,"
"Insurance compensation worth 30 million,"
"Then Linda came along,"
"And she took it all. Oh, No!"
These lyrics, based on a true story about a traffic accident and the subsequent blowing of all his Insurance cash at Hostess bars, show for once and for all, that this guy means business (Oh No!). His current project is a new Album called "Hachi Jigoku," or "Bee Hell."
For better or worse, Hiroshi Sakaue is here to stay. For a while anyway.
View the whole article at Asahi.
I know, I know; It may seem that all of my blurbs recently are about old people. But its not from a lack of respect, or even a dislike of the aged. In fact, its quite the opposite: My grandparents are some of the coolest people I know. I adore them, just as I am sure Mr. Sakaue's gandkids must think he's the coolest thing since Pokemon. Or at least since toilet paper hats. After all, this guy is one hip geezer.
And of course, all this posting about the aged could just be in response to Japan's steadily aging population. Social roles that were once reserved for the "punk kids" are now being preserved by their older counterparts. Take one look at Sakaue San's lyrics in his hit song "Kotsu Jigoku," or "Traffic Hell", and you won't question his resolve, or talent for that matter.
"Riding along the Koshu-Kaido road on my bike,"
"Insurance compensation worth 30 million,"
"Then Linda came along,"
"And she took it all. Oh, No!"
These lyrics, based on a true story about a traffic accident and the subsequent blowing of all his Insurance cash at Hostess bars, show for once and for all, that this guy means business (Oh No!). His current project is a new Album called "Hachi Jigoku," or "Bee Hell."
For better or worse, Hiroshi Sakaue is here to stay. For a while anyway.
View the whole article at Asahi.
Afrirampo, fresh out of the Osaka art-noise scene, has a new album Baka Ga Kita! based on their time living and playing with the Baka Pygmies in Cameroon. "Using electric guitar and a full scale drumset Afrirampo relentlessly destroyed us... Both women injected proto-gorge guttural yowling into our already heavily ass-kicked psyche to the point of near-fucking-death..." - Thurston Moore
KM: Where, when and how did you meet each other?
AFRIRAMPO: It was big bomb in earth... 2002.
KM: What made you decide to make a band?
AFRIRAMPO: Just smell.
KM: Was it always two members in afrirampo?
AFRIRAMPO: YES!
KM: When you were young did you always feel you would play music?
AFRIRAMPO: When we were in mother's pussy.
KM: What are some of your influences?
ONI: NAMAIKI.
PIKA: KEIJI HAINO.
KM: Has your name always been afrirampo?
AFRIRAMPO: YES!
KM: I think I saw a soft drink called AFRIRAMPO. Is that how you got your name?
AFRIRAMPO: YES! It's miracle luck drink. We developmented it!!
KM: Where, when and how did you meet each other?
AFRIRAMPO: It was big bomb in earth... 2002.
KM: What made you decide to make a band?
AFRIRAMPO: Just smell.
KM: Was it always two members in afrirampo?
AFRIRAMPO: YES!
KM: When you were young did you always feel you would play music?
AFRIRAMPO: When we were in mother's pussy.
KM: What are some of your influences?
ONI: NAMAIKI.
PIKA: KEIJI HAINO.
KM: Has your name always been afrirampo?
AFRIRAMPO: YES!
KM: I think I saw a soft drink called AFRIRAMPO. Is that how you got your name?
AFRIRAMPO: YES! It's miracle luck drink. We developmented it!!
(interview with Keith Martin.)
Cowboys and cowgirls from across Japan turned out for the 18th annual Country Gold festival in Kumamoto. Twenty thousand aging fans revelled in beer, barbecue, rodeos, and line dancing. Charlie Daniels headlined the show along with The Grascals, Cowboy Crush, Moot Davis, and festival founder, Charlie Nagatani.
"The show had all the fixings of a real hoedown.
Miss Montana Rodeo had her own tent, where she spent the day signing autographs.
There was a grub wagon, selling barbecue and beans on tin plates, an advertisement for recently un-banned American beef imports. And there was enough Jack Daniels flowing to fill a pool."
Mainichi Daily News has the story.
("Shinbe" - Kobe line dancing instructor.)
"The show had all the fixings of a real hoedown.
Miss Montana Rodeo had her own tent, where she spent the day signing autographs.
There was a grub wagon, selling barbecue and beans on tin plates, an advertisement for recently un-banned American beef imports. And there was enough Jack Daniels flowing to fill a pool."
Mainichi Daily News has the story.
