Paradiddles

Ok, so I started out on paradiddles FIVE years ago--took on their challenge, their intricacies, their variations, their potential, but tonight, all that just flew out the window and it was like I was learning those diddles all over again. I spent serious time in the chasm with my sticks, a practice pad and a metronome. I have logged countless hours on my desk at work, wearing my fingers to the bone, playing those diddles. I worked on paradiddles the other night with my taiko class. I wrote a whole FREAKIN' song based on paradiddles. And tonight? When I am faced with paradiddles? It's like it was the first time.

Well, ok, it wasn't quite like the first time. But it was like I was facing the one thing that I had thought I had already conquered, only to be shocked that when confronted by it in a new context, all that training had gone out the window. Eye-opening, it was. Just makes me realize that you can't ever rest on your laurels.

Back to the chasm for me. Just got a whole new sheet of diddle exercises I haven't seen before. This should be good.

Productive Day!

Started the day out by doing the final stretch on the drum. After soaking the head overnight I brought it in and we started cranking. I asked Janet to come help me and my student since I had a feeling she would keep on cranking after the point where I thought we should fold. We did the whole getting on top of the drum thing:

We got some really great tension on that drum. We used a different hide than I've used in the past. I think the hide was thinner. Janet said maybe it was a fatter cow. A happier cow, I replied. It was a good stretch. 

We got some major tension on that baby. Janet kept saying one more crank. And we would crank. And in my head I was thinking, ok that's good, but then Janet would say, one more crank, and we'd crank. Gotta keep those risk-takers around! I think it's gonna sound good. The tacks came out nice and straight. We did a good job. Hurrah to my student because this was her first time heading a drum!

After that was rehearsal where we worked on finishing my song. I wrote a quick and dirty ending this past week, and have been studying some solo techniques. I am happy that I don't seem to have a problem soloing in six. It feels really natural. Maze really rocks. This is not an easy song. It's in six, and the patterns are kind of strange and Steve Reich-ish. They have taken it in stride and are really grooving along. This is not the sort of song that I envisioned my first song to be. I think it's really weird, but a little funky and groovy. I am happy.

Creating the End

Wow that sounds dramatic. 

No really, I am making an ending to my song. That's one of the last things that have been nagging me (and Janet too--to finish the song! Ha ha). Today has been all about listening. Listening to my teachers. Listening to songs. Listening to myself. I composed an ending that I can live with, but there is just one more element--my solo section--that I need to face up to. I hate writing solos. Or maybe that's being dramatic too. Let's just say that the process of writing my solos is treacherous. I just make it all too hard for myself. I try to be too fancy and too complicated. I always think great solos are really mysterious and difficult, but when you get right down and listen to people's solos, they're really just simple things. There must be something in their presentation that evokes all that mystery. I have a solid base to work with. I've been working with a wonderful teacher who teaches really great things, but also a lot of her lessons are by example.

When I first learned taiko, my teacher told us to hold back on asking questions during class. She asked us to wait until the end if we had a question, and that we ought to just watch and pay attention and try to figure out the answers for ourselves. I don't insist upon this with my students, but there are moments when I wish I could divide myself; there is one part of me that wants to share and to make everything as accessible as possible, and another side of me that wants them to go through the struggle because I believe that it is in the struggle that our greatest lessons are learned. There is something about being handed an answer that is not quite as gratifying as figuring it out for yourself.

No one is going to hand me this solo. My teacher has taught me phrases, has taught me how to count and divide time, and how to put it all together so the phrases fit in time. There have been innumerable lessons in a single class. It is my job as a student to take those lessons and put them together in my mind so that in the end what I have is not just a line of music to mimic, but a real understanding of the hows and whys of that music. When you understand the how and the why, you can take it and change it and make it your own.

I guess that's what solos are. They express the culmination of all your lessons and are moments that you take all that you have learned and speak it in your own way. 

Now I just need to figure out what I am going to say.

Practice Makes Perfect

It really really does! I wish I would practice more. I wish I had more time to practice. I wish we practiced more, and I wish that everyone would see how important, and how just a little practice every day could do a person wonders. I tell my students just to practice 10 minutes a day. Some of them do, and when they do, it totally shows. Today I had them do some 8 and 8's. Those are simple, simple exercises. I was happy that they didn't seem bored. They are deceptively easy. But really, when it comes down to it, the most important sort of practice for me is just working on my chops. I can play all sorts of patterns, but if I were to play paradiddles with a really experienced player, it would be immediately apparent that my basics are in need of a lot of attention. 

Today I snuck in and diddled and rolled and 8 & 8'ed before my classes. I need a lot of work. But on the other hand, it feels really good to just get in there and work on those basics. 

Practice, yo. 

Are We Rolling?

 . . . and we're back.

Yes, I'm back. 

First off, I got roped in to re-heading a drum, (get it? Roped in? get it?). No really. One of my students asked me to show her how to re-head a drum, and of course I am honored and pleased to show someone, especially someone with her enthusiasm, how to re-head. Plus I had told Janet earlier I would re-head one of her drums, so I am killing two birds with one stone. It also inspired me to finally consolidate my notes and thoughts into a clear, concise manual of drum re-heading. Last weekend I put together my notes and photographs and the best of what I can remember into a nice moleskine journal that I loaned my student. These notes are way more clearer than the notes I got, but I cherish the notes I got so much that I never want to let them go, though I guess one of these days I need to return them. I sent my student on a scavenger hunt of sorts, asking her to get the things that we need but that I didn't feel like spending the time searching for. I'm glad she's totally into it. She actually found 100 feet of manila. So this weekend we are going to do the first stretch.  I am also happy that I get to pass on what was given to me. When Janet gave me the opportunity to head my own drum I felt like someone was giving me this huge, wonderful gift that I could never repay. But sharing the knowledge I have accumulated along the way with my student makes me feel like I am one step closer to repaying back a debt I can never really repay. 

Last Friday Janet and I pulled tacks from one of her drums. It was very cathartic, pulling tacks with her. I think it was a moment that needed to happen for me. Just the two of us quietly working together on something we both enjoy. It just kind of happened. I was like, hey, I'm here, might as well start on this now. And she was like, ok, well I'm here too, let's figure out how to get these tacks out. The last month or two have been something of an internal struggle for me, and I don't want to go into all of that, but I needed that month to mentally check out and not be around much. I was sad and disappointed about things, and I realized that I just want to play taiko and be happy about it, and I had to figure out a way to be happy with it, and I figured it out, after quite a lot of soul searching and agonizing and moping. But I'm ok now. 

So cutting and pulling rawhide this weekend.  Sharing. Contributing. Passing stuff on. This is a good, positive thing--just the direction I need to be heading in, or re-heading in. (Get it? Re-heading? Get it?)

We're also building toward a new, big show in July. Oh boy, this will be the best one yet. We're going to be doing it solo, just Maze, with original new works. And one of those new works, I am proud to say, will be composed by me. I am so close. I just need to figure out an ending to tie all the loose ends together. Oh, and compose a solo, but, eh, you know me--I can figure that out. Janet was trying to find a way to substitute people in and out of the different pieces, like they do in basketball, but looks like I am in a lot of them. I don't mind, but had to plead my case to be taken out of Mokuyobi. I don't mind playing Mokuyobi, but I've struggled with my solo for the past 5 years, and if I don't have to think about that battle, then this makes my life easier. We'll see.

What else? Had Michaelle's class tonight. It wasn't easy. But in the middle of struggling through one of the patterns she was showing us (I was the only one who totally didn't get it!) I was like, hey, I like this struggle. I am so glad someone is pushing me and giving me things that are so difficult. I feel like as a teacher I am constantly trying to find ways to make sure that people who find things easy, have something that challenge them, and those who feel challenged get the encouragement and positive feedback they need to continue. It's all a balance. Michaelle's class is really great for me because I just get to kick back and let someone else figure it all out, while I have fun and learn things.  I totally appreciate all the effort she puts in to make sure that I, as a student, get the most out of her class. And everyone else too. She is a good teacher.

Oh, and Bay to Breakers, yo! I've been training for that. I ran 5 miles yesterday! I had taken a week off because of scheduling conflicts and I am proud that I could just jump right in with a long run without much protest from my body. My mind, on the other hand, tried to come up with all sorts of excuses, but in the end my body won out. I know that if I can just get my running clothes on and run my butt to the end of the block and back again, then I'm good. And once I can run past the 30 minute mark, all the protesting my body does goes away, and either things get numb, or my body and I just get used to the idea that we're gonna sweat and keep pushing until we're done. I need to get to the 70 minute mark before I'm totally happy. I got to 50 yesterday. I have until mid-May to get there. And even if I don't, I know that I will finish that race.

So things are going better for me. Busy, busy though. 

March was for moping. April is for getting my head back on and my heart in the right place. I've been sad, but need to find a way to be happy, or I'll never be happy with myself.

Sigh. It's not as dramatic as it sounds. 

OMG, WTF

Strange thing happened tonight--I totally rocked when it was my turn to solo. Usually when I solo I get all tense and uptight and I can barely improvise, and if I do improvise, it's to save my life. But tonight in my percussion class, it was my turn to take a solo section and my hands were totally rocking, and my brain and emotions were like, OMG, WTF are you doing? And my hands were just playing these fun and totally groovy rhythms. It was tiiiight. And honestly, I can't say where it came from. I've never soloed in that groove, and it was on the conga, which I can barely play, but for some reason, I was right there.  I'm a bit surprised with myself. Actually I'm really surprised. I have to credit the teaching and structure, because Michaelle created this definite space in which to solo in, and a space for a tag that you came back to after so many bars. Not that I was counting or anything. It was more of a feel. It was really weird. I felt like I could have kept going and have fun with it.  

This is peculiar and strange. But I like it.

I Did It!

I jumped the fence, YO! Yeah, that's right! I finally got my double stroke roll to actually BE a roll. It's not entirely pretty yet, but it's definitely something new and exciting. I've been in the chasm for weeks working on this. And I did it! Yipee!!!  

Jumping the Fence

Tonight was my percussion class--hooray!!!!!! It was the absolute highlight of my week, believe me. Before we were about to start warmups, Michaelle asked what anyone wanted to work on, and I blurted out doubles!, since I've been working real hard on them on my own. I'm not usually a blurter-outer, but doubles have been a new and interesting challenge to me. In taiko, you don't really have doubles because wine-barrel taiko drums don't lend themselves to doubles. The skins are just too loose and boomy to allow your 1" stick to bounce much. You can get doubles on the shime drums though. They're tighter and more responsive. I see myself as more of a small drum player. I like the sound and dynamics of small drums, and so I've been working a lot on stick technique and, among other things, double-playing. One of the things that Michaelle does a lot when she's thinking is to play a sharp, fast double stroke roll. It is totally awesome. She'll be like, what should we play next, hmm??, and as she's thinking she'll do a roll roll roll roll! Double stroke roll. I'm always amazed.

So I've been working on my double stroke roll a lot. It's simple. You hit with the stick and there is a strike and right after that, a bounce. That's a double stroke. A lot of it is learning how to hold the stick, and then there is the bounce, and there is the control part of the bounce. It's one thing to do it with the right hand, but doing it with the left is another. Getting the left and right side to work in unison is a lifetime challenge in itself. It's all about control, and you don't get that without sitting there with your sticks and a practice pad for hours. I've been putting in those hours, but I just can't get to the point where my rolls go from kinda fast, to Michaelle-fast. I want to get there. She's got these laser-pointer eyes where you can tell that she's looking at your hands and your fingers and wrists and evaluating your sticking--all in just a moment. She had me do the double stroke roll as fast as I could and she said, uh-huh yeah, your ALMOST there, you just need to jump over the fence. I know those fences. I know that I have worked up to the point where if I just figure out that one thing, that one little thing--whatever it is--a lifting of the wrist, the caress of a finger, the push of a pinky--if I can just figure out what that tiny subtle thing is, then I'll get over that fence. I think that a big part of learning percussion goes beyond learning time, and learning patterns, but it's the tiny subtle things that no one can teach. You just need to sit there and practice over and over again until you get it. You can't really teach to someone: after you hit, clench your fingers for a millisecond and then release, and then flick your wrist and put the tension back in your fingers. It's hard. You just have to sit there until you get it.

And I am almost there. When she says you just need to get over the fence I believe it because I have tried to get over that fence many times. I am so close. Just a little bit more. 

My New Song

Just got home from presenting my new song to the rest of Maze. It's not an easy song, but they picked it up really quickly. I've been working on it for so long. It's been a source of excitement, frustration, difficulty, hope, and despair. I have felt every emotion about it, but I am happy I finally figured out things and that I finally just presented it. It's like I can move on with it now that I am mostly done working and reworking it. It's not quite done yet, but well on its way. We are gearing up for a full-length show later this summer, so I am happy that I am able to contribute something to it. Watch out for updates on the big show!!

My New Toy

I got a new toy today. It's the Edirol R09-HR. It's a gem. It is the most beautiful and functional sound recorder I have ever encountered. It records in WAV and MP3.  Now, I was a strong supporter of minidisc, but with the real-time downloading and the extra mic and battery pack, it was a pain. Not that it felt like a pain at the time, but now that the Edirol is in my life, OMG, this thing is godsend. I was going through the manual today and I realized that this thing was created with musicians in mind. All the buttons and extras are tailor-made with the idea that this thing is being used to study sound (and music). They're not just buttons that do neat tricks you'll never use, but they're neat tricks that you absolutely must have. One of those buttons on the front creates loops, so that you can listen to a piece of music, say, your teacher explaining a rhythm that she's about to play, and then she plays it, and you can create a loop so that you hear the rhythm over and over again. Stuff like that. The gadgets on this thing are not extraneous. They're not fluff. They're real-life things that you can apply to your art and career. This thing is a great investment.

I bought a 4Gig SD card ahead of time, which holds a ton of info (the new ipod shuffle that came out today is 4Gig--the whole unit is smaller than an AA battery, can hold 1,000 songs, and talks to you for godsake), and as I was messing around with the 4G card on my Edirol today, I realized that the thing holds 60 hours of recording time (depending on the recording quality). Did I not say that loud enough?? 60 hours!! A minidisc holds a mere fraction of that (I don't even remember anymore--5 or 6 hours?). The Edirol can actually accept an 8Gig card, which, if my math doesn't fail me, is 120 hours. That's days of recording time, yo!! One thing I learned in my digicam research was that while big cards are great, putting all your eggs in one basket is a gamble. But still!

Tonight I brought my Edirol to Michaelle's class, and after tweaking the settings and making some educated guesses, I set the inputs and aimed the thing at our drums and was completely amazed at the results: crystal clear sounds! Both voice and drums! If you've ever tried to record drums, then you know how difficult this is.  What I got was a great recording of our class, with the vocal explanations and the drum rhythms all recorded perfectly! Amazing!

I am such a proponent for recording drum classes because I have finally accepted the fact that I am a bit slow in the head about learning new things. You can teach me an easy pattern and I will get it, but if you ask me what it was 5 minutes later I won't be able to remember. I need help. Having something like the Edirol is so essential to my education. Thank you to the folks a Roland for creating such a fabulous learning aid. 

Wanna see it for yourself? Go here.

Juana Molina

Last Friday I went to see Juana Molina. The first time I heard Juana Molina, I completely froze in my tracks and sat there, awestruck. I felt as though I were being hit with a giant tidal wave of sound and I was completely powerless to do anything but let it take me. I was shocked. People were allowed to DO that with music?

Her music is complex and richly textured. Through the use of loops, she builds layer upon layer of sound. She often samples her own voice so that you may find yourself suddenly surrounded by her, the percussive echoes of one phrase swirling back and forth around you, while an airy melody floats overhead. She also plays guitar and keyboard, and it is amazing to witness, live and in concert, how a song is built. Last Friday she performed with a bassist and a really amazing percussionist, and a bunch of electronic equipment. I don't pretend to understand how she makes music, but she'll play a riff into her loop machine and that sound will cycle, then she'll continue on, adding another riff on a different instrument, and in that way the song keeps getting more complex. I don't know quite how she ties it all together, but it works. I am in awe. She is my new favorite performer.

She did a live set on KCRW this morning, which you can listen to here. They'll probably post the video version soon (which is almost as good as seeing her on stage). Check her out!

I'd Rather Be Here:

That's all.

On Endings and the Golden Ratio

I am writing a song and the only thing I need to do is create an ending for it. That's the only thing holding me back from sharing it and getting feedback for it. I mean I can ask for input on an ending, but a part of me feels like since I started it, I want to finish it, and asking for help and input means that I wouldn't be the one to see it through from start to finish, which is what I want. I like to finish what I start. There's this line in the movie Spirited Away where the herb-guy tells Sen, the little-girl main character, to finish what she started, even though she is unsure and scared. It's classic--he sneers, "Finish what you started, human!" Almost like it's this insult to be a human, as well as to be scared and unsure. But she does it, she finishes it. It's just a little thing, but she has to summon up courage and will. I need to do that.

I am realizing that I like to start a lot of things, with the best of intentions, but I don't always finish them. This song is one of those things, in a way. When I first started working on this song I was so full of good intentions, but then things got hard and complicated (musically--it's in SIX, after all). Then I didn't want to work on it or even think about it for the longest time. But I kept getting all this pressure to produce something, and I would force myself to work on it, but nothing came. It was hard enough to just sit down and think about it. But recently I found other inspiration, and I started playing with it on my computer, and I became really excited and inspired. I would work on it for hours through the night, and then try to sneak in some time on it before work or other activities. That's quite a change from not wanting to even touch it with a 10-foot pole. I am still excited about it. I am so close. But I can't figure out how to end it.

I am beginning to ask myself if there is some deeper thing going on here. Is there a part of me that is scared of seeing things end? Am I scared of that? I hate goodbyes. Loss is something close to me and informs more of my waking minutes than I care to think about. And although finishing this song wouldn't be a loss to me, the process would be over. The journey of it. But oh I need to finish what I start. I need to summon up the courage and will. I would be so happy to hear it with the full ensemble of players. I'd like to see this thing come to life.

It's cheesy, but there's that saying, one door closing is another one opening. Over the past few years I have been trying to embrace that in my life. I've been trying to see change as not loss, but opportunity. I mean, that's a little bit of why I'm here with this dilemma today. The whole impetus of this song is that I first met Janet when she came to class one day and introduced me to the paradiddle, which I obsessed and tormented myself about.  And then later Janet stuck around and created more music which eventually turned into the whole Emeryville-Aiko experiment. I knew that when it was over that there wouldn't be that kind of taiko anymore. I knew I'd miss it. I knew that ensemble would disband and all that work that went into producing that show would be done. 

But things move circularly, kind of like the Golden Ratio. Have you heard of that?  Go look it up yourself since it takes either a mathematician or a great poet to really explain the relationship between two smaller things to a larger. Basically the Golden Ratio is a recipe for beautiful things, from the curl of a seashell to the proportions of the body to the construction of the great Pyramids.  So for me there was that first lesson of the paradiddle, which led into the more complex work of Aiko, and those lessons just built upon themselves until I came to this position of writing my own song out of paradiddles for this new group whose life and scope is much larger than Aiko. 

Maybe that's what life is. Continual reference to the smaller things that grow into larger moments. You keep reflecting back on your experience, suddenly realizing that where you are is greater than where you started, but not independent of it. Maybe my problem is not with finishing things, but trying to figure out how they will work themselves out to become greater. A stone is just a stone until it becomes a pyramid.

Bell Pattern

A few years I learned a rhythm called the bell pattern. It's a rhythm that's heard a lot in Afro-Cuban music. When I first learned it, it was a semi-complicated pattern that over time I became comfortable with. Janet loves to throw it into a lot of her music, and it's a fun and driving rhythm. But I knew that the bell pattern has a lot of importance in Cuban music and is an essential time-keeper for more complicated patterns. I knew it was a part, like clave, that are the shoulders upon which whole worlds of music rest on. The bell is in fact a variation of clave. 

In my percussion class, I am finally learning how important bell is, and I am so thankful for the head start I got on learning it. Now that I am learning patterns within the context of bell, I feel that there is a new and gigantic world of rhythm that I am being introduced to. I think it's great and amazing. I am so loving that class. But what I love the most is that things are slowly making connections in my head. I love that I am building upon all the knowledge and experience I already have under my belt, but in a way that makes me feel like I am beginning to really understand things. Yes I have this one factoid down, and this other factoid, but now they are starting to link up and make sense. It's like when you're putting together a jigsaw puzzle from disparate pieces and very slowly a larger image starts to take shape, and all of a sudden you see that different colors and shapes actually have a logic and place. But boy oh boy, is this a big puzzle. I haven't even finished putting all the edges together yet. There is still a whole lot of filling in I need to do.

The F-Word

No, not that F-word.

FOOD!

So I've started running again and I have to say that one of the drawbacks (or benefits, depending on what side of the fork you're on) is that I am constantly voracious. This is a little surprising to me since I've only been on 3 runs since my winter hiatus. But if you utter the words "tempura udon" around me I will never rest until I get a bowl of that. Same goes for "chili dog" or "hamburger" or "burrito." Heck it's just better if you don't mention any food-words around me at all. I've been a little worried that age and genetics are catching up to me, but I know that if I keep running, I'll end up being that gristly thing I used to be when I was training for Bay to Breakers the first time. 

But really, I am trying to improve myself. It is not easy, given the fact that work keeps me chained to my chair all day (but I do go out on daily lunch-hour walks--hey, doesn't that remind you of prison?) and that other things in my life keep me occupied (like taiko, or catching up on all the Oscar-nominated movies, or that other thing I don't get enough of--sleep!). But spring is in the air, thanks to global warming, and my future and humanity are creeping up on me. I don't want to be on medication before I'm 50.  I don't want a cane. I don't want to ever, and I mean ever, talk to you about fiber. 

So running it is. It doesn't solve everything life throws at you, but it makes you feel good. I was trying to think of reasons not to go running all afternoon, but at 4:45, 15 minutes before work was over, I realized that any excuse I had was just lame, and I begrudgingly changed into my workout clothes, begrudgingly laced up my dorky running shoes (silver! egad!), and plugged the ipod into my head and plodded off into the dying January daylight. That's the one thing I like about running, the ease of it. All you need to do to be a runner is to take that first step, and all the other steps fall into line. You just go left-right-left-right until you've met your goal. The only hard part is occupying your mind in the meantime. Me--I like to listen to music and take in the world around me. At this time of the year, the last rays of the sun hit the treetops straight on, so that they are seemingly lit by an internal fire, and the white, puffy clouds take on a pinkish tinge, and the young undergrads huddle beneath their winter coats rushing off to dinner singly and in pairs before long nights in the library. It sure does feel good afterward, steaming in the winter air, your muscles loose and hot, more miles under your belt, moving closer to the goal you've set out or yourself. But step aside, yo, I'm hungry!

Saying it Out Loud Makes it So

OK. I am going to run Bay to Breakers again this year.

There, I said it. 

Actually, I already signed up for the race and payed the %$@&ing bucks ($9) to have my bib mailed to me. Which means that now I have to train for the darn race. Yes, you are now a witness. 

I have no plans of bringing a friend with me (though if my usual B2B partner wants to drive up from LA to join me, she is more than welcome).  My training this time is different. The will is more personal. I want to run and finish this race for me. I'm not doing it to prove anything. I'm not doing it to please anyone. I'm doing it for ME. 

I want to get into shape again. I want to have that first B2B body I had when I was training so hard for it the first time. Only now the great hurdle is knowing that this race is not as big of a hurdle that I thought it would be the first time I ran it. It's a fun easy race and that hill in the middle is nothing. But I want the physicality of it. I want the sweat and muscle and determination. But I want those things for other things. We've been doing 2-slant stuff in taiko, and I have to admit--I am so winded after playing. That is bad. I want endurance. I want to feel the strength of my body. I want aches and shin splints and time in a hot bathtub and the agony of looking at my watch and realizing I still have 15 more minutes to go and trying to find the mental strength to get through those last 15 minutes. I want the quiet meditative time of running hills, of pushing through walls. The journey is in the struggle.

I'm ready for that. I ran 30 minutes last Wednesday, and for a body that hadn't run for a couple of months, and instead indulged in many holiday meals and was enjoying the deadly sins of gluttony and sloth, I did pretty good. Well, it was pretty good when I was running, but now, 2 days later, my legs are killing me. Muscles that I didn't know I even had are screaming for attention and sympathy. But that's ok. That's actually what I've been craving for.

I'd like to feel alive again. I'd like to feel sweat and accomplishment. It's the third Sunday of May. You should do it too!

A Very Big Tree

When I went to Hawaii with my mother in 2001, we were standing outside a restaurant in Hilo and we both looked in wonder at that tree back there. The scale of living things in Hawaii is amazing, more so in Hilo, and we'd never seen a tree that big before. We asked my mother's Aunty, whom we had been visiting, how old that tree was, but she didn't know, and in fact, she confessed, she had never noticed that tree before. It's one of those small moments I won't forget. Life can be so monumental sometimes, and we don't even realize it.

I went to that same restaurant, quite by coincidence, while in Hilo a couple of weeks ago. It made me miss Mom horribly.

Songs for Sensei

I played in Mark Izu's Songs for Sensei show at the De Young Museum last night. It was such an honor. The more he told the stories about his sensei, who is his sho teacher, the more I realized how important this show was to him, and how honored I was to be included in this. The Sho is a reed instrument composed of multiple pipes that is played traditionally in Gagaku music, or traditional Japanese music played for the Imperial Court. Mark, besides being a talented and celebrated jazz bassist, is an experienced sho player. Before I met Mark I didn't even know what a sho was.

It was touching to me to see how a person like Mark, whom I consider a master musician, express his gratefulness and gratitude to his own teacher in a full length show. It made me appreciate the fact that even when you become very accomplished, one doesn't forget their roots and those who taught you your lessons along the way. 

As a taiko player I consider myself an amateur, but being involved in this show has made me feel like maybe one day I can attain the experience of someone like Mark. As Janet and I were driving home from the show, I thanked her for including me in this, because I had assumed that Mark had asked her to perform and that she had included me because I am always willing and mostly available to play taiko with her. But she told me that Mark had asked her and I to perform with him, and I told her, Oh! I didn't know that.  I sat there in the silence of the car. We were crossing the Bay Bridge, over the water, between here and there, the lights of the city casting their glow in the night. San Francisco was behind us, home was growing closer. We were moving away from one show, and as we passed through time and distance, we were traveling toward new horizons. Our lives reflect upon themselves. It was kind of one of those moments that I know I will never forget, and right now I can't quite explain why that moment was so overwhelming for me. Maybe someday.

It was a great show. Jazz is a new genre for me, and I studied my cues, studied the music. I am proud that I was able to hold down the rhythm in 5. I am happy that we pulled off Threading Time, the most challenging song for me (and the song that included a part of Kai To Ryu. I don't know what we would have done if we couldn't have pulled off the Kai section of the song!). I am totally impressed at our performance of Chikara, which for me, is a song that you can only nail if you have a complete ESP-mind-meld with your fellow player (or if both of you are metronomes, which we are not). I am greatly humbled to have worked with musicians who have been in the business for probably more years than I have been alive.

And for blog's sake, here are a couple of pics. Preset for the show. So many instruments! And it's not even so much that there were so many instruments, but that all the musicians playing those instruments were so darn good on them!

Shoko (the koto player), me and Janet in our fabulous white outfits. 

Backstage pass, yo!

I learned a lot. I am very humbled. 

Yes, that's the right word. 

Humbled.

Take 5

So, coming back from vacation has been quite a trial. The first thing my boss said to me after asking me about my vacation was if I was willing to work overtime.  I looked around at the precarious piles of work and agreed. I stayed late and worked on the weekend. But there were also all the other things I'd been putting on the back burner, unwilling to think about. I need to learn a brand new song that we're going to perform at RCW's Inauguration Party. I still haven't worked on it, and that looms heavily over me. Oh, and I have to do a 2-drum slant solo in it too. I don't have much experience with 2-drum slant solos. Please, come for Obama. 

But even more pressing is the performance with Mark Izu at the DeYoung Museum for their Friday Nights at the DeYoung series. I have to say firstly that Mark is such a nice guy. He is sweet and mellow and is such a sharp musician. This guy is brilliant and way out of my musical league--I'm not even sure we're playing the same sport. The fact that I get to tag along with Janet as one of the performers in this project is such an honor. Which means that I have to work extra hard for this gig. First off, it's jazz. I've never performed jazz before. Sure, I appreciate jazz--heck, it was the public radio stations in LA that played jazz that really got me hooked on music in the first place. I had no idea what I was listening to, but I would study it. I would really pay attention and try to understand what jazz was until finally I came to the realization that what jazz was is an appreciation for innovation, for expression, for feel. I mean, I still claim complete ignorance about jazz, but what really draws me in is the journey that the music takes you on. You have to let go of everything about where you think a song will take you, and instead take the hand of the musician and let them lead you to places you've never been.  It's the where-we're-going part that is a challenge to me right now.

Yesterday we had rehearsal at Mark's and I got a better picture of what we'd be doing. I took copious notes and have been looking at them all day. I can do this, I know I can. Part of it is learning what we're going to be playing, knowing when (approximately, give or take 3-5 minutes) we are going to be playing it, and letting the idea of "feel" guide the rest. Oh, and then there is the playing with Janet part. I couldn't imagine a better person to lead me on my first jazz gig, and part of this leg is learning to play with her and just feeling and anticipating. I'm totally following her lead, but part of the challenge is knowing when she is going to start, when she is going to stop, and how to work with her in between. I am glad I have worked with her so long because some of it comes natural, but some of it is studying her body language and the phrases and movements she speaks the music with. But I have to admit some it is just hanging on for dear life. It is a good learning experience. 

Another new thing for me is learning a song in 5. I think that means the song is in 5/4, but don't quote me on that. There are 5 beats to a bar, or what I imagine a bar to be. There are 5 units to a set. Oh, whatever. I just think back to the struggle learning a song in 6 was, and actually, learning this song in 5 is worlds easier. I don't know if it's experience or just the fact that songs in 5 are fun. I have a suspicion that if Janet hadn't told me the song was in 5 I would have never known something was amiss, but she told me that I probably would have been confused. I'm just curious to know how long it would have taken me to figure out something was weird. Maybe it's just a good groove. But anyhow the stressful part is that at moments I'm the only one holding down the groove, and it may be for a long time, and it will be under other people solo-ing, so I will have to be solid. Today I was at the copy machine, waiting for my endless copies to come out, and I was practicing the 5 groove. 

 

This is gonna be interesting.