Here's a polar bear picture which I took here in Los Angeles.
Notice that the bear looks pretty happy, with kind of a sly smile on its face, probably because it is just sitting down to a fine repast. Notice that no blood is visible.
Here's a little video of my birthday present from Leslie, a Gloomy Bear solar figurine:
Notice the splotches of blood on Gloomy Bear's chest, paws and face. Gloomy's pretty vicious, as cute cuddly anime figures go. Notice our cat Crackle who seems oblivious to the danger.
Never heard of Gloomy Bear? Neither had I. Here's a video from something called Japanorama that explains his origins, sort of a pop follow-up to Hello Kitty:
Complete this sentence: "Skin and Pasadena go together like ..?.. and ..?.." No, I can't do it either. At least the participating organizations get to pool their marketing efforts.
If you're not familiar with Taiko drumming, they put great emphasis on playing loudly, no doubt as a result of the style's origins in Japan. The performers use a lot of energy. There's a reason you never see an overweight taiko drummer.
I arrived after the concert had begun. For me (and for many others as well if overheard comments count) the most memorable moment was the very first drum note a person heard. This drummer, Koji Nakamura, carefully choreographed the silence before striking the drum the first time; an excellent lesson on how to focus attention on a single note. Could be a good idea for lots of Western performers.
Mercifully the concert also included quiet musical moments - I heard performances with both a shakuhachi and a koto. But, to be honest, they couldn't compete.
I noticed that one of the smaller drums caused an actual physical sensation in my body - somewhere on my left side just below my heart. Maybe the drum was tuned to resonate with the whole room or with the spot I happened to be sitting or maybe it was amplified somehow by the iPod in my pocket (which was off). Whatever the reason something about that one drum and something about me met on the same frequency.(I know what you're thinking. No, that's too metaphysical.)
I used my pocket point and shoot to video the last minute of the last piece. I managed to get it on YouTube (a first for me). Here it is. It'll give you an idea.
After the concert I asked a member of Makoto if the rehearsals were always as loud as the concert. "Pretty much." was her answer. I also asked if it would be okay to post a video online. She seemed to think that wouldn't be too much of a problem.
Leslie's book collection has a large number of novels that have been translated into English. Within that category many were originally written in Japanese.
For several years one particular book, Inspector Imanishi Investigates by Seicho Matsumoto, kept calling out "Read me. Read me." (Click on the cover picture for larger view.)
Nothing about the book seemed particularly interesting - it's a "police procedural". I'm not a fan of crime or mystery writing and the reviews on the cover made comparisons to writers I knew nothing about.
But the "read me" voice persisted. About a year ago I took the plunge.
Written in 1961 in a dry 3rd person narrative that reveals fascinating day to day details of life in Japan 45 years ago, Inspector Imanishi Investigates chronicles several seemingly unexplainable deaths and the determination of one police inspector to explain them.
Imagine my surprise when one character is a composer of electronic music.
"Ah," I thought, not really believing it but still impressed by the coincidence, "that is why I was told to read this."
Here is some online discussion of the book. Here is a review.
This video of Wagner opera scenes, starring Bugs and Elmer, should probably not be available on Google Video. But it is - and if you've never seen it, click here. It has the one essential quality I demand of all my exposure to Wagner - it's less than 7 minutes.
If you're not into opera, maybe you'd prefer some animated Japanese soft drink commercials, each one based on a different style of dance & music. Then click here to watch Let's Qoo Dance. I wonder if this is better if you understand Japanese.
Earlier I wrote about hearing a snippet of a Japanese ten baritone sax group. Charles Ulrich read my comment. Being smarter than I am he was able to Google the name: Tokyo-chutei-iki. He sent me this link from Far Side Music in London. Here's another link. Thanks, Charles.
"Far Side" in this case refers to the Far East not to Gary Larson cartoons. For £9.99 they sell a "4 track mini-album" by Tokyo-chutei-iki and I ordered it. Plus shipping etc I paid $21.31 for 12 minutes of music. I'm not disappointed.
It's excellent avant, jazzy, minimalist stuff. The album proudly announces "They use only human voice and baritone saxophones." There's a picture of the ten in a flying-V formation each holding a bari and not worrying too much about what clothing they put on that morning. Judging by the recorded sound, ten live baritone saxophones could probably blow me out of my chair - and then I'd laugh.
The first track "Strength Hardness Length Angle" has a lead vocal - a cross between very fast rap and a patter song with a melodic chorus. My favorite is "Cat Fight" a lot of high harmonics alternating with unison pedal tones and repeated rhythms. The fourth track, recorded live, asks rhetorically "Can 10 bari saxes play in tune?"
Because of the speed of delivery from Far Side Music I might order another album that seems unavailable in the U.S. It's a new one by a group called Cicala Mvta (sort of a Japanese Klezmer-Bulgarian-Punk-Jazz band led by a clarinetist). I listen to their album Deko-Boko often.
A NPR article on Friday flogged a CD complication of world music. In the intro one eight-second snippet of cool chords caught my ear while the announcer said "The Japanese offer up ten, yes ten, baritone saxophones."
"Let me hear the rest of that" I thought. I sat in the car for the entire interview but heard nothing more about saxes. I searched the Internet when I got home. Nada. (Except one curious reference to two ("Yuch") jazz bands with multiple bari saxes.)
A few weeks ago I heard a multi-saxophone cut ("Paris") by Moondog on WFMU. "Very Cool" I ordered the album The German Years. I'd heard Moondog's music a little when I was a student but have had no contact since.
In theory it's music I should like a lot: catchy tunes, interesting counterpoint, upbeat attitude without pop cliches. But after listening to the entire album I thought "This music is way too consonant." I guess he resolves all his dissonances properly. Nothing wrong with simple harmonies unless that's all there is. Gotta break the rules sometimes.
Two of Moondog's tunes are used to sell luxury automobiles on television (Paris and Bird's Lament). I've seen the ads dozens of times. For the life of me I can't remember which brand of car. I could look it up, but I'd really rather not know. Some mega-corporation is paying big bucks to entertain me with mysterious music and I can't even identify their product. All is well.
