True Tall Taiko Tales

Bunkai

2012-02-02T07:00:00.000-08:00

When do you stop merely imitating and start thinking for yourself?

In karate, there's a concept called bunkai. Bunkai is the process of kata analysis in which the kata that one has been studying are disassembled and one tries to figure out what the meaning behind the moves are. Mind you, the meanings are lost to time - assuming there were any meanings to begin with. But that's a topic I'm not going into here because I value my sanity (not really, but I don't want to get off on a tangent!)

The idea is that you are taught a kata and learn how to do each move correctly in turn. After you are comfortable with the sequence, bunkai takes you from knowing the how to knowing the why. My bunkai may be different from yours, but both can be correct. It's a combination of logical process and personal preferences.

When you start taiko, you do what you're told (unless you're a jerk, ha!) You get told what's expected and you try to match what your instructor shows you. Sooner or later, however, there needs to be a time when you start looking for more than what you're being told. Unless your instructor is only teaching you, there's only so much they're going to be able to help you with. Also, your instructor may intentionally hold things back from you because they want you to figure things out for yourself.

When that time comes, what you look at and what you figure out is really up to you. And like with bunkai, what you figure out might be different from what someone else figures out. The real question isn't what should you look at, but when?

Bunkai is an easy concept to have someone begin, even if the actual process is difficult. Depending on your dojo, you will have set guidelines for when bunkai is expected/required. Whenever you hit that rank, you should be thinking about it. Simple enough. But that's karate, where ranks are clearly established. In taiko, those sort of systems don't really exist, so when do you go from just doing to thinking?

I can't tell you that, it's something you'll have to figure out for yourself. There are few (if any) taiko teachers that are going to tell you, "now it's time for you to figure things out." As I say in my posts again and again, your development is really up to you!

Odaiko

2012-01-30T07:00:00.000-08:00

No one will ever ask you, "are you guys going to bring the small drum?" You'll also probably never overhear two taiko players comparing how large their katsugi okedo are, either. No, the crown jewel of taiko is the odaiko.

Not every group has one, not every group needs one, but there's still such a "wow" factor for a lot of people - players and audiences alike - when the odaiko is brought on stage.

PJ Hirabayashi said that the odaiko is like a mirror - when you play it, you face it straight on and it reflects who you are to the audience. If your technique is poor, it will show. If your energy is strong, it will show. If you play to impress, to inspire, or whatever the case might be, it will show. It's a very revealing experience.

I learned everything I know about playing odaiko from PJ and Yoshikazu Fujimoto of Kodo. A lot of it I had to figure out on my own, and still am. Even though I've had teaching in every style of taiko I play, odaiko is the one that I still feel needs the most development, but is also the most satisfying.

When I play, I don't have to think about my face or what I look like. Sure, there's still some basic form to consider, but instead I think about how to make a good sound, if I'm holding anything back, and "what would Yoshikazu do?" It's tiring, it's sweaty, and it's unlike any other style of taiko than I play.

Odaiko can be empowering as well as daunting. You can't approach it meekly and there's nothing to look at but the drum itself. Is that taiko in its most "pure" form? Perhaps...

Drill: Sshhh.

2012-01-26T07:00:00.000-08:00

A lot of people, when they first see taiko, think that there's a lot of strength involved. Although strength is important when it comes to using the body, strength in striking is rarely a good thing. Overhitting often kills the sound, damages the drum, and can damage the player as well. "Wham wham wham" is a bad principle to follow...

Also, it's pretty darned easy to hit as hard as you can. Whether you do use muscle or know how to use gravity and hara and wrist snap and all those goodies, where's the skill involved? If progress involves getting incrementally better at something, where would that lead? Hitting so hard you break the skin with one hit? *shudder*. No, none of us wants that.

So here are the drills for today. Actually they're less drills and more of a challenge. How quietly can you play?

Drill ONE: Place your bachi close to the head of your drum and see how much you can maintain the quietest patterns you choose to play. Once you think it's quiet, make it quieter! It'll only get harder the longer you do it. This is a simple drill...on paper.

Drill TWO: Raise your hand far away from the drum, as if you were about to strike it normally. Begin your strike and snap the bachi down while making the quietest hit possible. Don't slow the strike! The only thing that's different should be the volume of the hit. This drill is not easy, especially if you're alternating arms and trying to be consistent.

When people think of "control" in taiko, they often think of how fast a person can play or what kinds of dense patterns someone can pull off. Having a command of your dynamics is a level of control a lot of players have trouble with.

Dynamics drills aren't "sexy", they're sometimes frustrating, and they don't have the same feeling of payoff as some of the other technical drills. But imagine playing dynamics at will, being able to shoot from loud to truly quiet with confidence, knowing that you've tackled a skill that many taiko players overlook.

A Teacher's Responsibility

2012-01-23T07:00:00.000-08:00

As a teacher, I have always thought about trying to get better by learning how to teach better. As a student, I have always thought about trying to get better at technique (musical, visual, physical, etc.) That makes sense, right? However, recently I started thinking about how important it also is to improve one's technical skill - as a teacher.

Now I just said as a student, it's important to get better technically, but why would that be different as a teacher? As a teacher, your students come to you for guidance and inspiration. Some of them may even look up to you as a leader or role model. If you don't seek to improve yourself, then why should they?

In taiko, a teacher may be harder to define if the group isn't hierarchical, but in karate the assumption is black belt = teacher. Personally, it's really annoying when someone achieves any sort of rank and then feels they've arrived at some magical point where "I teach, you do". Pfft.

It would be easy enough to just say "teachers are students too", and leave it there, but that would make for a boring blog. I believe that taking on a teaching role comes with it not just the responsibility to do right by your students, but also show them that you take learning and growth seriously.

Ultimately, growth is something I believe we should all strive for, in teaching, in learning, in skill, in understanding. It really shouldn't come from what others think about you, but if it pushes you to be a better (fill-in-the-blank), then maybe that's not a bad thing?

Confidence.

2012-01-19T07:00:00.000-08:00

In my experience, one of the biggest non-technical skills people ask for in taiko is confidence:

"How do I get more confidence performing?"
"I feel like I suck when I play taiko."
"I get so nervous when I'm playing in front of people!"

This is one area that I really wish I could help people with more directly. I can tell you how I came by my confidence, but that won't necessarily translate to your style, situation, or personality.

I definitely credit martial arts for being my start in performance. I learned how to focus and how to concentrate, ignoring the inner voice of self-doubt. I was judged often by black belts scrutinizing the tiniest details and expecting immediate adjustments. Taiko seemed like the easier of the two!

So how *do* you learn confidence? In previous posts I've talked about this, but it's a subject good to return to, to re-examine. For some, continual positive reinforcement works. For others, it doesn't have much of an effect. I don't feel qualified to write a post on "how to believe in yourself", but instead I want to talk about four different types of confidence:

Confidence of skill.

It's easy to feel you're not "good enough" or compare yourself to other people, either in your group or otherwise. But why do that to yourself? Better to look at the progress you've made, or the goals you're getting closer to than to dwell on the negative. If you're asking, "how do I get more confident?" while simultaneously telling yourself "I suck," then you negate any progress. Don't fall into that trap!

Confidence of performance.

Stage fright, anyone? Personally, I miss the days when I used to get nervous before a concert. I think I digested those butterflies. This nervous feeling goes away with time, but just when that is will differ for each of us. Just remember that unless you want to try the old "think of your audience in their underwear", it's just going to take actual performances for this type of confidence to build up. Keep at it!

Confidence of song(s).

This one is probably the easiest one to deal with. When you're learning something new, it's not often that you're going to be comfortable doing it until you've done it several times. There's not secret here; put time into what you're learning and you'll have it down soon enough.

Confidence of (personal) style.

This is a subtle, yet powerful area. When are you able to define your own personality and playing style within the framework of your group? Very few taiko players are able to be individual artists or play however they want to. Most of us learn from one (or more) groups that have a style/feel to conform to, and when starting out it's often useful to model yourself after someone in your group. After a point, however, it's really useful to break away from who you've been "following" and figure out what works for you.

There's only so much you can be someone else, no matter how much you might admire them. Do you really want to be a copy of someone? You can honor someone you really admire by following their teachings even when you start developing your own "voice". It may not come easily, and it won't necessarily happen when you want it to, but there are few things as satisfying as being comfortable in your own "skin".

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So when does that confidence come? When will you no longer feel those doubts, fears, inadequacies? Worrying about when just puts more pressure on you. Instead, think of goals and steps to get to those goals.

You have to have confidence in yourself to have it mean anything. While others can believe in you, confidence from the outside is nothing compared to from within. You might have to fight for it, you may stumble back a few times, but you'll never regret getting there!

Forgotten Promises

2012-01-16T07:00:00.000-08:00

Last week, I had an interesting opportunity.

Wednesday afternoon, I was forwarded an email asking for 100 volunteers to show up for a music video shoot and do some basic body percussion. Sami Yusuf, a London-based pop star and UN Celebrity Partner, was making a video to bring awareness of the drought-stricken people of the Horn of Africa. His song is called Forgotten Promises.

The person in charge of the volunteers for this project was Keith Terry, who I mentioned in my last post. An interesting spot of coincidence there... Anyways, since I had the time and interest in body percussion, I drove there the next day.

We wound up with about 42 people, well-short of 100 but considering how hard it was to coordinate what we had, 100 would have been insane.

First we all learned the pattern, played with our hands on our thighs. It turned out to be very close to a pattern we play in a song in SJT, so I picked it up right away. Keith added a trill every couple of bars and asked those who were comfortable with that addition to be in the front rows. I started off on the side, because being a tall sort I didn't want to block people behind me, but I was told to stand dead-center in the second row. Sorry people behind me!

Once we were in formation of rows and columns, we started playing along to the music, which proved the hardest thing to do. The pattern was relatively simple, but doing it it in time to the music was not! Even if each one of us were drummers, it would have been hard - and I don't think most people had a percussion background, so it took a very long time to get us all in sync. Eventually, after about a dozen practice runs, we did another dozen or so real shots from different angles.

I'm not sure when the video will be coming out, but it's supposed to air on MTV and the BBC when it does. Our section is about 15 seconds - pretty short - but it was a very unique experience and a chance to help a noble cause. If you're interesting in learning more about Sami and his project, you can go here. When the video is up, I'll link it here!

Influences: People

2012-01-12T07:00:00.000-08:00

I wanted to give mention to a few people who've shaped me into the artist I am now. It might be in direct ways or otherwise, but it does me good to remember who I owe gratitude to.

- Roy and PJ Hirabayashi

If you don't know who Roy and PJ are, you probably ~~don't play taiko~~ should! I'm serious. Their contribution to North American taiko - and taiko in general - have a lot to do with where taiko is today, and even if you've never met them, without their influence, it's possible you might not even be playing taiko. Even though I learned most of my taiko directly from PJ, I can't discount how much Roy influenced my growth. It's a bit simplistic to think of it this way, but I give credit to PJ for shaping how I play and to Roy for what I play. PJ literally poked and prodded at me for many many years in order to get my lanky frame to "get it", whereas Roy challenged my sensibilities and assumptions both musically and outside of practice. Along the way I have had my share of head-butting with them both, which I know endeared me ever-so-much with them, but I hope I do them both justice.

- Yoshikazu Fujimoto

Yeah, this is a little fan service, but after falling in love with Kodo, I soon found myself admiring Yoshikazu more and more every time I got to see him. At first he was "the guy on Odaiko" that blew me away, but in time I got to know him as a very genuine person that really gave all of himself when he performed. He didn't have need to have the fastest hands or the fanciest moves but he put out the kind of energy that I strive to achieve every time I perform.

- Keith Terry

I've mentioned Keith in previous posts, but for now I'll just say he's a body musician extraordinaire. I met him through SJT when his group collaborated at our 20th anniversary, and have taken workshops from him as well as seen him perform live several times. I can't do what he does, not even close, but he made me think about how the body can be used as an instrument and not just a delivery vehicle. Being able to feel music *in* my body instead of just making it *with* my body was a radical mind-shift for me and it's still an integral part of how I perform.

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There are other people who continue to push and inspire me, like Yurika who continues to challenge how I think about things, my sensei who keeps finding ways of making familiar things fresh, and my mom who supports me even when I doubt myself.

No matter how good I might get, the people that help me get there will always deserve a large part of that credit. Why not take a minute and think of the people in your life that helped you get where you are now?

Japanesque

2012-01-09T07:00:00.000-08:00

What is "Japanese" in your group and when does it matter?

- Costuming

What you wear gives sends your audience a message, but what they see may not be what you intend. What does your costume/outfit say about your group? Do you wear happi, obi, tabi, hachimaki? If you wear even more traditional Japanese garb, is it because you're trying to present a very Japanese visage and style? If you only wear a few of these pieces, is it out of convenience, or budget restrictions, or...? Does what you wear support or go against the message of your group?

- Song titles

I mentioned this before, but of the songs I've composed by myself, I've never given one a Japanese title. It's not that I'm against doing so, but I prefer to name a song whatever feels best. Often, a Japanese word doesn't capture what I'm trying to get at. What about your songs? Is a Japanese name the first thing you think of? Why? Do you feel you need to give it a Japanese name because your group prefers it?

- Other instruments

Even though the difference between kane and atarigane may be slight, the difference between hyotan and shekere is not. Just as we would hope other people using taiko would at least know what they are playing, we should understand and respect the other instruments we appropriate into our music.

- Media

I remember at the first "Non-Japanese players in taiko" Discussion Session at NATC, a Caucasian woman said people would request Asian players at gigs (or be confused when non-Asians showed up). This is ignorance on the requester's part, but it made me wonder what the group's website and press info portrayed. If you have a lot of Asian faces on the website but present several non-Asians at a performance, can you really be surprised when there's confusion? What do your pictures, videos, and general web presence say about your group from the outside?

- Japanophiles

There are people who really identify with Japanese sensibilities. But not ALL sensibilities. Each and every one of us choose what we follow and what we don't. Perspective is important to realize this especially when people take a superior attitude on being "more" of something than others. Does being into anime and J-pop make someone "more" Japanese than someone who's into karate and taiko? Does being born in Japan bring more authority to anything? How would you quantify any of that? Being "more Japanese" is not only irrelevant to credibility, it's impossible to measure!

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Some of these topics are more sensitive than others, but if we shy away from them, we only invite ignorance. The more we understand, the better choices we can make!

Football (2006 FIFA World Cup Germany) by Hisashi Tenmyouya

Too late.

2012-01-05T07:00:00.000-08:00

One thing that I hear from taiko players a good deal is how they wish they started earlier.

Look at the crop of players coming out of collegiate groups these days - there were maybe three or four college groups when I first started playing taiko! What's more, there are a good number of kids going into those collegiate groups with a lot of experience to begin with.

It's easy to look at the next generation of players and get discouraged. So much youth! So much talent! So much potential! Why even bother playing when they're so much better than you?

Ehhh...not so fast there. That's pretty harsh stuff, but I've heard people vocalize these sorts of worries.

First of all, why would you let someone else's ability affect your own? There are a lot of people that are more talented than me in many areas that I put effort into. Should I stop trying because they're better? Of course not. So why should you?

Second, why would someone's age matter? If someone is older than you that you feel is more talented, that's somehow better? I could psychoanalyze that one but it just gets weird.

And third, sure there are a lot of talented kids coming out of the newer generations of taiko players. Do you feel all of them are better than you? Or are you focusing on the ones that catch your attention? There are college taiko players that have their own self-esteem issues, similar to other taiko players out there.

What if someone came up to you and said, "sorry, you should have started playing taiko earlier but now you'll have to stop because some of these younger kids are just going to be better than you." How many seconds would you wait until you laughed in their face? It's ridiculous coming from someone else, but it's ridiculous coming from your inner voice, as well.

Why spend time worrying about the possible potential of other taiko players, most of whom you may never meet? What good does it do you? Go practice!

2012...so now what?

2012-01-02T12:06:00.000-08:00

What's in store for 2012? Well the Mayans say it's the end of the world, but I'm just talking about taiko in my life so I'm not going there...

It should be a relatively normal/calm year. A collaboration coming up in February, an annual concert in the Fall, no tours that I can think of, and of course all the festival stuff sprinkled around once the weather gets warm.

I *am* going to write a song, dammit. I need to set myself a deadline and get going on it. I'm probably going back to the idea I had before the 12 Weeks challenge, because it's a strong concept and definitely not something done before (in taiko, perhaps in percussion in general?) We shall see.

I still want to develop myself as an artist, and I might look more into Stepping or Body Percussion in general. And if I get my act together (and if we get people out here), I might FINALLY test for my 3rd black belt.

So what about you, dear reader? Any art-related plans for 2012?

300!

2011-12-29T07:00:00.000-08:00

Wow. I didn't plan the last post of 2011 to be my 300th post, but there it is!

This format hasn't changed much since I started, and I'm okay with that. I know it's not the slickest blog out there; there's a lot I could add to make it more visually appealing or more up-to-date with technology, but neither is really a priority for me.

I rarely get responses from people on the blog itself, which is a shame, but having people come up to me and tell me they get a lot of out it is a huge reward for me. It wasn't the reason I started blogging, but knowing that people find it useful, interesting, and thought-provoking makes me enjoy pushing myself to come up with new topics.

The other thing that I've gained from doing this regularly is that my critical eyes and ears are much more honed. Whether I turn them inwards or out, I find that I look deeper, listen more closely. I find that I hold myself more accountable for both me and my readers because of it.

Here are some fun facts on the blog since its inception in February 2009:

The average time a person spends on the site is 2 minutes and 13 seconds.
Vistors from 108 countries have visited my blog, the "big three" being the US, Canadia, and the UK. (Yes, Canadia, it's where Canadians come from.)
The most popular post I've done was The tall whisperer. This post was read six times more than the next popular post, Question Everything: Kiai (part 1).

So what's in store for the next 300 posts? Probably more of the same, yay! However, if any of you have suggestions for what you'd like to see me talk about, features you'd like to have added, let me know! You can post on here (anonymously if you like), or email me directly. Even though this blog is for my amusement, I really enjoy being able to help people with specific questions or issues.

As I end the big three-double-ought, I want to list a few of my favorite posts. If you're new to the site or didn't scroll back through the archives, these posts either give a good sense of where I'm coming from or tackle some meaty topics in-depth. Thanks for continuing the journey with me!

- What the @%#&!* is taiko?
- Surprise?
- Failure *is* an option.
- Do simple things well.
- Taiko don't care. (my personal favorite)

Question Everything: Everything

2011-12-26T07:00:00.000-08:00

Going to wind the year down with a blog about what I'm all about. I began the Question Everything line of posts to tackle specific subjects that were often taken for granted, but I wanted to get even more at the heart of my personality with this one.

As a black belt teaching groups of students unsupervised, I found I had to know the techniques I was teaching down to fine details. As a taiko player, I found in order to get past stagnation, I had to re-examine my motions. Some breakthroughs came about in the weirdest places, like watching reality TV shows that had nothing to do with either art. Other times, I would make some pretty interesting observations watching other people try things out.

So what I want to ask you in this post is, how do you do what it is you do?

Try looking at one of your songs, something you know how to play really well. How do you extend your arm before a strike? Is it ergonomic? Does it look straight (if it's supposed to be)? When you execute the strike, is your hara activated? Are you mostly using your arms and shoulders instead? Does the strike follow an efficient path? Before contact with the drum, is the bachi cocked back? Where on the drum did you hit?

And that's the easy stuff.

How much do your feet contribute to your strike? Are they simply holding you up or are they contributing to the generation of power? Are you breathing with the strike or holding it in? When you move your feet, where is your center? Are you moving your foot to the spot it needs to be or initiating the movement in your body first? Does the bachi in your hand have weight or is it simply an extension of your arm? If put into a pose once, how consistent can you replicate it? Where are the "smart points" of your muscle memory"?

There is a point where micro-analyzing your form will lead to confusion. "Analysis leads to paralysis," they say. As true at that may be, if you truly broke down all your fine movements and understood how you're doing them, then you'd be so much further along in your development than you were before.

How can you change for the better before you understand what you're doing now? Ask those questions of yourself and see where you grow from it.

Deadlines.

2011-12-22T07:00:00.000-08:00

If you were told you had to learn a song by a certain date, would you try harder to learn it than if there was no deadline?

In talking with the senior black belt at karate, he mentioned how in years past everyone would test at each belt test they were eligible for. Right now, people still wait until they're eligible, but then wait until they feel "ready". Sure, not everyone would pass, but it made everyone push a lot harder during that time because they knew there was a test they felt obligated to attend. Testing more often was also a sign of respect in showing sensei that they believed in his teaching style.

As I usually do, I tried to apply this logic to taiko. It may not be as easy to learn a song or a part of a song as learn the requirements for the next belt level, but what would happen if you set a date to learn something by, especially if you told your sensei/sempai/peers to make you accountable? Would that be an effective motivator? If so, why not do it?

Take something you've wanted to achieve. Pick an appropriate time, say 3-6 months. Tell people in the group that you trust to hold you accountable. See what happens! And let me know how it works out!

Aim higher.

2011-12-19T07:00:00.000-08:00

I was watching an episode of "The Next Iron Chef" (not on purpose because the US version is painful to watch). One of the judges, while critiquing a dish, said this: "It's better to fail interestingly than to succeed moderately."

Would you rather write a piece with high aspirations that pushes you artistically but doesn't work out, or write a piece that gets played but doesn't bring anything new to the table?

Would you rather solo in relative safety, knowing you'll be solid and have no mistakes, if that lack of risk meant little growth? Or would you rather risk a few weaker sections and a mis-hit here and there if it meant you might find a spark?

It's easy to say we should always try the harder path, that risking big will lead to big rewards. Personally I tend to take a riskier path in my solos (not prescribing most of them, trying out weird things) and I've had a fair share of mishaps, but over the years I remember more of the times when something went right then when I messed up. I do remember some of the mistakes, but I can laugh at them now. Someone has to!

It's the successes that inspire me to keep trying, keep risking, and keep growing. My point here is don't always set your sights for what you know you can accomplish. Aim higher!

Fall Tour 2011: Almost done!

2011-12-11T20:14:00.000-08:00

We're in Memphis for four days, and these last two are pretty packed. We had a casual week in Nashville (Nash Vegas as some locals call it) but it's now from one extreme to the other.

We loaded into the theater at 8:00 am today, had a workshop in the afternoon and a full 2-hour concert at 6:00 pm. Tomorrow morning we have two 1-hour family/school shows, a workshop on stage, then a 6-hour drive to Athens, TN. The two days after are pretty much a repeat: all-day tech, concert at night, school shows the following morning. Crunch time!

It's been a great tour with an abundance of good food, cold weather, great theaters, plane delays, and it's nearing its end. I have some family coming to the last concert in Athens, and if schedule permits I'll try to meet up with them for breakfast the morning before we leave. I may post once more about tour on my return home, but then quickly resume my regular posting schedule.

I've got a big blog milestone coming up, so be on the lookout for that in a few weeks! Until then, wish us luck that we make it home without any delays!

Fall Tour 2011: Halfway through

2011-12-06T21:35:00.000-08:00

We're out in Nashville now, having just started our residence at the Tennessee Performing Arts Center (TPAC). We have four "family" shows and a couple of clinics/workshops in the span of four days, which is a really light schedule that allows us a lot of free time this week.

TPAC is really impressive, having multiple stages and shows going on at the same time. There's even a museum! The facilities are top-notch and it feels like we're being pampered. I haven't even mentioned the stage, which is huge and it's great being able to stretch out, so to speak.

Today we had our first of the four performances with just under 1100 kids with teachers and parents included in the mix. After the hour-long show, we had about 40 kids from one school up on stage for another hour, with a hands-on workshop. After dinner we watched the tape of the concert, which led to much amusement and anything we felt needed adjusting was very small indeed. A good show!

We have a lot of free time the next few days and we're already swimming in BBQ and meat and cheese, so finding new eats has become a priority. The fried Oreos, which I posted on Facebook, were a bit excessive, but what the heck!

We're left with a week to go and the last few days will be rather busy, but I'll try to post at least once more before I head back home. If you're finding this all rather boring, check back on the 19th when regular posts resume! Probably. :)

Fall Tour 2011: First three days

2011-11-30T21:04:00.001-08:00

The story so far...

Boo: A delayed flight in the morning led to a few of us getting to the hotel at 3:00 am the next day (instead of 8:30pm the night before.)

Yay: All the luggage came through just fine!

Boo: Really heavy rain on arrival and through the 3-hour drive to the hotel.

Yay: Awesome soul food with great service at a local restaurant that doubled as breakfast the next day!

And that was on the first day.

The first theater we went to was in Florence, South Carolina, and was barely two months old. It was a beautiful theater and we were honored to be a part of their inaugural season. The crowd was on the smaller side, which was understandable with a new theater, but we definitely left them with a lot of energy.

During the show, in one of the last songs, I noticed a little kid jumping about in the front row. I thought she was trying to play along during one of my solo, with her hands flapping about, but it was hard to see. Apparently the girl was trying to copy whoever was closer to her; it happened in at least one other song. After the show, I saw her clutching our DVD close to her chest and her dad was delighted with the show.

Today was our big driving day; 8 hours of a 10-hour trip after two back-to-back school shows in the morning. We're pretty tired but at least it's a bit of a breather right now.

Everyone's healthy and in good spirits; 14 days to go!

Fall Tour 2011: Prologue

2011-11-24T07:00:00.000-08:00

It's been a while, but I'll be going out on tour for 18 days, starting Monday the 21st. Whereas I used to try and post every single day of a tour, I'm not going to do that anymore. I'll be updating when I can, which may be every other day, or even longer in between. You'll just have to check back often. :)

We're going to South Carolina and Tennessee (mostly the latter), which is great because I love BBQ everything and I have family in TN! I'll get to see them on the very last night of the tour, so I have that to look forward to.

The first five days of tour will be incredibly busy, the middle of tour has four 1-hour shows in four days, and like the beginning of tour, the last several days are crazy-busy. Still, I'm looking forward to it. It's been a long time since our last tour, and I'm playing a LOT of taiko in these 18 days. Since I had a smaller role in our home concert, this will be a good way to end the year.

So stay tuned for pictures, stories, anecdotes, and other frivolities!

Expectation vs. Inspiration

2011-11-21T07:00:00.000-08:00

I'm doing a lot of "this vs. that" posts lately, it seems. Well why stop now?

When you perform, especially when you're doing something by yourself (improv or not, taiko or martial arts), are you doing it from a genuine place? Or are you doing it because you want to impress other people watching you?

Are you more likely to think, "this move is going to be awesome, people are going to love it!" or "I'm having so much fun, I hope people like it!" With the former, there's a sense of expectation, a feeling of you knowing what the audience will like. With the latter, there's a possibility to inspire by playing from the heart.

Mind you, simply playing from the heart doesn't magically inspire a viewer. You have to let it show on your body, your face, your presence. That in itself is a skill! Being a skill, you can get better at it. However, playing with expectations of affecting an audience will only set you up for a false sense of achievement at best, and disappointment at worst.

Showmanship is often a part of the performance, but there's forced humor/theatrics and there's playfulness/style. Knowing which sine of the line you're on isn't always easy, but knowing there's a line to begin with is a start!

Start vs. finish

2011-11-17T07:00:00.000-08:00

What are you more focused on when you do a technique, the initiation or the destination?

My assumption lately is that most people are thinking about the end of a technique. For taiko players, this could be the actual strike on the head, or the end position of a movement. For martial artists, this could be where the punch or kick stops. This isn't necessarily an inherently bad thing, but as I've come to realize in teaching, people are much more aware of what they can see than what they can't.

In karate especially, I constantly tell people to remember what their feet and hips are doing, because it's the first thing to go. They can see their arms and hands all the time so it's easier to focus there, but below their field of vision, yikes! It does happen in taiko as well when people start with the lower body to provide a base, and that base goes away quickly once the drumming begins.

Lately in karate, I've been thinking less about the end of the technique or the execution, and more about the initiation of things. I know how where point B is, I even know how to get from point A to point B. So now I'm exploring that initial motion from point A, where everything begins.

It's led to a very different perspective, one I'm still digesting.

When I used to step through with a punch, I was more thinking of throwing my hips into the attack, lining up the body correctly for support upon impact, and maximizing power through speed. However, when I started thinking of the punch as something that might need to hit someone hard inches after starting it, I found that I threw the technique much faster, much harder. From there, it was simply a matter of continuing the momentum through the step and to the destination. It wasn't easier or harder, but a shifting of effort.

Turning that perspective to taiko, I'm just now starting to experiment with how that concept translates. Instead of thinking about the strike or the motion of the strike, how does the initiation of the motion affect everything else? Do I get more power with it? Is that power what I want?

On top of all that, there's the whole realm of moving I haven't thought about as much either. If I focus on the initiation of a movement, how does it affect pivoting, turning, shifting my weight, etc.? I've got a lot of homework to do...

It's good to analyze and experiment with your technique, but it doesn't always mean you'll find something that you can use. Even finding what doesn't work brings you one step closer to knowing what does!

Who plays better taiko?

2011-11-14T07:00:00.000-08:00

The argument has been made that Japanese play taiko better than non-Japanese. I've heard it from people I like, I've heard it said in different ways, and I've heard it said by both Japanese and non-Japanese alike.

Allow me to completely destroy this argument.

Premise: Japanese play taiko better than non-Japanese.

Problem #1: The overarching problem here is the question of the word "Japanese". Who is Japanese? A person born in Japan? A person who is a citizen of Japan? A person born to Japanese parents? Since this argument in itself could derail the premise, I will say that for this post, a "Japanese" person is one born to Japanese parents who was raised in and lives in Japan.

Problem #2: Let's pick out one of the ~1.25 billion people in Japan and one of the ~7 trillion people from the rest of the world. Oh, looks like you grabbed a 19-year-old athlete from the Netherlands and a 85-year-old Japanese coma patient. Not a good comparison, right? Looks like we'll have to modify our premise.

Premise 2.0: Given generally good health and within a reasonable age range, Japanese play taiko better than non-Japanese.

Problem #3: Digging into the pool again, let's say you come up with a percussionist or dancer from one, and a couch potato from the other. Well that's not fair either, no matter which way you look at it, right? Not a fair comparison if one side has a great advantage before they even get to a taiko.

Premise 3.0: Given generally good health and within a reasonable age range, a Japanese taiko player plays taiko better than a non-Japanese taiko player.

Problem #4: You would never compare a beginning student to a master, would you? There might be a few exceptions, but most people doing taiko for a few months aren't going to have the abilities of someone who's been doing it for over ten years.

Problem #5: Let's say you play in a community taiko group that meets a couple of times a month. Would you compare yourself to someone in Kodo? Why the hell would you do that? You silly. Groups with radically different expectations and standards gives us the apples-to-oranges situation.

Premise 4.0: Given generally good health and within a reasonable age range, a Japanese taiko player plays taiko better than a non-Japanese taiko player of the same relative time playing, and group focus.

Problem #6: What about types of taiko? Would someone who has mastered naname-style playing but isn't all that good on other types be easily measured against someone who is equally moderate on everything from Odaiko to katsugi okedo?

Premise 5.0: Given generally good health and within a reasonable age range, a Japanese taiko player plays taiko better than a non-Japanese taiko player of the same relative time playing, group focus, and experience on instruments.

Problem #7: What exactly are you judging? A single strike on the taiko? Endurance? Ki? How they play an entire section of a song? How they solo? Are you going to take all of those into account?

Problem #8: Who said you're the judge? The premise indicates a "truth" that one is better than the other, but it's obviously a subjective statement. You may rate highly on ki and ease of striking, but the person next to you might value fluidity and fast chops more.

Problem #9: Intangibles about a "better" or "higher quality" sound by an ethnicity are so subjective and smack of elitism or even racism. I've yet to see a spectrogram or waveform of one taiko player shown to be "better" than another due to mathematical qualities. You can show me who's a technically better throat singer through a spectrograph because it's based on harmonics, but I may still like the person who's less technical because of their style. See #8, above.

Problem #10: Who said you can't enjoy both players? Think of a music genre you like. Are there more than one artist or group in that genre that you like? Even if you find one is "better" than the other in your eyes, you're still enjoying both, right? So then does it really matter who's "better"?

So here's what we're at:

Premise 6.0: Given generally good health and within a reasonable age range, a Japanese taiko player plays taiko better than a non-Japanese taiko player of the same relative time playing, group focus, and experience on instruments, assuming the people who are judging said players have the same sensibilities and preferences.

Wow. What a crappy premise. I suggest these instead:

Premise: Qualifying who plays better taiko than whom is about as productive as eating soup with a toothpick.

Premise: Taiko is fun. Yay!

Review: 4th Annual International Body Music Festival

2011-11-10T07:00:00.000-08:00

Last weekend, I attended my first International Body Music Festival in SF. It's a almost a week full of workshops and performances from artists around the world, and run by Keith Terry, musician and body percussionist extraordinaire.

Last year they held it in Brazil, but the year before it was during our annual retreat. I had to miss SFTD's International Taiko Festival to go this time, but it wasn't much of a contest for me. I see taiko all the time but body percussion is something I'm really curious to learn more about.

It was sort of like the NATC, but not as intense or compact. Although there were workshops and performances throughout the week, I only experienced one day - Saturday - from morning until late night. What follows is an accounting of my experiences, which might be boring to some of my readers, but this blog is also for me! :)

There were eight possible workshops: four time slots of 75 minutes each, and two possible worshops per slot. The first session had the workshop I was really jazzed about. The Stepping group Molodi started off getting us in a big circle for some call-and-repeat off of one of the members, then moved into learning some interlocking patterns. I found the material easy enough for me to get quickly and it was the most fun I had across all the workshops. The energy and personality of the group was infectious, keeping the workshop abuzz and a lot of fun.

Second workshop was from Korpu Kantu, a Greek group with an Italian leader. (Not sure if he was the leader, but he led the workshop.) For me, the learning curve for this workshop was like a 45-degree line that sometimes pointed straight up! We focused on an 11/8 rhythm, which is so not intuitive to my brain. The first pattern we did used clapping and stepping, which I was able to get ok, but the second pattern was all hands (clapping, snapping, chest hitting) and without my body to connect the movements, I kept losing the sequence. I would get it at times, but then they had us walk around and interact and I had to stop moving just to have a chance at the sequence. After that we took the first pattern and turned it from 11/8 to 12/8, which went ok...until they sped it up to a high speed where I lost it again. Although I found parts of the workshop frustrating, it was more because of the pacing than the instruction. I know if I work on the patterns, I'll understand them better. But still...11? 11 sucks. Heh.

Third workshop was by KeKeÇa, a Turkish group. The difficulty here was extremely low and the pace really slow, but their style and personalities made everything a lot of fun. Their style tends towards the slower side of rhythm which at first seems too simple but allows for a lot of character to emerge and a layers of complexity. We spent time on simple patterns in three, four, and five. We split into groups and were asked to pick a 3-syllable word/phrase to use in our pattern, and the KeKeÇa member in my group liked my "Got Taiko?" shirt and used that as our phrase. Ha! This was an interesting workshop that challenged my perception of rhythm - by taking things much slower - but also kept me highly entertained through the members themselves and the humor throughout.

The last workshop was run by Sandy Silva, who reminded me a lot of PJ in her style of teaching. She had us all sit down and tell our names, backgrounds, and what we wanted to get out of the workshop. I must have missed out on where the workshop descriptions were posted; I picked workshops based on the bios/videos of the teachers and the title of the workshop. This workshop was directed at educators and teachers, so I think I might have learned more in the other workshop, but I appreciated how Sandy taught her workshop. Although the patterns themselves were pretty simple (three patterns with singing on top), since I'm still really new to the world of body percussion, it was good to get a sense of different styles and options.

A long dinner break later, the concert was held. I got a seat center row 4, two leaps away from the stage. I'll summarize the acts as best as I can remember (not quite in order):

- Danny "Slapjazz" Barber did hambone as the opening act, and made me wish I could have taken his workshop as well! He showed some real mastery of the art and had such a great style that even just sitting in a chair, his presence filled the stage.
- Keith Terry did a solo performance as he usually does, and is always such an entertainer. I've seen him in action maybe a dozen times and although I recognize stylistic things he likes to do, I really like how he does them! To me he embodies what I really love about body percussion.
- There was a beatbox solo, which was the first time I've ever seen beatboxing live. It seems like something I could enjoy doing, but he was clearly damned good at it!
- Slamdance, Keith's current group, did a long multi-part performance full of shapes, rhythms, and a cappella vocals. Although interlocking polyrhythms were featured, I really appreciated the group movements and how they used the space of the stage while doing all the other stuff.
- Cambuyón is a group from the Canary Islands and had three of their members in this show, each member specializing in drumming, dancing, or singing. The vocal component was interesting, simulating musical instruments amongst the rest of the body percussion.
- There was a commission for this show, performed by three artists (and at times an accompanying musician/percussionist). It was to feature three different foot percussion/dance styles through several pieces, and did a good job but my critical eye (and ear) did catch a few mistakes! I found myself really liking the addition of the Québécois singer/percussionist, probably because it was completely new to me.
- KeKeÇa performed a few pieces but I found myself wanting something faster at times. It was interesting, however, to recognize that feeling in myself and tell myself to take in the experience. In the end I found that I really did enjoy their performance and am glad they were able to get me to appreciate a very different style!
- The final group was Çudamani, doing Indonesian Kecak and quite a bit more. I expected it to be "just" Kecak and variations, but since I don't know much about it to begin with, I had no idea what they would do. They combined Kecak, body percussion, and choreography with a very genuine, playful energy that lit up the stage and the audience.

So what do I take away from all this? I want to explore what sorts of body percussion can be incorporated into taiko, even if it turns out not to be something the group can/would do. I also want to look more into Stepping for my own purposes. The festival goes to Istanbul next year so I'll have to wait until 2013, but I really want to go again!

If you can check out any of these artists or the festival sometime, I have nothing but the highest recommendations for them all. A taiko player could learn a lot from just watching this stuff, let alone taking workshops: how to feel rhythms, how to move your body, interlocking patterns, odd time signatures, interpreting rhythm through movement, etc.

So yeah, I liked it. :)

Teachers

2011-11-07T07:00:00.000-08:00

Lately I've been thinking about teachers and teaching.

In karate, I have a sensei and usually one or two senior students (sempai) that can tell me what I'm doing wrong when they watch my technique during class. Instant feedback. I can also go to either one of them and ask, "what should I be doing when I do this?" They'll give me the "correct" answer, but also their take on why it's that way plus any nuances they've discovered. I feel like even though I put a lot of thought into my karate, they can fill in the blanks of the stuff I haven't figured out yet.

Then we come to taiko. I always considered Roy and PJ to be my sensei, although we don't use the term in the group. It's not that sort of vibe. But when I had something lacking in my technique or had a question about the whys and hows, they would be who would give me the "answers" as best they could. Although Roy and PJ are still around, they're not at our practices and it's taken me a while to realize...I don't really have a teacher anymore!

It's a weird feeling. Does it mean I'm the teacher now? Does it mean that I can't learn things from the current people in charge? Would it be different if Roy and PJ were still active in the group? Lots of questions abound in my head.

Of course I listen to the current leaders of the group, but I feel that instead of "instruction" I get "feedback". I think it's in part due to being a senior member that doesn't require a lot of attention, as well as me being in the group longer than they have. It's not bad by any means, but it's definitely a different feel. I've always been a huge proponent of learning on your own, but now I find that it's a necessity for me where it used to be optional or supplementary.

What about you? Who do you rely on currently to make you a better artist? What happens if they're no longer available? Are you developing the ability now to help you grow later on without them? It can be a scary thing to think of yourself teacher-less, but better to plan for it now then to deal with it unprepared...

Backgrounds

2011-11-03T07:00:00.000-07:00

This past weekend we had our annual Open Auditions, where we invite those who are interested in joining the company to go through a comprehensive set of exercises. We look for a lot of things, but also we realize that people generally don't come with a lot of prior experience.

For years, I've given some thought about backgrounds and previous experience that people bring into taiko. I've seen dancers, percussionists, martial artists, actors, singers...

- Dancers seem to have an easier time initially, especially in groups that use any sort of body movement or choreography. Knowing how their body moves gives them a big advantage early on, if they're able to understand what's different and what to change. It also seems to me that dancers are already used to expressing themselves through movement, since that's part of most dancing arts. "Dance" is a big category and encompasses everything from ballet to modern to hip-hop, but I can easily tell when people in a group have a dance background within a few movements. In a good way!

- Percussionists often have a harder start in some taiko groups, which sounds weird at first. I mean, taiko is percussion in large part, right? What's hard is making a percussionist move their hands away from the drum, not lean over, etc. But once the initial learning curve is passed, I see some great things that percussionists bring to the table - stick control, speed, rhythms, etc. Those tend to be the harder things to teach to others, because unlike larger movements, what the hands do is harder to see, breakdown, and copy at times. A percussionist might even be able to pull off staying still at a drum and just pulling out some great stuff without needing a lot of movement, if they have that presence and ki instilled in them.

- Martial artists don't seem to be very common in the taiko world, which I think is interesting. On paper, the skills required to be a good martial artist seem to match that of being a good taiko player. Most martial arts have a strong foundation in a grounded stance of some sort and learning how to move from that stance translates easily into movement in taiko. Whether the art is something fluid or more direct, there's also an awareness of the body gained in most martial arts. And finally, projection of ki/qi is a major component of most arts, perfect for use in taiko depending on the mood of a piece.

- Singers may not get to utilize their skills that much, much like actors/actresses. There may be times when your group has a song or acting component, but there's still something to be said for stage presence and being comfortable being in front of an audience. Presence can be a huge element on stage, turning a simple part into something that draws people's eyes to you and in an enjoyable way.

Mind you, all of these things are generally positives but some habits are hard to break. When you have someone with things in their background that they've been doing for a while, it can hard for them to fight muscle memory!

I hear people say they don't have the skills that people who are just starting in taiko have. Sure, there are people who have a higher skill set when they start taiko than others but it's what they do with it that counts. When I started, I was stiff, I overhit, my hands weren't all that fast, and the only advantage I really had was that I could reach drums that were far apart, ha.

Look at the background you brought into your art. If you're not reaping the rewards from it now, why not? What do you think will do it? And if you feel you don't have anything that you brought with you, what are you learning NOW that you will be able to utilize later on?

Soloing, part 5-2: Rhythms on multiple drums

2011-10-31T07:00:00.000-07:00

With this post I want to continue the idea I started in my last thread: focusing on the rhythms we make when we solo. It's easy enough to break things down when there's just one drum, but what about when there's two or more?

Maybe you'll get to play a chudaiko next to a couple of shimedaiko, or have a Sukeroku-style setup. Playing more than one drum brings with it a lot more to deal with, and forgetting ki or kata for the moment, I want to talk about the three biggest hurdles that come up with this way of playing.

A weak rhythm on one is even weaker on two.

This is where I was leading into with the last post. A rhythm that's hard for a listener to follow on one drum is going to be even more difficult when it's spread out over multiple tones. Again, look at your solo as if it was being notated. Is it well-rounded? Well-constructed? That's the kind of rhythm you can spread out over different tones.

Don't freak out!

Especially when multiple drums are new, a really common thing to do is to play in a sort of "panic" mode, where you're hitting as many surfaces as you can as often as you can. Unless someone has told you to play that way, it's better to calm down and realize you just have more options, not more requirements. Play the other drums when you want to!

More tones ≠ more skill.

Riding shotgun with the comment above, just because you *can* play a lot of surfaces at once doesn't always mean you should. It may seem like you're adding a level of complexity to your solo, but it often just results in chaos.

Think about what tones you're facing. Is one of them significantly lower? Maybe less notes on that to make more of an impact. Something higher pitched? That's probably going to cut through, so you can maybe use it to play denser patterns or sparse notes for emphasis. Find a purpose for the tones you're presented with so that your solo is not only entertaining, but intelligent.

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If you really think about it, one drum can present you with a lot of opportunities for different tones. The center of the drum head, the outer part of the drum head, the rim, the tacks, the body, pressing down on the head while playing, etc.

How you think about rhythm will determine the quality of what your solos sound like. Just ask yourself, are you playing the drums? Or are you playing rhythms on the drums?

picture via terrybozzio.com

Soloing, part 5-1: Rhythms

2011-10-27T07:00:00.001-07:00

You think about your solos, right? Do you think about how they sound as a rhythm?

I realize most taiko players don't read Western notation, but you can still think of your solos as patterns that you could graph out with simple marking. The important thing here is to be able to visualize your solo in terms of the musical notes, as if someone were closing their eyes and just listening.

Take a song that you solo in. What does your solo look like - musically - if someone were to notate it on paper somehow? Does it look like it's aware of the downbeat or does it sound "lost"? Is it repetitive? Are there a lot of the same patterns? Is it chaotic? Are there mostly new things one after the other? Is it clever? Is it too clever? Is is simple? Is it too simple? Are the patterns dense? When they are, is it the same kind of pattern making that density or is there variety?

I'll stop there, but those are the types of things you should notice in your own mental "notation". To me, rhythm becomes "noise" when there's no sense of repetition or recognizable patterns. There's a difference in someone attempting to play something identifiable as a rhythm but failing, and someone who's on beat but so all over the place that it's a mental chore to follow along. The former is like driving with someone who speeds up here, slows down there, and doesn't always use their signal, but you know they know where they're going. The latter is someone who obeys all the rules of the road, but it seems like they're lost the entire time.

I did write a post here about musicality in soloing, and this is definitely a similar post, but I'm mainly setting up things for the next part come Monday. Still, why not take some time until then and think about it?

Question Everything: The creative process

2011-10-24T21:14:00.000-07:00

After our annual concerts, we get together the very next day to watch one of the videos for fun and then we review the process as a group in a discussion format.

The creative process in general was brought up and we spent some time talking about things like deadlines, comfort level and balance.

Before a performance, how much practice does your group need before you feel "comfortable" doing it? And if you're not comfortable, what happens if you still have to do it? Will you freak out or sell it as best you can? Does your group ensure that people are generally comfortable or is that left up to the individual?

Which is worse in your eyes: to be over-prepared to the point where creativity stagnates and safety becomes a crutch, or to be constantly creating and never having a solid performance and causing group anxiety? Extremes perhaps, but do you lean one way or the other?

I've been talking about the creative process on a macro level, a group level, but it can also apply to the individual. Think about a new song that you have to solo in. Will you spend a lot of time choreographing something that you polish over time, or do you practice enough to get a general feel of what the piece "feels" like and let yourself improvise creatively as you play it?

If you're the former, what if you have a lot of new songs and you simply don't have the time to set so many solos? Is the safety net you're used to having now a liability because you can't have it? If you're the latter and have many new solos, can you be solid in every solo with all the different set ups and moods? Will your improvisation just be a lot of the same movements and rhythms adjusted to fit the song in order to not falter?

I'm not giving much in the way of my opinion on this post because I really want people to ask themselves where they stand. There's no right or wrong as much as there should be awareness and understanding. Safety and chaos can be just as useful as they can be crippling!

Yak yak yak

2011-10-20T07:00:00.000-07:00

Here's something to ponder. If you took all the time you spent at practice socializing and instead had spent it practicing on something, how much better do you think you'd be by now? How many hours would that total up to? Days?

I'm not going to say people shouldn't socialize or that it's a waste of time, because I know for some groups that's a BIG part of why people play taiko. What I'm getting at is when people default to doing it because that's what they always do.

Just ask yourself what you would rather do when you get to practice. Practice? Or talk? Which one will make you a better player? No, that's not a trick question, it's a question of priorities. To some people, to some groups, that socialization really makes the group stronger. And I have absolutely no problem with that, I really don't!

It's a shame when people who could (and often should) be practicing choose instead to chat with people that they see all the time. And then during practice. And then after practice. And repeat. Maybe I'm just more anti-social then I think (which is already a decent amount), but I don't get it.

Would I rather talk about sports or make my diddles stronger? Watch YouTube videos or figure out a new solo move? It's not that I'm "better" because I usually choose to practice rather than socialize - it's what I want to do and so I do it. Heck yeah I'm biased. :)

If you feel your taiko experience will be richer for having spent more time chatting, then you should choose that path. As usual, I'm just posing a question and asking people to reconsider what they take for granted. Don't wish you had more time to practice something when you spent it all being social...

Wasted motion

2011-10-17T07:00:00.000-07:00

When I watch black belts train alongside lower belts, the biggest difference isn't in power or speed or even confidence, although all of those do apply. It's that the black belts tend to be more efficient.

When using the body, a black belt generally knows how to use their body to get from point A to point B with as little superfluous motion as possible. Someone still learning will add all sorts of needless motions, even miniscule ones.

Now, I'm not neglecting that a black belt will also have developed muscle that allows them greater speed, or that repetition of an action helps to do it faster with familiarity. There's just no denying that the more needless motion you whittle off, the faster, the stronger, and the more effective your techniques will be.

For those who have played taiko for at least a year or so, remember when you first played doro tsuku and it was hard to get your arms to be in the right place to ensure proper dynamics? And then in time, you streamlined the movements somewhat? This is exactly what I'm talking about.

So where am I going with this? Two points:

- "Flourish" often just hides bad technique.

I see a lot of players who add body shifts and arm flaps and bachi spins and twirls when they play who have weak striking, a bad sense of body awareness, or both. I want to take those people and make them play "still". No more movement than is necessarily to play the pattern. I want to isolate how much their extra motion hides their weak spots.

Perhaps some people do this on purpose, because they know they don't have the technique they should? It's possible, but still a waste.

- Don't wait for someone to tell you that you're wasting motion.

Look at your own technique. Does your bachi point back towards you on a basic strike? That just means you have to use extra energy to throw it forward. Are you finding your feet leave the ground when you push off? Whenever you're in the air, you're at the mercy of gravity and momentum. Maybe keeping contact will save you energy and time, and still allow you all the benefits you need.

When you think "I'm pretty efficient when I...", that's when you have to look at whatever it is again. I'm sure the lower belts think they're doing pretty good before they have a black belt point things out to them. And the black belts think THEY'RE doing pretty good before their teachers point things out to them.

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I love adding my own flair to my motions, especially during a solo. There's a BIG difference, however, in adding extra flavor to a good dish versus throwing a bunch of extra spices on it because the meat is rancid. Food for thought!

Extracting meaning.

2011-10-13T07:00:00.000-07:00

Imagine going to a museum or exhibit and coming across a series of paintings.

Some of them are photo-realistic, looking as if they could have been enlarged photographs. Some of them are harder to get right away, but you recognize what the artist was trying to get at. Some of them you look at but you have no idea what's going on.

Now think of those paintings as taiko pieces. Some of them are easily "understood". A festival piece, or perhaps an odaiko piece. Then you have some that are supposed to invoke imagery, like the ocean or teamwork. Then you have some that are conceptual, that tell a story through positions or emotion.

Some people will prefer the first kind. Just clearly tell them what you want them to get, and they're happy. They may not like the song, but they don't want to spend time figuring it out. Other people appreciate clever ways to interpret things in ways that may surprise them. Then there are some who will enjoy spending energy analyzing what the heck they're watching, even if they don't arrive at an answer.

There's nothing wrong with disliking certain types of songs either, and that's the real point of my post here. Most people like the first two categories of taiko. It's rare that someone doesn't want some songs to be simple in meaning. It's also rare for someone to not enjoy a creative imagining of a theme. But if you find a song that you don't "get", how much time will you spend trying to figure it out?

Aside from a song that's so "out there" that it's almost trying to confuse you, when do you give up on trying to figure things out? How much tolerance do you have when the meaning of a piece isn't handed to you in a convenient package? What does that say about you?

Not every song will be something you appreciate, but what do you have to lose by extracting meaning from it? What was the composer trying to say? Did it work? Did it make you think? Why or why not?

It's one thing not to like something abstract, but going in with a "I don't have the patience for this" or "I don't get it, it's stupid" attitude really reflects more on you. Don't be that kind of person, expand your perspectives!

"Bert Drip Painting" by Tommervik

From the center.

2011-10-10T07:00:00.000-07:00

Let's take a look at your hara, shall we?

Moving from your center, or hara, is at the core of nearly every martial art, and once it becomes second nature to tap into it, nearly every technique you execute becomes stronger and easier. It's also something I see a lot of players struggle with, either because their group doesn't talk about it or they haven't had the opportunity to really incorporate it into their playing.

Think about your body as a unit. If you just play with your arms and keep the rest of your body still, you're using a lot of energy to maintain tension when you could be using it to strike. Your legs should be used to keep you grounded but not rooted, so that your center has a base to move from. Every move you make should come from your hara, which should then flow out into your limbs. It's a difficult concept that only gets easier with time.

As we ramp up for our annual concert, I've been thinking about technique, especially odaiko technique. I've gotten a couple of comments about how I strike odaiko, that I use my wrists to do most of the work and how I don't use my hara (my center) enough. They're pretty tied together, actually.

I've gotten my striking technique to the point where I'm able to have my hands play pretty much any pattern I can think of, which is great! What I'm realizing though, is that I'm not utilizing my hara as much as I could because of it. Hmm.

It's interesting, because I've always said don't take things for granted and once something gets comfortable, you need to re-examine it and make it better. I knew I was re-examining my striking technique, but only from one angle. I wonder how many other areas I neglect my hara in while playing, simply because I get most of my technique through my wrists? Wrists make for great snap, but when it counts, it's all about the hara.

How much are you aware of your center? How much do you inhibit it? What happens when you don't?

That's not nice...

2011-10-06T07:00:00.000-07:00

In karate, we have a drill called gohan kumite. This translates to "five-step sparring."

Two rows of people partner up. On each count from sensei, row 1 steps forward attacking the assigned area on their partner with the assigned attack. Row 2 steps back, doing the assigned block. This happens for a total of five times, then the roles switch. The goal here is to understand timing and distancing better.

One of the biggest mistakes the attacker can make is to be "nice" to the defender. This happens a lot with newer students. They may pull their punch or punch just off to the side in order not to hit someone who's a little slow. The attacker that purposefully misses the defender in order to be "nice" is actually doing the defender a BIG disservice.

By backing off or aiming elsewhere, the defender gets a false sense of their skill and learns bad habits. Making the defender really work to not get hit is the whole point of the drill! Really being "nice" means giving them an incentive to move faster, block quicker, and focus on technique.

So how does this apply to taiko, where most of us aren't trying to hit each other? (I said most, I don't want to know what some of you collegiate kids do...)

I want you to think of the critique you give others and what you choose not to say. Are there things that you don't tell someone because you want to be "nice" to them? Does keeping that critique from them make them a better player in the end? Or like the defender above, are you helping to instill a false sense of skill?

In previous posts, I've talked a lot about making comments and giving feedback. It all still applies! Just think about the next time you avoid making a comment in order to be "nice" to someone. Are you really helping them?

Standards and comments

2011-10-03T07:00:00.000-07:00

What standards do you set for yourself? Are they reflected in the comments you give to others?

If you tell someone not to get off tempo but then you're prone to it yourself, why should they take you seriously?

If you bring attention to a small detail of kata or formation when there are bigger issues at hand, don't you think it's fair if people question your judgement?

If you don't act on the comments other people give you, why should they listen to yours?

Do you listen only to the comments you get that fit nicely into your priorities? Or do you make a note (physical or mental) about all the things you've gotten comments about?

Hell, no one's perfect. We can't all be the best, shining example for everyone every time. But there are some things you can do.

When you give a comment to someone or to the group about an issue, best to ask yourself if you're guilty of it first! If you are, then you might want to admit to it as you give your comment. However, even if you're not guilty of it, don't be smug about it.

When you're watching something to make comments about it, first ask yourself, what details are really important here? If people are having issues with sequence and you're mentioning one person's bachi angle, who does that help? Are you burning to tell your comment because it's really going to help or because you just want to sound knowledgeable?

When you get comments, do you only pick the ones you like? Only the ones that are convenient? Or do you try to also implement the ones that are going to be harder and require work? If people see you trying to implement others' comments, you're showing that you take comments seriously.

It's not just what your comments are, it's also how you present your comments. And to top it off, it's then also about what you do with the comments you get, as well.

The standards that you expect other people to meet you should also impose on yourself.

Fix it before you break it.

2011-09-29T07:00:00.000-07:00

I'm good at seeing problems. Well hooray for me! I want to make things better, and to do that I first have to identify what needs work.

PJ once gave me the comment that while it was great that I was able to bring up issues that needed attention, I wasn't offering any solutions. And she was right. It really changed my perspective on how I thought of "problems."

A "problem" in your group isn't just your group's problem, it's also your problem. If you complain about something, you should also be obligated to come up with a reasonable solution to it. How come? Because otherwise you're just the annoying person that complains all the time. People will quickly stop listening to your issues, no matter how valid they may be once you become that person.

Mind you, just having a solution doesn't mean it's going to be received well. That's up to a lot of variables like group dynamics, your presentation of the idea, etc. Not making the extra step to come up with a possible solution, however, is just being lazy. Having said that, sure there are times when you just don't have a solution, because you're in a lose-lose situation or don't have enough information to make a choice - but I bet for the majority of the time, you can come up with something.

Put more thought into how to fix something than into how much you have an issue with it, and you've essentially changed your frame of mind. Is it easy to do that? No. The path to bettering yourself rarely is.

Mouthful of sprinkles

2011-09-26T07:00:00.000-07:00

Basics are boring. No one goes to see you perform and gets dazzled by your basics. What impresses the audience is when you flip your bachi, or when you show off a fancy new trick.

Right?

Yeah...no. Totally wrong.

While it's true that people don't go to see you play to watch how even your beats are, people will enjoy what you play a LOT more if you have a solid foundation first.

Fill a solo with tricks does entertain the audience to a degree, sure. It also takes some skill to pull them off well. But when they're there as a substitute for solid playing, that's when I have issues.

If you want to throw your bachi in the air for the wow factor, great! But if you can't stay on tempo during the rest of your solo, then all you've done is shown me that your priorities are askew. It's like giving me a poorly-baked cupcake with some awesome-tasting sprinkles on it!

If you really want to "wow" an audience, be a solid player who can show a wide range of skills. Strike cleanly, place notes with purpose, shine your ki outwards, and play from a genuine place.

Also in this realm are songs written with a similar intent behind them, to impress through tricks. After a few rounds, those tricks get old fast. And if the song is just a vehicle to deliver sprinkles, why not just give me a mouthful of sprinkles? Saves us both time. :)

It's fun to show off or throw a party trick in there every now and then, but are you doing it because it's a highlight of your solo or because it's really all you have to offer?

Drill: Beyond tired

2011-09-22T07:00:00.000-07:00

You can stretch and warm up before practicing, but to truly know your body, you have to know it when it's tired.

Past your perfect kata, past your piercing ki, past your second wind...that's where you find out what lessons you've really absorbed. That's when you start having to use your body - especially your hara - if you want to keep playing.

It's somewhat of a two-part experience. First you have to get to that point and then you'll find out how long you can last. I suggest getting there gradually, not within two minutes of playing but by however long it takes. Once you feel the urge to back off because it's getting "hard", that's when you want to keep pushing.

On occasion I'll go into the studio and spend an hour just to push my limits. 15 minutes on katsugi okedo, 15 minutes on assorted drums (trap-set style), 15 minutes on a Yodan Uchi-style set up, and 15 minutes on odaiko. Every time I'm finished, I'm beat. Really truly beat. But there's a satisfaction in that exhaustion, knowing I pushed harder than I did the last time and knowing that if I have to push that hard in a performance, I can still go strong.

Sometimes it's really best to do this alone, simply because it's going to reveal a very personal side of yourself. It's humbling and it can make you feel vulnerable, but it's also a chance to feel growth through physical exertion. Some people do this through running, but if you can do it through what you're already trying to get better at, why not go that route?

I realize not everyone has the chance to go into their studio by themselves, or even have a studio to go to. The alternative then is during practice, to not hold back, to not take it as a "practice" but to treat it like the last performance you'll ever have. You want to go out with a bang, right? You just might have a lot of bang down the line...

Pacing ourselves helps keep us playing for the long term. However, to know what you're truly capable of and to reveal the true performer underneath the surface, push yourself!

That damned loop of progression...

2011-09-19T07:00:00.000-07:00

The better I get as a player, the more I notice how bad I am.

It may sound like a non sequitur, but it actually makes a lot of sense.

As my critical eye (and ear) get more honed, I find I become more aware of just what I need to work on. Where I used to hear a solid straight beat, I now hear tiny imperfections between hits or minute straying from the tempo. Where I used to myself playing complex syncopation in the pocket, I now hear when it dances *just* outside the beat it should have been on. It's frustrating!

But I know progress follows that "loop of progression" - like I posted about here. It's just easier to talk about than to actually be experiencing! The only thing to do is acknowledge what I'm hearing and make it better so that what I'm playing feels right again.

I often write about my theories and perspectives, but I think it's good to let people know that it's usually all from what I personally experience, struggle, and work through. Persevere!

History and "truth"

2011-09-15T07:00:00.000-07:00

There's a lot of talk about the history of taiko and taiko songs bubbling amongst the online taiko community right now. Who has permission to play song X? Where did song Y come from? Who represents group Z?

It got me thinking about how the history of karate and certain kata (forms) and how the two arts of taiko and karate share similar...issues, if you will.

In karate's past, there have been people who have claimed they were taught by a famous teacher, who know special techniques, or make themselves of a higher rank out of the blue. Taiko has the whole "what is traditional?" hoo-ha and karate has "what is practical?".

For Shotokan karate in particular, we have about 25 different kata created by 6-7 different people. Kata 10 can look and feel nothing like kata 11-14, which in turn look and feel nothing like kata 15, and so on. Each "composer" made kata with their own sensibilities in mind and then all of them were put under the Shotokan umbrella. Add to this that each style of karate (of which I'd guess there are about 12 "main" styles) can easily have their own version of half (or more) of those kata, modified by their founder and/or influential teachers...

For my dojo, we're required to interpret the moves contained in each kata at the higher levels. What does this stance teach? Where would you use this move or this sequence? What was the creator of this kata trying to teach us? These questions wouldn't be such a big deal except for a confession by a highly-respected master that came to teach a seminar.

He basically confessed that some of the kata moves were made "because they looked good." What?!?! So we're trying to interpret the "hidden meaning" behind moves that never had them to begin with? What a twisted joke...

So how do I parallel this with taiko? Simply that there are a lot of misconceptions and people choosing to believe what's convenient, rather than seeking the truth for themselves. Mind you, I'm not saying all of you don't know the truth, or saying I know more than the next person. What I want people to come away with here is that we can't ever just assume that what our group tells us is "the truth". Your group might think it's the truth, but you can't assume it. Where did that song you play come from? Who gave you and your group permission to play it? What context is appropriate for that song?

It may sound like weird advice, but next time someone tells you any sort of taiko history, do some homework and figure out whether or not it's true or not. Find out who's got the real information and who can deliver it without bias. Those are the people you want to listen to. But even then - don't get lazy!

Seek out the truth!

What do audiences want?

2011-09-12T07:00:00.000-07:00

Some of you will probably know of the group Kodo. For those that don't, they're my favorite taiko group that I'm not in and I've been a HUGE fan since...ever. Yeah. :)

Recently, Kodo just took on a new Artistic Director, Tamasaburo Bando. Who he is isn't important for purposes of this post, but he's the first Artistic Director Kodo's had that came from outside the performing group. In his welcoming message, he says this:

"It is needless to say how difficult it is to create productions that not only satisfy audiences, but also challenge them. Therein lies the crux of my responsibilities as artistic director."

So that's the question for this post. What would you rather do as a performer, satisfy or challenge your audience? What would you want as an audience member? Are they different?

I've seen pieces where the players are being too clever, and the audience doesn't get to enjoy the performance - or worse, they can lose interest, feel cheated, etc. However, to satisfy an audience by only giving them the same things over and over guarantees your group can never truly grow and your audience can only respect you so much.

So yes, the easy answer to the question lies somewhere in the middle. But since the perfect middle is impossible to achieve, which side do you lean towards and why?

(NA)TC?

2011-09-08T07:00:00.000-07:00

North American Taiko Conference. I know it well!

Today I want to talk about the first half of NATC. No, not Thursday and Friday, but literally the first half of NATC, "North American".

I've heard people say they want more instructors from Japan to come out and teach workshops at NATC. It's also hard to get new groups to play at Taiko Jam from North America; we're re-cycling groups that have played once or twice before. Also, there is both more access to and more awareness of taiko outside of North America that isn't from Japan.

So how important is the NA to NATC?

First, looking at data from previous conferences, Japanese workshop leaders don't get any higher scores than anyone else. So would having more be a better thing? The data doesn't support it. Second, at previous Taiko Jams, when we invited Japanese artists, I overheard comments from people who really wished we would showcase North American groups since that was the purpose of NATC (hence the name?)

Now, even though I bring up those examples, I'm not quite decided where I stand. On one hand, if we drop the NA, we can have groups from all over the world play at Taiko Jam. It would be nice to keep NA-focused, but a little bit of "other" exposure is quite welcome! (I'm looking at you, Kagemusha Taiko!) Inviting more instructors from Japan is fine by me as long as it's worth the money to have them here and they provide quality instruction to those attending their workshops.

Maybe we just need to pick the right name. How about NATC+ or "North American Taiko Conference and then some"? It's more about finding the purpose of the conference and making sure it's serving the needs of the NA taiko community. It can't be all things to all people, but if we're all on the same page, it can only get better!

Soloing, part 4: Movement

2011-09-05T07:00:00.000-07:00

Movement is scary. Let me qualify that. Improvised movement is scary. Right?

It's one thing to keep your hands near the drum and play whatever rhythms you want, that's "safe". Why is it safe? Beats me, but a see a lot of newer players doing it. If I had to guess, I would say that there's a vulnerability in moving away from the drum, in creating ma, or space/distance. I mean this is drumming, right? If you're not hitting the drum, then what are you doing?

Well first off, moving away from the drum opens up a world of possibilities. You can make shapes with your body, trace patterns, and create new angles simply by moving one foot. You can tell a story or create a character with movement, and make your solo distinct without need for complexity. Simply put, adding movement to your solos makes you a better soloist.

Now when I'm talking about movement, I'm not talking about raising your arm to strike the next note. That's more of a necessity. At the very least, I mean moving your arm off that striking path. Imagine watching 10 taiko solos in a row that didn't have some sort of distinct movement per person, all of them doing nothing more than striking the taiko with cool rhythms. Who's going to stick out? How many will you remember five minutes later?

So let's say I've convinced you to add more movement. Now what? Well...move! The hardest thing about moving in solos is making it part of the story you're trying to tell. It's fine when you're new to taiko to just stick your arms where you're told, but that's not your story. Most of you that solo probably already have some movement, but maybe it's hard to break out of what you're used to.

If you're looking for more abstract ideas about movement, think of angles, curves, planes, sharpness, softness, slow, fast, short, long. If you had to do movements based off any one of those words, what would they look like?

If you're looking for more concrete ideas about movement, think about the "dome" of space over your head. Are you using it much? What about the space directly behind you, have you stepped backwards lately? How about holding a pose for a second or three? Think about your arms, your posture, where your feet are.

One thing that's both fun and freeing is to solo like someone else. If you get enough people to do this as a drill, you can "steal" distinct moves from the soloist before you, and the next soloist will do the same to you. It forces you to move unlike how you normally would. Another thing to try is watch different styles of dance - does a certain kind of dance inspire anything? Spark any ideas?

Explore space. Explore distance. It's not scary at all once you get to know it. You might even like it there!

Superstars

2011-09-01T07:00:00.000-07:00

You can't deny it, we have superstars in taiko!

Who doesn't get a little starstruck wandering around NATC, where you can (literally) bump into people who have founded groups that started it all, created styles of playing that people are still trying to emulate, and/or pioneers of taiko that inspire new generations?

If you play piano and you're really really good at it, you'll be joining a crowd of thousands - probably tens of thousands - of other piano players out there who are also really really good that are trying to get noticed. This is also the case with hip hop, karate, any sort of art form. However, if you're a really really good NA taiko player right now, you're going to get known pretty fast in the community. In itself, there's nothing wrong with that. Where things get tricky is the effect a superstar can have on the taiko community.

A taiko superstar may have more technical expertise than most of us, but opinions are still opinions. If you find yourself agreeing with someone's point of view, you should ask yourself what you're listening to: the opinion or the personality? Does your opinion change when theirs does? Would you agree with someone less "qualified" who had the same opinion? Charisma is a pretty powerful thing, and a superstar may not think of themselves in that way or realize they're putting that charisma out there, but when it's on, it's on.

I try to separate a person's artistic ability from their personality. Someone can have better hands, musical sense, fluidity, presence, et al, and I'll give them credit for that - but that doesn't make their viewpoints better than mine. My viewpoints aren't better than anyone else who may not have the skills I do, right? Works both ways.

As for the superstars themselves, they may not necessarily even want that title! A superstar can be any gender, new to taiko or seasoned, young in age or wise in years. They may be a pretty unassuming sort and still have quite the following. Some may seek it out; others wind up there. Still, there's just no denying the influence that they can have!

I think they have a responsibility to the taiko community to be aware of that sort of power. You can look at studies of the psychology of stardom or celebrity culture and see countless examples of influence on the fans of a superstar. When a superstar voices a strong opinion, they should be aware that they will sway more people to that opinion than if it were the average taiko player saying the same thing. They can use that "power" for good, or it can lead to some ugliness if not handled well. It's a responsibility that they now have, like it or not.

When it comes down to it, no one has all the right answers and everyone needs to find their own truth. It's important to listen to those who have done much and get their perspective on things, but at the end of the day you are responsible for your own words and actions.

Letting someone speak for you is one thing; letting someone THINK for you is inexcusable.

Loop of progression

2011-08-29T07:00:00.000-07:00

What with NATC just behind us, I noticed/heard several comments from people along the lines of "oh there's so much I didn't know I had to learn" or "I didn't realize I was doing it wrong, it's going to take forever to get better."

All of us should have those moments of "I have a lot to learn" and as we keep trying to get better, those moments will keep coming back. Think of a circle, where the top represents simplicity and efficiency. As we learn more and attempt to change what we're used to, we struggle with the new information and it takes time to get back to the top of that circle.

However, notice the title of this post? It's not "Circle of progression", it's "Loop of progression." If all we ever did was get back to our original point, we'd never get better in the long run. And this is where a lot of people get frustrated; they look ahead and see it as a another climb back to where they used to be.

Instead of thinking of a circle where you might wind up back where you started, think of it as a laterally-moving loop. Another way to look at it is a coil that's viewed slightly from the side. You still have the progression that you followed in a circle, but when the next time you get to the top, you've made progress from the last time you were on the top.

Naturally, no one's progression makes any sort of repetitive, tidy pattern. But the concept of the loop of progression can give you a lot of perspective. When you started playing taiko - I'm talking the first week - you took a stick and you made a noise. Then I'm betting things got harder, right? Stance, grip, tempo, all those annoying other factors that got in the way...until you started getting better at them.

When new information gets frustrating, that's when you're at the bottom of the circle. But that bottom just means every step from that point takes you to the top of the next circle, where the cycle begins again. Recognize the patterns and you'll appreciate the journey!

Question Everything: Training in Japan

2011-08-25T07:00:00.000-07:00

Yeah, this is a juicy one.

At NATC 2011 this past weekend, I substituted for Yurika on the panel of the Innovation and Tradition discussion session. Eventually the topic about training in Japan came up and we went on that path for a while. After further debate and reflection on this, I wanted to share my thoughts.

Personally, I don't think it's necessary to train in Japan. I'll just say it right at the beginning. Let me make it clear that I'm not talking about enjoying a week or two for workshops or a festival, but studying there for months to years. Yes, I think it can further a person's appreciation for taiko and improve on one's skills, but necessary? Far from it. Here are the reasons I've heard and why I don't like them:

- Learning taiko in Japan will make you a better player.

That's a really weak argument. If I used that in my debate class, I would have gotten torn apart. Is it magic? I just stay there long enough and *poof* I'm a better player? I know people don't mean that when they use this argument, but still...

- Learning taiko in Japan means learning it from the source.

That doesn't mean it's good instruction. Sure there are taiko masters in Japan, but will you be able to learn from them? Also, what about the language barrier? If you don't speak Japanese fluently, how much are you really going to get out of intense instruction with a Japanese instructor unless they speak your native tongue or have an interpreter?

- Learning taiko in Japan will help you understand/find/play that perfect/right/special sound/tone/quality.

Hmm, maybe. But does that mean that you can't find that/those things without going to Japan? Or that some of those who have been playing taiko in North America for over 30 years, who never trained in Japan, don't have a good quality of sound? Think about all the taiko players around the world that have never studied in Japan. Do none of them have an ability to find a "good sound"? Will it really take them longer to find it unless they go to Japan?

Also, and I touch on this later, but what is that "sound"? Is it Japanese? If so, ask yourself why that would be important to you as a NA (or non Japanese-taiko player). Is it universal? If so, then do we not have the ability or the instructors here to find it ourselves?

- Learning taiko in Japan will help you understand where the true roots of taiko come from, and you can't truly experience that unless you go there.

I can buy a little bit of that, but where would I go to train? Which style will give me the best understanding? For how long do I need to be there for? Do I need to go to multiple people? If you seek out a particular style, this is a much easier point, but to generalize it is another weak argument.

- Look at (insert taiko player here), they went to Japan and they're an awesome taiko player now!

What we'll never know is if they would have been as awesome had they continued training here/not gone to Japan. Were they "awesome" before they left but got better, or were they only "awesome" after they came back? Those awesome taiko players are really small handful of the taiko population, and like my first point above, just going to Japan doesn't make anything happen. There needs to be skills learned, the ability to ingrain them, and the right teacher to instill them.

Those are the main reasons I hear to go travel to Japan to learn taiko, but there are a bunch of other issues:

- About 99% of North American taiko players will never go to Japan to train not because of lack of interest, but how many people can afford to travel to and live in Japan for the time it takes to truly learn something? What about family, school, jobs, bills, etc.? How do I know it's 99%? It's an educated guess. How many taiko players from your group are spending months in Japan learning taiko?

- What if 99% of NA taiko players did go to Japan and spent years learning how to play Japanese-style taiko? What then happens to the sound and style of NA taiko? Would there be a risk of everyone sounding the same? What are the qualities of NA taiko that could be lost?

- What about what's available HERE? We have grandmasters and luminaries in taiko right HERE, available to most all of us. It might take a little bit of money and some planning, but you can fly out nearly any taiko player to teach you or go to them. It's much cheaper and way more feasible than going to Japan.

- Why just study taiko? Why not dance or martial arts or western drumming or a dozen other things that can add to your skill set? Cross-training is extremely valuable in sports, and in martial arts it's very common to find really high-ranking practitioners who know multiple styles. Why limit it to *just* taiko in *just* Japan?

I really wish I had thought of half of this stuff during the discussion session, but hey, that's what the blog is for!

Please don't get me wrong; I'm not upset at those who want to go to Japan to study. I'm also not upset when people say "go study in Japan," if they mean it as encouragement and not as a platitude. If you can do it, go for it! I just want us to think about what it really means to tell someone to go do it, as well as what else we can do if we don't get that opportunity.

North American Taiko Conference 2011 aftermath!

2011-08-22T17:00:00.000-07:00

Another NATC behind us! Welcome to all of you who are new to the site (both of you, ha!)

And now, time to reflect. I'll just throw out some of my observations and highlights from the past four days:

The newer you are to taiko, the more eager you are to get up (on stage) and play. Nothing bad about that, just an observation. :)
For those who were new to conference, getting very little sleep meant you were doing it right!
The ones who make the conference run smoothly are the ones you see the least.
You can never really thank enough the ones who started it all.
Everyone who participates say they want more workshops, but by the end of the third one, people are pretty wiped.
Discussion sessions need to be tweaked. It should be less about the panelists, and have more interaction with the audience. Maybe fewer panelists per session?
I hope something I said in all my babbling on said panels turns out to help someone.
Although the lunches were pretty sad, the reception food always rocks!
I'm not a "classic" or a "luminary" but I really really value being able to talk with those who are. It means a lot to me to be able to joke around with them and feel like they respect me.
I remember 80% of the faces and 20% of the names. That should equal 100% but it never works like that!
Have to play with okedo bachi length and have some new chappa technique to work on.
New workshop idea: Karate and taiko (body mechanics, presence).
Old workshop idea that I really should look into: Teaching a workshop for taller players.
I have a big sack of blog post ideas from the last four days.
FUN!

I'm sure there's a few more things that might come up; this list is not comprehensive and I might add to it in the next couple of days.

Thanks to all of you who came out! See you in...72o-ish days! :)

North American Taiko Conference 2011!

2011-08-18T07:00:00.000-07:00

It's on!

This conference is the first in many that I'm not leading a workshop, but I am assisting one and I'm also...well, let's just say you'll all see me before I see most of you. :)

If you're at the conference and you like my blog, please come let me know! If you don't like my blog, no need to come tell me. Heh.

Let the fun begin!

Surprise?

2011-08-15T07:00:00.000-07:00

Imagine watching a taiko player who is covered from head to toe in a unisex outfit and wearing a mask. You have no idea what gender, race, or age they are. You're impressed by how good they are. At the end of the performance, they take off the mask and you're surprised to see that they're really...

You fill in the blank. Why are you surprised? ;)

(I stole this from a recent Facebook thread in the North American Taiko Community. It was a reply I made so I stole it from myself!)

Question Everything: Kiai, part 2

2011-08-11T07:00:00.000-07:00

Why do you kiai while playing taiko?

Certain songs will "invite" kiai, almost organically. They may not be prescribed by the composer, but a shared feeling of want to put a kiai in a spot will organically occur. Often it feels so "right" that in time it officially becomes part of the song. Also, some songs will have kiai prescribed in them. Simple enough.

What's left are the kiai you choose to make yourself, at will. So have you ever thought about when you're kiai-ing?

In almost all taiko performances I've seen, when the music reaches a high point (last solo, big build-up, etc.), there are increased kiai. It's still "at will" but it's more like the organic gestalt kind of kiai I described above. I'm really trying to get at what makes you kiai in spot A versus spot B?

Personally, I try to make my kiai purposeful and either add to the space of a motion or accentuate a rhythmic pattern. Someone moving to the other side of the drum is a great time to give an encouraging kiai, filling in that empty space. If someone is playing repetitive syncopation, it can really highlight their rhythm by kiai-ing on the downbeat (even if the ji is already on the downbeat).

It's a bit of a skill to place a kiai in those spots, and it may not come naturally. It also helps to know the style of the people you're kiai-ing for (if they're improvising). Reaction time and confidence are all part of putting those kiai where you want, when you want them, and to make them varied all at the same time. Worth the practice? Hell yes.

There's absolutely nothing wrong with kiai-ing if you feel you want to. It's a measure of personal expression, after all. But like everything else, thinking about why and when you're doing it may give a little bit of enlightenment to your performance and make you a better artist.

My sponge is wet.

2011-08-08T07:00:00.000-07:00

The other night, Yurika asked me what my most memorable workshop was. Whether it was the most enjoyable or where I learned the most, what was at the top of my list?

You know, I'm still trying to think of the answer. I've had so many workshops over the years that I can't even begin to count. Odaiko, katsugi okedo, voice, classical dance, movement, percussion, basics, rhythms, body percussion, striking, Indian dance, Korean drumming, polyrhythms, and probably 15 more I'll think of when I finish typing this.

When I was new to taiko, when I realized how much there was to learn, I was so...absorbent. I was a dry sponge trying to soak up as much knowledge as possible.

After 18 years, I realize that I'm saturated with knowledge. It's not that I know all there is to know by any means, but I don't have that same visceral reaction to taking workshops and learning new things. It's still fun, but my brain tends to be a lot more picky about what sticks with me.

Bruce Lee is quoted for the famous quote about "emptying your cup" when it gets full so that you may make room for more knowledge. I find the sponge analogy more fitting, because I'm constantly keeping the sponge wet via practicing but there's only so much water it can hold before it's leaking onto the floor. Do I need a bigger sponge? Should I ring it out? What would those metaphors even mean?

How's your sponge?

Parameter drills

2011-08-04T07:00:00.000-07:00

I find that the more a person solos in a given song, the more likely they are to play the same kind of solos. It can be useful to "set" a solo, where you play the same solo every time you play that song, but it can also be self-limiting because it's often hard to play something different once it becomes set.

We're all used to playing patterns and doing movements that are comfortable for us (obviously, right?) So how do you break out of what you're used to? It's not just as easy as "making it happen", because we tend to revert to form before we realize it.

A couple of years ago I came up with Parameter Drills to combat that sort of problem. If I place limitations (parameters) to what you can do, they effectively force you to play in a matter you aren't used to. And from that un-comfort can come brilliance. Well at the very least, it's a hell of a lot of fun. :)

For rhythm-oriented solos, I might have people play with only their non-dominant hand, or have them crescendo gradually throughout. For solos utilizing multiple drums, I may have people strike with both hands for each note, or only play one drum at a time. For movement-based solos, I have a bag full of themes like "slow motion" or "down" which flavor how you'll move.

It's not all that hard to come up with your own parameters that are tailored to whatever solo you're trying to do more with. Odaiko, okedo, percussion, even vocal solos can have creative parameters applied to them as well. Sometimes it's fun to have other people create and/or choose what parameters you should try, and when several people try the same parameter it's really cool to see how people interpret the possibilities.

So there you have it, get parametering!

Disruptive.

2011-07-31T07:00:00.000-07:00

How do you deal with people that are disruptive at practice? It's a pretty common question that comes up. So let's take a different approach with it. Are YOU disruptive at practice?

You'll probably say "no," because you're a highly valuable, contributing member, right? Of course! Do you think the disruptive people would say "yes" to that question? Probably not. Since a disruptive person doesn't think they are disruptive, how do you know you're not one of them? Hmm...

Maybe you do (or don't do) something and think it's not a big deal. Maybe you think other people are okay with it because no one says anything to you - or they say something, but it doesn't sound like they really mean it.

Here's an abbreviated list of the things I've seen or have heard about from others. Are you guilty of them?

Constantly adding comments after other people speak.
Cracking jokes all the time.
Always being the first to laugh and the last to stop laughing.
Telling someone how to do something when they're trying to learn it from the person teaching it at the time.
Engaging in chat with people who are trying to focus on tasks at hand.
Not taking the initiative to help out what needs to be done before being asked.

I'd be surprised if most people hadn't done a few of these at one time or another. Hell, I've made comments, cracked jokes, etc. I'll even confess to being called out more than once on the last issue on the list.

In time I realized that not only was I setting a bad example, but what if everyone did what I did? Nothing would get done! Even only if half the group were like me then the other half would get tired of always having to tell us to get off our asses and be proactive.

If you do something like what's on the list often and no one calls you out or pulls you aside to say, "hey, please stop doing that," don't assume it's because people are ok with it. Other members may not be comfortable being so bold as to confront you, or don't want to appear like the "bad cop."

You need to be aware of what the vibe of the group is, both overall and situational. Are the leaders/directors trying to get something accomplished? Is someone teaching a new song? Then you might want to dial back on the social antics. Are there new members or guests at your practice? That's a great time to be a good example. Maybe you're in small groups or it's an informal rehearsal and it's ok to be joking and casual. The point is, think about what you do and how it may have an impact on the rest of the people around you.

If you're not sure what impact your words and actions are having within your group, then how can you be sure you're not the disruptive one?

Second Nature

2011-07-28T07:00:00.000-07:00

Most of us strive to make a skill "second nature", to make it so familiar that no active thought is needed for it's execution.

...but then what?

I'll bet there's something you'd like to make second nature. Maybe you want your footwork to be fluid. Maybe you want to be able to play in 7/4. Maybe you want to show the joy that you feel when you play outwardly on your face. We all have something that applies.

So yay, you finally get there! Now you don't have to think about how to do that thing, you can just enjoy your hard work! Only wait...does that mean it's never going to get better? Of course not, but it just became second nature, and isn't that where you wanted it to be?

Second nature is a great thing. When you get something to that level, you should feel proud! Still, there needs to be a "third nature" or "fourth nature", where things get better after they become second nature.

It's up to you to figure out how long second nature is no longer "good enough". How are you doing the thing you're doing? How can it get better? Don't you dare say it's as good as it's going to get; I don't accept that and neither should you. It's possible that you can't figure out what would make it better, so give it time and approach it again later.

Here's where things get less fun. You'll go from second nature, to where now you have to think about things again. Crap! But you know what? You'll get back to second nature sooner or later and this time you'll be better than the last second nature (boy does that sound weird).

I experienced this a LOT with learning how to strike. The first week I learned how to play taiko, it was so easy! Arm up, arm down, don. A few weeks into it and I realized that I was missing a lot of technique. A few years after that and I started to feel pretty darned comfortable...until I learned of different kinds of grips I hadn't been aware of, oy. Some more months down the line and I could switch between grips at will, depending on my needs. Great! Only then I realized my bachi turn a lot in my hands when I play. Could I fix that? It took me a little bit of time to figure out that yes I can, but no I don't want to. And so on, and so on.

Mind you, that was just with striking! There were also things like syncopation and showmanship, as well as karate and very similar concepts there to re-evaluate as well.

Second nature is a pitstop on the road to improvement. Stop the car, take some pictures, eat a sandwich, but sooner or later you need to get driving again!

Random videos!

2011-07-25T07:00:00.000-07:00

Sorry about the delay, folks.

Rushed for time here but I wanted to post some video links - some are videos I'm in, some are just interesting. Enjoy!

Adam Weiner and San Jose Taiko full of energy (actually, it's just Commotion!)
Street Drum Corps' BANG! x San Jose Taiko at SubZERO Festival (2009)
The Bangerz x San Jose Taiko "Robot Remains" Live at SubZERO Festival (2010)
San Jose Taiko part II (From a public TV short in 1993, the year I started - but I'm not in this clip)
Kodo 'Bravia' Promotion Video (short version)
藤本吉利（鼓童）大太鼓ワークショップ (Yoshikazu Fujimoto of Kodo playing and talking about odaiko/odaiko workshops.)

Drill: Vocalizing your solo

2011-07-21T07:00:00.000-07:00

If I had to come up with one solo drill to give to taiko players, this would be the one.

While clapping or stepping a constant beat, vocalize your solo. It could be a set solo or a improvised one, and the ji doesn't really matter because you're just doing the pulse with your body. You can use kuchishoga or scat or beat box, whatever works for you.

It will help you internalize the downbeat, which is probably one of the most important things a taiko player needs to do in order to have a successful solo. It's horrible when I see a potentially great solo (musically, visually) that's not connected to the tempo. It's like fingernails on a blackboard!

This is a great drill to do when you're walking, even if it's as short as going up the stairs somewhere. You can be pretty quiet with your voice, especially if you use kuchishoga and avoid risking people thinking you're insane. Hopefully! If you're walking a longer distance, this is great because you don't have to think about the tempo at all. Your natural gait is already engrained and you can just focus on your solo.

It's less natural to do it using your hands as the pulse, but it's very possible. Clapping, thumping the steering wheel, patting your hip, whatever works.

This may seem really rudimentary to some of you. Of course you can stay on tempo! Maybe you don't ever get off the ji, so what's the point? Well then this drill's not for you. :)

Another benefit to a drill like this is you get to listen to your solos. I know that sounds weird, since how can you not hear your solos when you're banging away on drums? Hearing is not the same as listening. When I mean listen, I mean how do your solos sound as music? Is it an onslaught of notes (is your mouth constantly making noise?) Are the notes grouped together with any sort of predictability for the audience to enjoy? Are there any dynamics or is it all loud, all the time? These are nuances that are easy to overlook but can make a solo stand out amongst the rest.

Sometimes it's great to take out the metronome and drum pads/tires/makeshift taiko and note the tempo while striking away. But it's also good to train your body to feel the downbeat, literally. This sort of drill can be done literally anywhere and adjusted to whatever difficulty level you like!

Now I get it!

2011-07-18T07:00:00.000-07:00

There's a technique in karate called "ashi-barai." You quickly sweep the opponent's foot with your own, using your lead foot, in order to take them off-balance. It's something I knew about easily a decade ago, but never really used much.

It was this really cool technique that other people might use on me (even if it didn't always work) but I never really felt like it was part of *my* arsenal. I could literally do it, but it didn't come naturally so I rarely tried.

So then here comes last week. I get there early before class and am goofing around with different techniques. I come up with an interesting combination that has ashi-barai in it and it "feels" good. So I ask a friend to react to it and bam, it works beautifully! I try it again during actual sparring later in the week (on someone else) and bam again. And again. I start "getting" this technique, understanding how it works with my body, with my sensibilities. I see opportunities for it everywhere now!

Yesterday our karate club had a beach workout. Sensei had us practicing a swiveling maneuver designed to teach evasion. Some of the newer/middle-ranked belts were having trouble with their coordination, turning one way and punching the other. Even when they were physically able to do it, it wasn't a natural nor easy motion. It's probably not even something they'll use much in the near future since it's going to require a lot of study. But someday, maybe one of them will have that same "eureka" experience that I did, figuring out how it works with their own body and in their own time.

There are a lot of techniques and advice we're given as we learn an art. Some things go over our heads at the time or come out awkward even when we're doing it right. Forcing a technique to be in your body is not often the best way to learn it; sometimes it needs to happen when it's ready.

Snapshot.

2011-07-14T07:00:00.000-07:00

This past weekend was San Jose Obon, a huge weekend-long celebration and our biggest festival set. We perform both days, with two different sets, and are literally surrounded by a huge audience. It's our rowdy home crowd and there's no feeling quite like it!

For days afterwards, videos and pictures get uploaded from different people at different angles. It's really cool to see some of the great hi-res stuff, but after the initial joy subsides, I start looking more closely.

I saw a picture with my raised arm up high just about to come down in a strike, and my fingers were in a nearly-perfect grip. No tension, great extension. It felt satisfying to see that! All the teaching I've done, all the talk about how to strike and grip and relaxing, all the practicing in the studio - and there's proof that it's happening, at least some of the time! I looked at other pictures to check my stance, my expressions, all of the things we look for at practice.

I've mentioned before the benefits of videotaping yourself at practice to see your form. However, no matter how much you practice, there's nothing as telling as seeing yourself in performance. When you're tired, when you don't have the luxury of thinking about the details, what do you REALLY look like?

If you can get someone to record you during a live performance, it's going to have two possible effects. One, you're going to be hyper-aware that you're being captured, and you're going to project more, push harder, etc. (Alternatively, you might freak out a bit, but that's another blog post.) Two, you're going to have evidence of your true persona on stage.

In our very first song during Saturday's set, I kept telling myself "people are taping you, smile!" As silly as that sounds, it paid off. Eventually you stop having to make yourself smile and you're just used to doing it. The same goes for a better stance, more interaction, pretty much everything your instructors have ever told you.

Granted, one picture or one video is not you in your entirety. But it shows more "truth" than something taken in a practice environment. Look closely enough and you'll see your habits, your strengths, your tendencies. A picture says 1000 words, but are you listening to any of them?

12 weeks, 12 songs: Epilogue

2011-07-11T07:00:00.000-07:00

Alright, time to reflect! It was three months of constant composing and processing and pushing through, so I'd better be all enlightened by now, right? Hmm.

The goal: To force myself to produce music instead of just coming up with countless ideas that never see the light of day.

The rules: Songs had to have a beginning, middle, and end. I could not work on a song that I had already put thought into in the past. Sunday at midnight was the latest I could work on a piece.

Things I learned:

- One week to write a song is insane. Don't ever do this. If you do, don't repeat that mistake eleven more times! Yeesh. It did force me to produce something, which was my goal, but unless I had something already in mind (which I purposely tried not to do), it was pretty easy to lose inspiration halfway through.

It was extremely hard to write a piece with depth to it in such a short time and equally hard not to stop and try to make it "better" as I'm composing. In the past, I could normally take a few days to choose between patterns I liked, but with this process I had to just pick one and keep going. Imagine cooking something that way - basil or oregano? Fish or steak? Mustard or sriracha? Sometimes it might turn out tasty, but not always...

- Music first, movement third. I can come up with a rhythm, find complimentary patterns, tie them together, and in the process the instrumentation will come to mind. But make me have to think of a movement first, and it's like running through pudding. Thick pudding. Everything becomes so much more difficult and I lose my desire to continue.

It's one thing to add movement during the composition process; if it pops up and seems good I can incorporate it. As a launching pad for me though, it sucks!

- I don't like to name my songs. I guess I sort of knew this, but now there's no doubt. While I'm composing a song, giving it a name limits it. To some people, giving a song a name from the onset gives it a purpose and I totally get that...for them. All of these songs are "untitled" and probably will be until the liner note deadline.

- My tendencies.

I like syncopation. No surprise there! Actually, it was hard in some pieces to NOT put in a syncopated pattern.

I really try to avoid 4 things in a row for the most part. I don't want patterns to be too predictable, but then after a while, that itself becomes predictable.

Apparently, I'm not a fan of "regular" ji. Straight beat, dongo, horsebeat (don dogo), etc. It's not that I dislike those patterns, but I find them too simple for the songs I want to write. The two songs that have those kind of ji (songs 3 and 6) add accents or use alternating tones.

My songs tend to be moderate to fast in tempo. I toyed with the idea of a slow, mellow song, but didn't like it. While I did play with tempo in song 10, I generally stayed in a narrow range.

The future of the songs:

- Songs that have little future:

Song 4 was an experiment in picking a random song and "taiko-izing" it. This isn't a horrible piece, but I don't see me doing anything with it.
Song 5 was the martial-art-inspired piece. This was my least favorite piece of all 12 and serves more as a lesson than a song.
Song 7 was the non-taiko taiko piece. I hate to put it in this category, but realistically I don't think I'll come back to it. I like the idea and what I was trying to do, but it's a super-low priority.
Song 9 had the hocketed, improv ji. It's quirky but I don't have any real attachment to it. Going to a different meter for the solos was a mistake as well.
Song 11 was in 5. Too messy, nothing gripping. It's the "kitchen sink" of my 12 songs.

- Songs that have something:

Song 1 was inspired by East Indian patterns. It's different and there's potential, but it's also fragmented. I might want to make something of it down the road...maybe.
Song 6 is the katsugi okedo movement-oriented piece. As a song it sounds boring as hell because there's no visuals to go along with it. I might take some of the ideas for a future work even if I don't take the bulk of it.
Song 8 was videogame-inspired and incorporates moving around the drums. This is sort of my "average" song because I don't hate it, don't love it, it's got some nifty patterns and I could easily develop it but don't have a great desire to at this point. Another day, perhaps?

- Songs with definite potential:

Song 2 was inspired by Heavy Metal. This is probably the song I'm happiest with from this experiment and I have ideas for it already. Of all 12 pieces, this will probably be the first one I develop fully.
Song 3 was an attempt to make a "catchy" melody. I could see this song being taught directly as-is and played on stage with hardly any changes. I wish it was longer, but I still like it.
Song 10 was the "taikobilly" piece. Lots of fun in this one. Like song 3, I wish it was longer, but I like the structure and potential mood of the piece.
Song 12 would need the most work of these four, but figuring out what sort of vocals to add should be fun. The descending tones of the drums was a real bonus but came to be a signature part.

Now what?

Now? I let those last four songs simmer in the back of my brain for a while. Coming out of this with four potentially good works is pretty damned encouraging, but it was exhausting!

I want to develop the song I started chronicling under the "New Song Diary" tag. I feel like I went through so much forced processing during this experiment that it served as a creative detox for me. I feel that I'm much more free to really make this song into the song it should be. Mind you, I don't know what song that is, but I feel like it's ready to be written.

Thanks to those who came along on this process with me. It might have been as boring as watching paint dry for some of you, but this blog is as much for me as it is for you. :) Maybe there's a few people reading my blog who wish they could get their ideas out of their heads and made into real music? If so, I hope writing about this journey of mine helped. I'd be happy to talk in more detail to anyone if they're interested - I'm still no expert on composition, but I'm always willing to talk taiko!

12 weeks, 12 songs: Month Three

2011-07-07T07:00:00.000-07:00

It's finally over! Twelve songs in...14 weeks, not 12. Close enough!

I was crazy for doing this, but it was a unique experience. I'm planning on doing a retrospective on the ordeal in a future post.

I'm also not going to be as fancy with the links/downloads. You'll get an mp3 to download for each song at the end of this post, but aside from the summary, that's it. Let's begin, shall we?

Week five:

This began the month of movement-based songs, and also the worst piece I embarked on. The idea was to use martial-art-inspired movements as a base. I wanted the "hard" style of movements (sharp, linear, direct) on one side and "soft" (circular, softer, fluid) on the other. There would be contrast in patterns and visuals as well as a "sparring" section.

I found myself banging my metaphoric head against the table with this one. I was doing movement for movements sake. Nothing felt purposeful as patterns came out uninspired and I wound up forcing myself to push forward as the week went on. I rushed to end this piece and it left a sour taste in my mouth. Not a good start for movement month!

Week six:

I wanted to give movement another chance, but realized I needed to approach it differently from putting some drums down and making new motions next to them. So I looked at the slung okedo (katsugi okedo) and asked, "what can I do with these if used as props and not just drums?" Got some interesting ideas from that! Unfortunately there's nothing I can show you, and the music isn't all that interesting without the visuals, so...

The best I can do is summarize some of the movement ideas. I took the okedo atop one shoulder and flipped it forward, tumbling down and back up to the other shoulder. I had the idea of a row of players moving the okedo in large circles with both hands, in different directions but flat to the audience. I also wanted to play with heights of the okedo, low to the ground or held over the head. Playing them in this way isn't optimal, but that wasn't the point.

Not sure I can take this piece into a workable song, but the ji and some of the movements could easily fit into a different piece someday.

Week seven:

I gave up on movement-based songs at this point. In fact, I took a week off here because A) I was busier than normal and B) my brain needed a break from creating in ways I wasn't fond of (i.e., movement-oriented). I needed to start fresh, with something off-the-wall. I decided to write a taiko piece without taiko.

Well ok, specifically a taiko piece where no taiko head was struck. I wanted a row of players in front sitting or kneeling, using only bachi to make sounds, while two okedo behind them were played on the ropes or rims alone. I know the ropes aren't the best place to hit, but that's not the point. The clicking sounds you'll hear on the mp3 represent shime bachi or oak bachi, either struck together or hitting the floor. There are some cool acoustic effects I was able to come up with in angling and placing bachi in different angles and holding different grips, but I can't get those sounds out of my little notation program.

Week eight:

I wanted to go back to taking a musical idea or ideas and going wherever my mind wanted to take it. I got inspiration from listening to old videogame soundtracks (we're talking pre-Nintendo here) and the from the music came the visual/arrangement ideas.

I have two taiko on upstands at angles and one on a downstand in the middle. There are five players that rotate around, moving between drums, and whatever solos are played are always on that center drum. The song isn't particularly complex and the movements aren't even planned, but it has enough potential to "keep in mind".

Week nine:

I had a weird idea for this one which I'm still not sure if I like. I wanted four different types of taiko in the back, each person getting a single quarter note to improvise something short and simple. With four quarter notes per measure and four people on four drums, this would create a constantly changing ji, one improvised by gestalt.

I don't even know what I wanted the front row/rest of the song to look like; that was secondary. And the ability to have four people constantly improvising without losing the pulse or tempo is something yet to be tried.

I'm not sure what I think about this piece. It's a very unusual idea but does that mean that it's a good one? Or just a gimmick? Hmm.

Week ten:

I was listening to some Reverend Horton Heat, who play Rockabilly, and thought, "why not make a 'Taikobilly' song?" Rockabilly is full of swing and spunk, so what would a Taikobilly song be like?

The setup idea was to have four taiko on downstands, with one person behind and between each pair for a total of three players. The back row ji has a shime and sumo (or lower-tone shime) per pod, with two pods total. Again, I didn't focus (or care much) about the visuals even though some ideas came to mind. The song is more about conveying that infectious energy and having fun with the musical genre. The chappa are way too loud on this track, but I have them at the quietest dynamic on the score as it is.

I like this piece, it has some oomph to it, plays with a genre taiko doesn't normally have, and I like the speed-up section into the solo ji. Might do something with this one...

Week eleven:

So until now, all the songs were based in 4/4 time. There are some other meters within the songs, but never as a theme. I wanted to take an odd meter - in this case 5/4 - and make it uncharacteristically festive, or at least swung.

It wasn't a great result overall. It's in 5/4, it's swung, but there's nothing about the patterns that has any sort of pulse; nothing to latch on to. It's a bit chaotic overall. If I had more than a week to do something in an odd meter, I think I might have more luck.

Week twelve:

Home stretch! I promised myself that I would finish this project by doing a Yoshikazu Fujimoto-inspired piece. I did a post about him here. I wanted to make it a festive, catchy piece with kakegoe (shouts or calls) as well as kiai. The idea of having three distinct tones of taiko came about by accident, but there is a section with descending tones that I really like.

I didn't create any kakegoe or kiai in the piece but left parts quieter and/or simpler where I want them to go. I also realize that relying on tones in taiko is futile, because drums change pitch all too easily. As long as it's high/middle/low, I'm good. I might use katsugi okedo if I have a good idea for what I would do with them.

Summary of months 2 and 3:

Painful. Movement is so not my forte. I can come up with movements without too much trouble, but making them the focus of a piece is the quickest way to turn it rotten. Taking a musical idea or an unusual concept is what gets my creative juices flowing.

I was almost always scrambling by the end of the week to finish. That came from enjoying the first few days of concept and idea generation too much, not realizing (or wanting to realize) that it takes more time for me to get things down that I like. Often that meant just forcing the later parts of a song, especially endings. You'll notice a lot of songs have a really strong last two, four, or eight measures, and end on a big fat ONE of the next downbeat. That's because usually it was the last day and I hadn't time to be creative.

I'll talk about this process more and what fates await my 12 songs in an upcoming post, so I'll end the chatter here. Hooray for staying sane! I think...well, as sane as I ever am, anyways.

Downloads:

Full pack of 8 songs (zipped) Mirror pack of 8 songs (zipped)

05 06 07 08 09 10 11 12
05 06 07 08 09 10 11 12

Good enough?

2011-07-04T07:00:00.000-07:00

When are you "good enough"? When do you step back and acknowledge what you've done or where you are? What do you do after you step back?

Most players I know of wouldn't dare to say, "Yeah, I'm good enough." There's a drive, a need to grow as artists no matter what direction that might take them. Better listener? More solid chops? Louder kiai? Any of those could apply.

It does seem a bit egotistical to ever think one is good enough in any area. I can't ever see myself thinking I know all I need to know in even my strongest of strengths. I don't ever want to know all there is to know! How boring would that be?

So why even bring up this question, if it's a ridiculous one to ask? Two reasons.

First, ok maybe you shouldn't ask yourself if you're "good enough", but it's really good to step back and look where you are at any given point. You're pulling the car off the road and looking at your surroundings, but you're not done with your journey. It grounds you, it makes you appreciate the progress you're making, and it also can let you know what still needs focus.

Second, I have met people who almost act like they are good enough, at least in one area. I've never heard someone say, "I think I'm good enough, you know?" But you can see it in their body language, in how they approach practices, in where they focus their attention. They've stopped to look back and for whatever the reason, they chose not to continue forward. It's sad.

So you've looked back, now what? Well now you can continue on your path but with a better perspective. You can reflect on what slowed you down in the past and take steps to either avoid it or tackle it more readily. Maybe you'll realize that you've neglected something in your training or decide that you want to pursue an area you've never stopped to consider before.

Perspective is important, but a false sense of achievement is dangerous. You should make goals and enjoy the satisfaction of "arriving" at them, sure. Just never treat any goal as your last!

Influences: Metal

2011-06-30T07:00:00.000-07:00

You'd think that a community of drummers that likes to bang out loud rhythms on big drums would like Heavy Metal more than it does! Alas, not the case.

Mind you, I'm no "metalhead"; I don't even have a good knowledge of the genre. I can count the number of groups I listen to on both hands and even then, there's only a few groups that I really enjoy.

What is it about Heavy Metal that draws me? Descriptive words like "thick, massive sound" and "emphatic beats" sum it up pretty well. (Thanks, Wikipedia!) Granted, a fue isn't going to command the kind of audial presence that an electric guitar does, but I could use those same words to describe taiko.

A lot of taiko is repetitive with a simple ji or pattern played out on either shime or cannon/kane. Metal is often pretty similar, with a fast, repetitive pulse driving the song forward.

Metal and taiko both create a visceral reaction in the listener. You can feel the energy from them being performed; it's a pulse that goes through your bones into your core. I've also seen both art forms make people plug their ears and walk away, too...

Finally, the intangible aspect of Metal for me is the feeling it imparts - more than just the physical "oomph" I talked about above, but more of an energetic, pumped-up, "yeeeeaaaahhhh!!!!" feeling. It could be from the melody of a guitar or the raw energy of the vocalist or the sheer intensity of the drummer; the end result is the same.

I've been wanting to write a Metal-inspired piece for some time now, and I have one nearly written from my 12-songs/12-weeks project, so that's promising! I'm eager to look at what I wrote nearly two months ago and expand on it. The hard part will be selling that "oomph" feeling without making it a parody of what people think of when they see the words Heavy Metal.

I'm ending this post with a few of my favorite videos/songs of the Metal genre. I'm not expecting you to like them as much as I do, but maybe you will! If you don't like them, at least you don't have to plug your ears; you can close the browser...

(I'll start with easier-to-digest stuff on the top and let it get "heavier" as it goes down.)

William Tell Overture Part 2 and Part 3 by Rossini
Path by Apocalyptica
Throw me Away by Korn (featuring Zendeko!)
Angels Thanatos by Akira Yamaoka
Iron Man by Black Sabbath (played by Metallica)
The Gears by Dethklok

Drill: Soloing to your own downbeat

2011-06-27T07:00:00.000-07:00

One of the harder things I've made people do in terms of drills or song ideas is making one hand play a constant downbeat while the other hand is free to improvise. On paper, this sounds hard. In practice...it's still hard!

The idea of doing this is to develop hand independence, which is invaluable for taiko players. A secondary benefit is helping you to feel the pulse of the ji by making you have to play it!

There are a lot of ways to tinker with the difficulty level of this drill:

Play more or less downbeats. In the above video, I'm playing quarter-notes, but you can play half-notes or eighth-notes to suit your comfort level.
Switch hands so that your non-dominant hand gets some solo time.
Add musicality by having the downbeat hand playing on a distinct tone.
Change the number of surfaces to solo on (more surfaces = more complexity).

As with most drills, start moderate until you know what's a comfortable level. If you start at a level that's too difficult, frustration can take away any benefits. Since you can really customize this drill, you'll be able to keep adjusting things to provide you with both satisfaction and a challenge!

Lessons learned from TWI 2011: Shime

2011-06-23T15:06:00.000-07:00

At the end of last weekend's TWI (focused on shime and hand-held percussion), I offered up to the participants some comments that I want to repeat here:

Outside eyes. Even if you're lucky enough to have a mirror to watch while you practice, most of us miss out on a lot. We get used to seeing what we want to see or even focusing so much on details that we forget the total picture. If you can, try videotaping and watching yourself from different angles. Consider taping the whole picture, or focusing on the hands, or face, etc. Even easier? Have other people watch you.

Breathe! Obviously, we breathe when we practice. Hell, I even bet you're breathing now! A person with good technique will breathe in a complimentary manner to their motions (i.e., exhaling on exertion, anticipating when to inhale). What I mean by breathing here is to take a deep, non-metered breath for the purpose of centering yourself and taking mental stock of what you're doing. Especially after given things to work on, people often get SO focused that other areas suffer (like posture, relaxation, etc.) So fill those lungs and re-evaluate every now and then.

Use your body as a metronome. When your body understands a rhythm, then you don't have to think about it. You don't want to bounce about when you're playing (unless the song calls for it) but I recommend exaggerating a little bounce when you're practicing on your own. Eventually you whittle away at the amount of excess movement you're adding until it becomes an internal thing. This little skill translates to a HUGE benefit and can help you in maintaining tempo against people who speed up, holding a pattern that interlocks with others, and even acts as a back-up for those times when you zone out and are having so much fun that you forgot what you were playing.

Amongst dozens of drills designed to help people listen, follow, lead, maintain form, and relax, these were the things I felt most important to impart. They apply across the board, regardless of where you are in the ensemble or how long you've been playing. As always, I hope some of this stuff helps!

Taiko Weekend Intensive 2011: Shime/percussion

2011-06-20T21:51:00.000-07:00

For the last three days, San Jose Taiko offered another Taiko Intensive Weekend, this one with a focus on shimedaiko, hyotan/shekere, and chappa. How'd it go?

Pretty darned well!

Since this was our first TWI focused on shime and hand-held percussion, there was some feeling-out of agenda and scheduling, but after hearing all the feedback from participants, it felt like we did a really good job! Aside from our two auditioning members, we had 10 people attending; all but one of them had been to at least one other TWI in the past.

From Roy drills on shime to basic technique on shekere to how to clean chappa, we threw out a LOT of information. There were about six SJT performing members who taught or assisted sections, and a lot of one-on-one interaction and feedback in order to give people the most personal instruction.

For me, the most satisfying parts came in the little moments: watching someone implement a suggestion or figure out a new way to approach something familiar. Also, it's always fun to just chat around meals or breaks, hearing what people have been up to or asking and answering questions.

We really enjoy presenting this sort of focused, hands-on, intense material to those who want to take their training to the next level, but you know what? It's also a hell of a lot of fun. I hope to see some of you at future TWI!

Review: Ethnic Dance Festival 2011 (opening weekend)

2011-06-16T07:00:00.000-07:00

This past weekend, San Jose Taiko performed at our first Ethnic Dance Festival ever. Everything about it was a blast!

This was the 33rd Annual EDF, spanning five weeks 750 performers, and 24 countries across six continents. I don't think anyone at SJT really knew how amazing the production was until we were involved in one ourselves.

To start, we did a 30-minute collaboration called "Synergy" with Abhinaya Dance Company last summer as part of one of their annual concerts. We took the best parts from that piece and made a 10-minute version for the EDF. We were to open the entire event, the first of 8 groups on opening weekend. We were to play a one-minute "song", followed by one minute of Abhinaya, then go into the collaboration.

The staff/crew of EDF knew what they were doing. Imagine herding and monitoring 200 performers from 9 different groups one weekend, then having to do it again with entirely different groups the next few weeks! They kept things well-oiled.

We played twice that weekend, not including the Dress rehearsal. There was a monitor in the green room where performers could watch the other performances, since we weren't allowed to go into the house and watch them during the shows. Whenever a group came off the stage and into the green room, they were always met with applause from whomever was watching the show on the monitor.

Our collaboration went really well both days. The audience *really* reacted to the piece, which I thought was excellent. The precision of classical East Indian dancing, the expertise of the orchestra (for the dancers), and the energy and power of the taiko all fit together in a really incredible experience for both us and the audience. It wasn't just some Indian dancing and some taiko drumming, it was two groups finding common ground but staying true to our values. It wasn't a fusion, it was a true collaboration.

The groups that followed were all amazing:

Shabnam Dance Company followed us, a troupe of Middle Eastern/bellydancing women who I didn't get to see a lot of because I was coming off-stage and recovering from our set. The muscle control for all their abdominal and body rolls was amazing; they would isolate sections of their torsos and *pop* them out at will. Also, incredible was the lead dancer Shabnam who stood on two overturned glass goblets and while still atop them, slid out into SPLITS. Holy crap.

Next up was African Heritage Ensemble, who was high energy from start to finish. I echoed comments from other people watching about the endurance of this group! I love the energy of African dance from what little I've seen, not to mention the expression of joy and complexity of the drumming. The men of SJT shared a dressing room with their men and we got to talk a little bit but I'd love to hear and learn more.

Ending the first half was Parangal Dance Company, a Filipino ensemble who used a few simple props to really accentuate their movements and music. One ingenious prop was a metal slab on a swing (sinalimba?) that one or two people would get on and sway back and forth, which was mesmerizing and almost impossible not to sway while watching it! There was a simple, powerful pulse to the whole piece and they arranged performers in very effective ways.

Starting the second half was Gadung Kasturi, a Balinese group who took the flow of the show in a different direction. Even with the gamelan ensemble punching up the dynamics or tempo, the dancing was serene yet purposeful and graceful.

I haven't been mentioning any of the transitions between groups, but theirs into the next was absolutely gorgeous. One dancer from their group remained on stage with a small folding fan and was joined by a female flamenco dancer. The Balinese dancer handed her fan to the Flamenco dancer before departing. Both dancers used their hands and fingers in similar ways, outstretched and expressive, and it was one of the most memorable parts of the entire show.

The flamenco group, Theatrico Flamenco of San Francisco, was the smallest group performing that night, but that didn't diminish their performance. Whereas I expected percussive stomping and fierce poses, we instead got two women dancing in a very distinct flamenco style, but with a slow, deliberate sensuality involving occasional interaction. The instrumentation was unique as well; piano, guitar, and violin aren't what I would attribute with Spanish music but it sounded authentic and beautiful. There was a last-minute male flamenco dancer added to it that I didn't get to see, but heard he was very powerful.

A great contrast to the Flamenco group was Ballet Folklorico Mexico Danza. Whereas the Flamenco were in all black against a black stage, the Folkloricos (if that's even a word) were in all white against the same stage. The Flamenco were mostly about slow smooth movements while the Folkloricos were all about beaming pleasure outwards with percussive dance. I have to admit at first I thought I wasn't going to be all that interested in this group because "oh I've seen them before." I must not have been paying attention before, because I found myself impressed and entertained quite a bit by the fast footwork, the surprisingly intricate patterns, and the fun they were having on stage.

One last group to end the show, and it was Hui Tama Nui, a Tahitian dance group that brought 80 dancers and a handful of musicians on top of that. Sure they had the big headdresses and feathered skirts at times, but they definitely had creativity and told a story while exploring both traditional and modern forms of the art. The music was pulsing, driving, rolling, and continued into the bow sequence...

We bowed in reverse order, first group on/last group to bow. So SJT and Abhinaya came out last with about 150 dancers behind us and a huge audience in front of us. It was impossible not to feel that energy going through and around us! SJT ran off through the house to the lobby, where we had positioned some taiko during intermission, and played to help lure the audience out...and the dancers! The lobby was packed with feathers and ruffles and gowns and smiles and noise and sweat, which eventually spilled out into the plaza for both shows.

I will have to say that our choreographed bow sequence sort of fell apart the first night, but with so much going on on stage by then, it was hard to tell! Still, we fixed it up and nailed it on Sunday.

It was daunting being amongst so many talented dancers, but if there's one thing we learned it's that we shouldn't sell ourselves short. We may be "drummers" but we don't stay still - choreography is movement is dance. This world of dance is unfamiliar to us but inspiring and might help push us to new heights if we keep our options open!

What will stick with me the most will be the bonding that SJT and Abhinaya went through, even with new members to the collaboration on both sides. Whether Bharatanatyam or taiko, we were all excited to be there and respected both art forms quite a bit. All of the groups at EDF were supportive and respectful and never once did I feel like we didn't belong or weren't welcomed. The term "love-fest" came up a few times. Ha!

Overall, the groups are top-notch and there's a lot of hard work to make everything flow so well. If you ever get a chance to see a performance of the EDF, I highly recommend it!

Influences: Introduction

2011-06-13T07:00:00.000-07:00

Yay, another series of posts! Hey, it keeps me amused...

I've been thinking a lot about tendencies, those things we resort to and define our own personal style. When I lead drills about solo work, I want people to identify their own tendencies and be able to modify them at will. Even though I can recognize my own tendencies, it made me wonder where they all came from. And lo this series was born.

I'm going to look into the patterns that shape me, the movements that define me, the moods that drive me. Is there music I grew up listening to that influences me now? Does one art reflect on another? As I do this exercise in self-reflection I hope to not only understand those influences better but also hope to inspire others to look at what's shaped them more closely as well.

Stay tuned!

Mainstream taiko

2011-06-09T07:00:00.000-07:00

There are people in the taiko community who wish taiko was more "mainstream". It could be that they want taiko to be more well-known, or more popular, or even perhaps more lucrative as a profession.

In the few threads and conversations I've witnessed about this topic, the resistance I see to this push is mostly passive. The large majority of taiko players don't personally want to do things to make taiko more mainstream, even if they wouldn't mind the increased exposure for taiko overall. I don't think that's a bad mindset to have, but it's something to be aware of.

Let's take a look at some of the possibilities of mainstreaming taiko:

More demand of taiko performances, which means more paying gigs for taiko groups.
More opportunities to collaborate with mainstream artists, which can push taiko into new forms and outlets.
More drum makers and equipment, possibly more affordable as well.
Professional taiko players and groups more viable.
Larger community for support and resources.

But with that, there's also the possibilities of:

A flood of cookie-cutter taiko groups.
Harder for audiences to distinguish "quality" taiko.
Less opportunities for you/your group to play because there are so many other groups out there.
Foundations that rank your group at the bottom due to politics or bias.

None of these are going to happen overnight, and probably not even in the short-term. There are people trying to get taiko more and more "out there" but it seems taiko is taking its own sweet time. Where it's headed, who knows?

So here's my question for you. Would you rather see more exposure, more acceptance, and more taiko, if it meant less quality and less opportunities for you?

Bah humbug

2011-06-06T07:00:00.000-07:00

In the psychometric type-testing of the Myers-Briggs test, traits are judged on four dichotomies. The pairs are Extrovert/Introvert, Sensing/Intuition, Thinking/Feeling, and Judgement/Perception. The system uses a series of questions to determine where on each scale a person falls.

For this post, I want to talk about the last scale, Judgement/Perception. Those who have a preference to Judge can be said to need answers. They want a solutions to the world around them. Those who have a preference to Perceive can be said to want to keep their options open. They want to allow for further data and/or deliberation.

We all perceive and we all judge. Naturally, doing one too much is a bad idea. Although neither one is "better" than the other, I'm going to completely slam one of them in a certain context. Bear with me.

Which of these is more like you when you watch something (let's keep it to taiko) that you don't like:

You question what it is exactly you don't like about it.
Assuming it was done correctly, you try to figure out what the composer's/artist's intentions are.
You realize that it's just against your personal sense of aesthetics.

or...

You make sure everyone around you knows how much you don't like it.
You seek a group of people who feel the same and continue to be negative.
You feel like you're better than the people you just saw.
You can't find anything good about the group/song.

I'm guilty of some not-so-kind judging but there's one thing that really helps me stop and seek perspective. I ask myself, "what if our roles were reversed?" I wouldn't want to have people leave a show that I was in talking smack about me or my group; I would hope that they would be fair in assessing what they saw and leaving at least feeling there was something of merit.

Mind you, I enjoy when someone can say that they don't like something but articulate why. This shows thought and...wait for it...perception! I may not agree with you, but it helps me respect your opinion - hell, it may make me question my own!

For those who tend towards the negative side of things, I would like to put a call out there to use your inside voice so that the rest of us don't have to hear how much you didn't like *this* or why you can't stand seeing *that*. Some of us might actually have LIKED something you didn't, and not arguing with you doesn't mean we agree with you.

Also, this attitude tends to make people around you tend to not want to hear your opinion. It doesn't matter which side of the extreme you are, always mentioning the positive or always mentioning the negative, but it shows other people that your critical eye is lopsided. Why would I want to hear your opinion when all your other opinions have been the same?

We all judge. We all perceive. Next time you judge, maybe ask yourself what your initial impressions say about you, then go from there. It might be enlightening!

Pulling back the curtain: What's touring like?

2011-06-02T07:00:00.000-07:00

What's it like to tour? While I rarely get asked that question directly, I ones like these:

"How do you get your equipment around?"
"You must really like each other to be together as a group for so long!"
"Do you have any roadies?"

I'd like to talk a bit about touring, with the caveats that (1) no tour is ever the same, (2) other members may have widely-differing perspectives, and (3) other groups may or may not have anything resembling our tours.

Getting ready

There are usually a couple of all-day weekend rehearsals before we send a team out, to make sure that the shows are ready. There are always logistics to be worked out no matter how well-thought through the set is. Also, it's easy for the veteran members to forget how overwhelming things are for a rookie, with terminology and spike marks and what's coming next oh my god where are my bachi and I'm on the wrong side holy crap!

We have our equipment in touring cases flown to a shipping facility, then fly out ourselves to pick it up. We'll rent a large Budget truck and one or two vehicles to drive from city to city.

Before a concert

This is where we do the bulk of the work, more so than the concert itself! When we get into a theater, we all start working. There's drums to un-box and un-bag, stands to build, spikes to lay out, lights to focus, drums to tighten, songs to run for sound checks, and running through the whole set skipping songs (cue-to-cue). Some of us are assigned specific tasks (like lighting or spikes) while the rest of us get to work on the equipment. It's a pretty well-oiled machine, where even if you're brand new to the process, the rest of us will mentor and explain how to do things and put you to work. Most of us also prefer to get in some individual practice if time allows.

However, you never know when complications arise. Ideally, we load into a theater the day or night before and play the following day, but quite often we have to load in that morning which cuts down on any luxury of time we might have. Lighting issues pop up more than we'd like, which can mean we're literally doing things last-minute to get SOMEthing working. There's also times where the crew is student-run or inexperienced, which means more effort on our part, which takes more time and energy.

After the show

We usually process out to the lobby at the end of a show to greet the guests, where there's a balance of hanging out and getting back to clear out. We change and strike the set as soon as possible, both for our sake and for the crew's. We're usually riding the charge from playing the show as we strike our equipment, and although it may look frantic, we have it down to a science. Plus, we're probably hungry and that's a motivation right there! Still, it's not uncommon to get back to the hotel by 1:00am some nights.

One philosophy of SJT is to leave a theater in better condition than when we arrived, so we make sure to clean up and then some. Part of that is also to appreciate the crew, who work with us throughout the entire time we've been there.

In between

While concerts are somewhat of the "focus" of a tour, we usually have more school outreach programs than concerts. They're one-hour shows at a theater that we practice along with the full concerts before we leave on tour. While they're not as physically demanding as a concert (even two of them in a row), they still take effort. We also quite frequently go to schools for a workshop, which combines playing songs and having hands-on volunteer sections.

Being in the theater takes up a lot of time, but most of our tour happens in between shows. Driving is a huge part of that! It can be 2 to 2o hours to get to the next venue, and we may have 1 to 3 days to get there. And then we do it again. And again. We'll switch out who's driving and who's in what car, but driving can really sap our strength, more so than performing.

Sometimes we'll stay in the heart of a major city, other times we're well out of the way. Hotels vary tremendously, but they're usually on the nicer side. If we're lucky, there are things to do during downtime, like visiting downtown, mini golf, a movie, etc.

Some members (usually Staff) contact upcoming venues, make sure things are on schedule, cut spikes for the next show, and other preparatory tasks to keep the flow...flowing.

Variables

Even though we have an itinerary for the whole trip, changes are common. There can be workshops or dinners with local taiko groups that pop up, workshops with students, interviews for local papers, extra prep for a really difficult stage, etc. People may get sick and since we're together so much, we have to take precautions to keep it from spreading. Vehicles don't always behave. Weather can be brutal for outdoor gigs. Flights might get cancelled. Whee!

----

I hope I haven't de-mystified the experience of seeing us on stage when we tour? I think it adds a great perspective to know what goes on to make a performance. Touring is never a trudging from one stage to the next, nor is it a non-stop carnival of amusement. It's a job, it's an adventure, it's work, it's play!

Jerks.

2011-05-30T07:00:00.000-07:00

I'm going to say something totally shocking. Are you ready for it? Some taiko people are jerks.

No, this isn't a post about someone in particular, or even for me to vent about people I've encountered personally. There's just been many a time when someone shares a sense of disbelief at how rude, insensitive, arrogant, or spiteful a fellow player can be.

In the NA taiko community (and pretty much the global taiko community) we all share a love for a very special art form. Because of that, we tend to feel a sense that we have each other's best interests at heart. Maybe that's even true on some level, but when you step back and look at the reality, that sense sort of falls apart.

People in school, people at work, heck even people in a family can be complete tools - so why would it be any different in taiko? In fact, because of the relatively close-knit taiko community, those kind of people are harder to cope with. Alienating the jerk may cause you to be alienated by their close comrades, whether it's in our own group or in the taiko community. That leads to most of us not confronting the jerk, who continues their jerk-ness.

I'm not saying there's a simple solution to dealing with a taiko jerk, nor am I saying I've never been surprised when someone who plays taiko does really rude things. I just want people to realize that a shared love does not a jerk unmake!

Question Everything: Song names

2011-05-26T07:00:00.000-07:00

I hate naming my songs. I always wait until the last possible day - which is when someone on Staff says, "if you don't give it a name now, we'll name it ourselves." Maybe someday I should let them? Ha. Nah.

A little while back, Yurika pointed out that none of the songs I've written (3 regular pieces, 2 encores) had Japanese names. I hadn't even realized that myself; it wasn't a conscious decision to avoid Japanese names. Hell, I've even contemplated Gaelic names for songs in the past, but never Japanese. Why is that? Hmm.

I don't criticize those who do pick Japanese titles for songs, mind you. I just wonder how many people pick a Japanese title because it sounds cooler? "Zoosan Mitsukete" sounds really cool, but "Find the Elephant" does not. There are also times when a word or phrase has a secondary or slang meaning that the author didn't know about, which can be really unfortunate. That happens with group names, too!

I'm not here to call anyone out for what they name a song, only to make people think about why they name things what they do!

12 weeks, 12 songs: Month Two

2011-05-23T07:00:00.000-07:00

Fail.

Since month one was all based on musical patterns and rhythms, I thought I'd try basing the next month's songs on movement. Apparently, this is akin to grating cheese using a machete: painful, slow-going, and frustrating. And ultimately, I gave up going that route.

I'm not going to link the songs or the sheet music or the notes here; it was a lot of hassle and I'm not sure if anyone was all that interested. I'll save it for the end of the 12-week session. But let's get into the songs...

Week five:

My idea for this week was to use karate as a basis of movement, using the idea of a "hard" and "soft" style in conflict/opposition. I had one side of the stage with drums on slants, and the other with them down. The slant side would be the "hard", more angular, linear movements, while the down side would be the "soft", more rounded movements.

I wound up focusing so much on what movements could be done, that I lost the feel of martial arts and they became motion for motion's sake. I made up several sequences of movement to a downbeat, with little rhythm to make things interesting. And when I didn't have any rhythms to make things interesting for me, I found myself with no direction for the song. It became a burden to work on.

I finished the minimum requirements for the week, gave it some patterns and recorded the movements, but I accidentally over-wrote the notes I had, including the frustrations I was having. The only positive thing about this song is helping me realize I do not work well with movement as a foundation for creation.

Week six:

I still wanted to try movement (glutton for punishment), but took the route of using mobile okedo. It would be too easy for me to make this all about the rhythms, so I had to take a different approach.

I experimented with holding the okedo as a object instead of thinking of it as an instrument, and also planned out making formations of players. I wanted it to be more exacting than festive or energetic, and gave the ji a very simple straight beat of two tones. Now that I didn't have to worry about making musical patterns, I felt a lot less limited by the movement and free to try out ideas.

I wound up using the okedo as a prop, swinging it in circles, spinning with it, and finding ways to twirl and twist it in the hands and around the torso to make interesting visuals. Ultimately, I have only the skeleton of a piece, but it's got some potential. Still, it's another example that movement-based pieces don't foster inspiration in me.

Week seven:

I took this week off. Things were busy and I needed to give my brain a short vacation after pushing through two less-than-enjoyable pieces, and six in a row overall!

Week seven, part two:

Ok, refreshed and ready to try new stuff. How about a taiko song without any taiko? Yeah, let's see where that goes...

So I had the idea of using a line of 4-5 people, playing with bachi on the floor, thumping and tapping and clicking patterns out. I came up with some interesting ideas, both visual and musical, but it needed something more to make it less of a gimmick and more of a complete piece.

Instead of adding percussion, I kept with the idea of "taiko without taiko" and added two okedo in the back, but playing on the ropes instead of the drum heads. I could use something like slats instead of bachi to prevent wear on the ropes and still give an audible sound over the bachi in the front. There's potential in this piece, and it's interesting enough to flesh out maybe down the line.

Week eight:

Time for some "palate cleansing" and writing something musically-based to get back into the swing of things. I listened to a heap of old videogame music, the kind I used to hear in my formative years, and got a dose of inspiration.

This time, I actually got inspiration for movement, but it came from the music. I wanted people to move around drums on upstands, but I didn't worry about the details of what it would look like. I figured if I liked the general idea and could write a basic framework, details like what the limbs are doing could come later.

I made the ji on a pod of shime and sumo taiko, giving two distinct tones. It has a beat that's not quite either on the down nor the upbeat, but simple and catchy. There are two upstands and one downstand (in the middle), for 5 players total. There are several overlapping patterns throughout the song and solos, but even though this song was the highlight of these last four weeks, it's too similar in structure to Commotion, the last piece I composed for performance. I'll have to tweak this one in structure if I want to dI anything with it, but musically and thematically I like where it's going.

Summary of month two:

I suck at having movement as the main component of a song idea. I can live with that, but it was pretty revealing to go through the process. I really need a musical component or idea, even if I have a clever idea like with week seven.

Haven't really gotten better at doing things faster, possibly because I procrastinated more as I got frustrated this past month. It doesn't make me feel like I can't incorporate movement in my pieces, but I shouldn't focus on them as a priority or worry too much about the details if I want to enjoy the process.

What's in store for the last month? Stay tuned...

Expectations

2011-05-19T07:00:00.000-07:00

If perception is reality, do you know how much your expectations shape your perceptions?

This past weekend, my dojo held its annual tournament. One thing we told the beginning and intermediate belts several times in preparation for this weekend was that doing tournament kata was like putting on a performance. The judges are evaluating you as soon as you stand up, before you even enter the ring, let alone as you come up to the beginning mark and begin your form.

How does the competitor acknowledge when their name is called?
Are the bows at the edge and mark done well or sloppily?
Is the competitor confident? Nervous?
Do they announce their form in a loud speaking voice or a shout?
Do they look the head judge in the eye when they announce their form, or do they avoid eye contact?
Do they pause after their last move or rush to be done?

The really interesting thing to all of the above is that none of those factors will cause you to earn or lose a point, but they can directly affect your score. How is that possible you ask? Judges are making assumptions about what kind of performance you're going to give them with every move you make (or don't make).

If you look like you're going to be nervous and awkward, they're going to expect a poor performance and look for reasons to justify that impression. You've given them a reason to look for the negative aspects of your performance. But if you look like you are more than ready to rock, they're at least going to be ready for an average run, and try to find what you're doing well.

So let's take this into taiko, shall we?

Imagine you're about to watch a new taiko group play that you've never seen before. Here they come on stage; there are ten middle-aged Caucasian men, and let's say they're in really tacky outfits that don't look alike. By the time you've finished that last sentence, you've already made an expectation about what they'll be like, haven't you? I'd bet good money on it. The interesting question now is will you be looking for reasons to justify your opinion? Or will you easily admit (even if just to yourself) if you were wrong in your initial presumptions?

Ok, so instead of those 10 White guys in garish outfits, you have 10 Asian women in identical happi coats. Where are your expectations now? Are they the same? Lower? Higher? I'd also bet money that a lot of people would have a higher expectation of this second group; I won't pretend I wouldn't!

The point of this post is two-fold. One, I want people to realize they impose expectations on every person they see, every group they see playing taiko. It's not going to go away, but if you can lessen the impact it has on your perception, you start taking control back over your reality! Two, it's worth taking a look at what the audience sees; thinking about things from their perspective. What would you think if you saw you performing?

How you like me now?

2011-05-16T07:00:00.000-07:00

Do you have to really like everyone you play with, in order to play joyfully with them onstage?

Unless you're extremely lucky, there are people in your group you're not too friendly with. I would even bet there are people in your group that you don't like! *gasp* I believe the technical term for that is called "life".

In an ideal world, we would all be doing our arts with people we all really got along with. But it's not like that in school, it doesn't happen at work, and it rarely happens within family, so why should taiko be any different?

Sometimes you may just have someone who rubs you the wrong way. It can also be as bad as a fellow member who doesn't like you, and is antagonistic (whether it's obvious or behind your back). I could write an entire post about what you might do to handle that animosity, but how does it affect what goes on in a performance?

I don't have an answer, honestly. All I can do is tell you what I do and hope it helps. A few posts back I talked about acting, where sometimes you have to fake an emotion that you're supposed to be projecting. It's much the same here. It's not like I've played next to someone I utterly hate and have to keep down the bile, because that's a much more serious problem. However, when I have to support someone and they're not my favorite person, for the sake of the performance - for the sake of the art - I make sure that the audience never knows and never suspects.

I mean, think about being in the audience...wouldn't it be distracting to see someone who obviously didn't like being next to someone else? It could sour the song for you or even the entire performance!

Ultimately, the love of your art should surpass any *grumble grumble* feelings you might have when it comes to performing it. Do you have to like everyone in your group? Unless it comes really easily for you, then no. Consider it a reason to perfect your acting skills onstage instead!

What would you rather be?

2011-05-12T01:16:00.000-07:00

You have two choices. Would you rather be:

A mediocre player that stands out as memorable?
A talented player that blends in with the group?

I know that if I went up to the taiko people I know and asked them this question outright, just about all of them would answer the latter. Of course we want to be good for the group's sake, and who doesn't want to be talented? But I wonder...

I watch people play taiko (and doing martial arts) and I see those who would pick the first choice. They want to be in the spotlight at the expense of being a better player. They're ok with where they are skill-wise, and focus more on the outward appearance they project. It's not even that people who want the first choice are bad players, but they could be so much better if they focused less on "look at me" and more on self-improvement!

Ultimately, if being memorable is your goal, moon the audience during a solo. If you really want to get better, stop worrying about being noticed. Eventually you'll be noticed for the talents you've fostered and you can truly enjoy the fruits of your labor.

Compliments vs. Critiques

2011-05-09T07:00:00.000-07:00

Would you rather be in a group that only gives you positive verbal feedback (compliments) or only gives you negative verbal feedback (critiques)? Neither one is optimal, but let's get into the reasons why.

In a group that only tells people what they're doing wrong, there's no positive reinforcement. Each comment only adds to the pressure weighing down a player. All those comments bounce around in your head, making you worry about if you're doing something the "right" way, and half the time you'll be trying to figure out what critiques take priority over others. It'll take you a lot longer to find your own voice, let alone become a stronger artist.

However, with groups that are all about focusing on the good, a player can get a false sense of their abilities. There's less incentive to improve, because what needs to be worked on is glossed over and made to seem less important. Also, when you know you made mistakes, do you want someone to lie to your face and say, "you did great!"? Often with a group like this, there is great short-term joy but little long-term satisfaction.

Now, I realize that most groups don't fall into either extreme, but I also know that there are teachers and instructors of groups who do fall into one of the two camps. So imagine you have one or two senior members who teach like that, who then attract/retain people with similar temperaments. It may not reflect the whole group's mindset, but it easily becomes the dominant way that comments are given.

Admittely, I know there are people who seek out one extreme or the other. There's nothing wrong with that, but a majority of the players I've met aren't like that.

So which group would you rather be in? Ultimately a mixture of both is best, but where you like your balance depends on your taste. So maybe a better question to ask is, which side of the spectrum are you on?

Teaching vs. Instructing

2011-05-05T07:00:00.000-07:00

Telling someone how to do things comes in two flavors.

There are those who are good at giving instructions, detailed information in order to get you to do the material correctly. They'll cover all the bases and make sure that you have a solid foundation to move forward from. These are the instructors.

There are those who watch what your needs are, your strengths and weaknesses, and tailor their comments accordingly. They try to fill in the blanks and touch on the areas that you can practice for continued growth. These are the teachers.

Instructors can often get lost in going through the motions; telling people how to do things in the same way no matter what the group or individual might need, simply because that monologue is so familiar. It can be uncomfortable to disengage from those familiar paths and take a risk in focusing on a group or individual on more than just a surface level.

Teachers may at times be unable to see how to give you the best advice in the best way possible. What works for them or for others may not be what works for you, and that suggestion winds up being a distraction. Sometimes a teacher may not be strong in an area you need, and a problem gets overlooked. Also, a teacher can give you bad advice with good intentions, forcing you to re-learn something down the line.

Which is better? Ultimately I'd rather have a "teacher" than an "instructor", but the roles really should overlap somewhat. Still, I've known people who were clearly in one of the two camps.

I think of myself as a teacher, but I admit to still having a long way to go, both with taiko and karate. It means I'm going to fail at times when trying to help people, both in communication and action, but it also means I'll learn and get better at both teaching and the arts themselves.

I'm not here to blast those who choose to instruct, I'm just defining the two roles and stating a preference. Sometimes just recognizing how things are done or are different helps us make better decisions.

When are you ready?

2011-05-02T07:00:00.000-07:00

When are you ready to first perform? Or play that spot for the first time? Or compete in a tournament?

The answer, of course, is never.

I'm just kidding! The answer is way more complicated than that.

What does it even mean to be "ready"? It's going to be different for each person - comfort level, confidence level, knowledge of the material, etc. It's going to be different for each group you're in - if they're performance-oriented, if they want to push your skills, positions available, etc.

There is a point when you truly aren't ready, but I see a lot of people doubting themselves to where that period is artificially extended. It's then not about skill, it's about confidence. A classic chicken-and-egg scenario: you're not ready to perform because you don't feel confident enough, but you're not confident because you haven't performed enough.

My dojo is holding a tournament in a couple of weeks and we're running through practice rounds of kata. There are a lot of people running through their kata who are visibly nervous and it affects their entire performance. After a few times, it starts to sink in that all the people watching them just don't matter, and their training takes over. That nervousness has to be burnt off through doing; there's no shortcut around it.

No one wants to get up in front of others and look weak or stupid or wrong. That fear can often prevent us from performing until we finally stop worrying about what the people think, and focus more on letting our training shine through.

I've been performing taiko for 17 years and have done tournaments and had testing dozens of times. I miss the butterflies in my stomach, the nervous energy that keeps you kind of buzzed, that feeling mild terror mixed with excitement. It may sound weird to say that, but it's true. Once it's gone, it hardly ever comes back.

The first time you perform, your brain will be all over the place. If you wait until the magical time when your brain is "ready" to play, you'll never perform. So take the plunge and enjoy the ride, because the journey leads to a stronger you!

Selling vs. believing

2011-04-28T07:00:00.000-07:00

You've probably heard of the term "selling it." Do you have a cold and have to perform on stage in an hour? Sell what you got! Are you new to a part and unsure of the sequence? Sell it!

The idea behind "selling it" is not to show the audience whatever the deficiency is. If it comes to the point where you have to "sell it", then it's too late to fix whatever caused the situation in the first place. If you let the problem show on your face while you're performing, the audience is going to not only notice you, but will most likely share in that feeling of uncomfortable-ness with you.

"Selling it" serves as a necessity but is never an optimal situation. It mimics confidence, which is something that can waver for even the seasoned player at times. Think about the people that you really enjoy watching on stage or command presence when they perform. It could be a dancer, a musician, a martial artist, etc. That presence you feel comes from them believing in themselves.

Or does it?

Find me a seasoned artist who hasn't had a bad day and still had to perform. The more experienced someone is, the more likely they've dealt with issues. In my own experiences, I've seen people perform taiko or test/compete in martial arts with 105-degree fevers, stomach flu, blisters, smashed knuckles/bleeding flingers, and the list goes on and on. Did the audience know? I bet 98% of the audience were unaware anything was off, because the people performing "sold it". Odds are, you've watched more than one performer who was "selling it" and you never knew anything was wrong. Heck, I've known people to drop a bachi and some people in the audience had no idea, simply because that person acted like nothing was wrong!

So the really great artists may truly believe in their skills, but if you can't tell when someone is at 100% or faking it, that should tell you something! "Selling it" is a skill we all have to practice, just like believing in our own abilities. If you wait for that magical day when all of a sudden you'll start believing in yourself, you're missing the point.

You don't need to wait for a big problem to arise before you "sell it"; you can start doing it the very next time you practice. Feel ok with a part? No, you feel great about a part! Sell that! You may just find that in short time, you're no longer faking that you feel great, you truly believe it.

Two Lenses

2011-04-25T07:00:00.000-07:00

I have two lenses I carry around with me.

The first are the critical eye lenses, the ones of an artist of a combined 30 years who watches for what's not quite right, what could be improved, if a strike is clean, if the motions are efficient, etc. They don't only see what's bad or negative; they also notice what really works, too. These are the lenses that get more and more focused every year. They're also impossible to completely remove. I can forget that I have them on, but only for so long.

The other pair I've had as far back as I remember. They're the lenses that let me enjoy even the most beginning of levels. They help me enjoy the other person's joy, whether it's in simply trying hard or having fun/satisfaction in doing what they practice.

With the first pair, it's not like I catch everything. I'm still learning and as I learn, I see more in myself and others. With the second pair, it's not like I always enjoy everything I see! I have my preferences and tastes, and even if something is done well, that doesn't mean I'm going to like it.

You might find yourself too heavily favoring one pair or the other, and it will limit you. Most people are pretty balanced, but there are people who seemingly favor one over the other. Those who heavily favor the latter almost seem unobservant in their "kindness". Really, you didn't mind that I totally forgot the sequence halfway through and messed up people around me? Really? It makes me suspicious, but that's me. Those who heavily favor the former are the ones I feel sorry for because where's the joy in their art? One can be critical and eagle-eyed, but if there's no passion in observing people doing what you do or you can't enjoy the product, then why are you still involved in it?

As always, balance is the key. Never stop striving to get better by being better, and never lose the joy in even the simplest of movements.

How would you teach?

2011-04-21T07:00:00.000-07:00

You take in information, sure. But can you relay that information to others and do it justice?

I'm officially a Teaching Assistant at my dojo/college now - it really doesn't change anything, but it'll look nice on my resume! On top of that, I'll be doing a session at taiko on karate and the basics of Shotokan, for us to experience what it's like moving in a way both similar and different to what we're used to. Even though I teach basics often enough, this time it's in a setting where I have a different role - instead of senior student, of senpai, I'm just another player.

So I've been thinking about how to teach basic fundamental techniques in a different way. How do I break down six weeks of basic material into 50 minutes? What to leave out? What has to stay in? How do I communicate the information without expecting compliance, like I get in the dojo?

Which brings me to my question to you, dear reader. You know an art, a skill, a trade. How would you teach it to a group of people who know nothing about it? What are the key points that you would make sure to cover? What would your demeanor be like?

Some of you may not care about this - maybe you feel you teach well enough or don't have to worry about teaching? In that case, instead of thinking about teaching to others, think about how it makes you approach the material in a different way, which in turn helps you understand the material better, which then can help you do it better.

And if you feel you don't need to understand it better, well then why are you reading my blog? You're obviously good enough to be a superstar. ;)

Question Everything: Tradition

2011-04-18T07:00:00.000-07:00

Most of you have heard some form of the "kumidaiko, or ensemble drumming has only been around for the last 60 years or so" speech.

So here's some questions for you. First, what is tradition? And second, when does what we do start becoming traditional?

Definitions of "tradition" get results like:

"The handing down of information, beliefs, and customs by word of mouth or by example from one generation to another without written instruction."
"The body of customs, thought, practices, etc., belonging to a particular country, people, family, or institution over a relatively long period."

The first example is how most taiko is taught and learned, not by text but through repetition, rote, and action. The word generation is something to look at, but I hear people talking about "the next generation of taiko player" often enough. That "next gen" is already performing!

In the second example, while the the entire NA taiko community is a little too diverse to be a "people" or "family", certain styles of taiko (community, collegiate, professional) could apply.

Most definitions touch on some sort of repetition over a period of time, but I was hard-pressed to find anything saying how long it takes to make a tradition. Think of the traditions you have that are annual, like a vacation spot or a thing you like to do on your birthday. Do you have to have done it for 60 years before it's a tradition? Probably not.

There are certain rhythms that come up often in NA taiko, both in composition and in soloing, like triplets. Is that a tradition? Most taiko gatherings I know tend to revolve around food, but is that a tradition?

A tradition definitely doesn't have to be something unique, either - do you bow before entering your dojo/studio? That's definitely a tradition. Do you warm up with your group counting in a cadence together? Do you bow to each other before you start practice? Traditions!

When does playing a song become a tradition? Is it more defined by when it's played or how often? Will someone decide when your songs are traditional, or will that only happen in hindsight? As usual, I don't try to answer all the questions I pose. My goal is to get you to come up with your own!

---

"tradition." Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary. 2008. Merriam-Webster Online. April 16 2011

"tradition." TheFreeDictionary.com. 2011. Farlex. April 16 2011

12 weeks, 12 songs: Month One

2011-04-14T07:00:00.000-07:00

Oy. Whose bright idea was it to write a song a week?

For the first month, I went off of musical ideas. I figured in the second month I could do visual inspiration, and for the last month I might try thematic...ah, themes. That was the original plan, but it's changing somewhat as I look past week five.

For each song, I kept somewhat of a creative diary of my thoughts and the process, as well as a simple picture (done in MS Paint; I'm so tech savvy) for the songs where I had a formation in mind.

As for the mp3s, there's a lot of visuals that aren't going to come across, from movements to ki. Also, it's not easily clear when parts are split between two or more similar instruments, so it will just sound like one person is playing a given part. Finally, places where there would be a improvised solo will just sound like a pattern played over and over since I'm not actually writing the solos in there. If something sounds really repetitive, odds are that's where a soloist would be.

So let me review the last 4 weeks, each with a new song (or something approximating a song.)

Week one:

I wanted to explore Indian rhythms to start, inspired by our recent collaboration with Abhinaya Dance Company and a general interest in Konnakol and complex patterns for some time now. I wanted to keep it more of a "inspired by" rather than trying to take actual patterns, simply because I don't feel like I know enough about Indian music at this point.

I found some fun patterns that came together well, and as I laid out the framework, I tried out some basic movements. A few worked out, but some were a bit awkward. One idea I really liked was the idea of having the initial drum formation - a sort of swastika - move into a row downstage.

Unfortunately, I discovered that it was the end of the week and I had three unconnected sections. As my rules stated, whatever I had by Sunday at midnight was where I had to leave it. Crap. Lesson learned!

What you'll hear in "Song 01" is a few chunks where you have a couple of click tracks for four bars. Those are filler bars, just to indicate where the separation is. If I really like this song when I'm done with the three months, I'll have to figure out what to put in those gaps.

Week two:

This week, I took another genre I've always wanted to see taiko played to - Heavy Metal! I don't know a lot of taiko players that enjoy heavy metal, let alone tolerate it, but it's something I've enjoyed. But that's a topic for another post!

The first problem came in not making every pattern just a straight beat! The second issue was in trying to convey the sensibilities of Heavy Metal without mocking it (headbanging, big hair, etc.). I had to deconstruct and define what the genre sounds like and figure out a way for it to translate through a taiko song.

This was my favorite product of the first four weeks, because it feels like a complete song, is of decent length, and has some nifty elements to it. I like the potential raw energy that the music contains, as well. One thing I would change if I were to take this further is to change the formation from six players on one drum each to four players on two drums each. This would give me some tonality to play with, even though it makes for even more equipment on stage.

Week three:

The goal for this week was to create a "catchy melody" in terms of rhythm; something memorable to an audience member.

My first few attempts were just a nifty ji, a pattern that would repeat in the back row over and over...not really a melody, though. After some random note-throwing, I came up with something that I can still remember 2 weeks after last hearing it. So it's got promise in terms of accomplishing the intent!

I envision this song on mostly mobile drums and percussion, and a lot of it depends on a playful attitude that won't come out in just listening to the music. There's humor and facial expressions that will make this song come to life.

As I wrote the song, I found myself composing an ending pattern that felt perfect where it was. Normally that's a great thing, but I didn't even have three minute's worth of a song. I spent about a day trying to figure out where to add time, but everything felt artificial. Even though I still think the song needs work, it's a decent transitional piece as it is.

Note: there is no formation for Song Three because it's mostly okedo moving around.

Week four:

Me and my novel ideas. Since this was my last week of musically-inspired songs, I wanted to have some fun. I would put all my mp3s into a playlist on "random", click on "next" for a random amount of time, and I would have to make a taiko version of whatever song was playing when I stopped clicking.

This is the song I landed on: "So Whatcha Want" by the Beastie Boys. At first, I thought it was going to be fun, but then I realized I'm writing a song that has a LOT of soloing, which means it's going to sound really boring without those solos (which is what the mp3 sounds like). Plus, any song with that many solos risks being less of a song and more just a bunch of people improvising...but hey, that's not the point of why I did it! It's not a direct "translation", but it keeps a lot of the patterns intact. I chose my conditions and I had to see what I could come up with.

I couldn't decide on what percussion to use, as you can see in the formation. There's also a lot of people switching between the slant drums to the front row/pod, and I want that to have a very relaxed, groovy, "hey, you're up next bro" sort of feel to it.

Ultimately I'm not sure if I would actually do anything with this song, but there it is!

Summary of month one:

I need to work faster. I'm scrambling at the end of the week through the weekend almost every time. I definitely enjoy composing more around concrete musical ideas that are a pattern rather than a concept. I'm already feeling hampered working on visual themes in month two; it's not how I usually compose.

Downloads:

*Please note! There are 4 possible links for each song. All links require you to wait a few seconds to download for free, or limit you to one download every few minutes. If you can't download anything from one row, go to another.*

Songs: (Mirrored hosts offered so you don't have to wait to download on the same site again.)
01 02 03 04
01 02 03 04
01 02 03 04
01 02 03 04
01-04 in a zipped file (for those who can open a .zip file; 10MB; includes notes)

Formations: (Red "X" indicates a player. Rectangles with a line across are slant stands.)
01 02 04

Notes:
01-04
01-04

Please let me know if you can't download/view the files; this is the first time I've tried anything like this!

Where are we?

2011-04-11T07:00:00.000-07:00

With Taiko Conference just around the corner, I've been thinking about what shape taiko has taken in North America and where it might go.

There's one camp that wants NA taiko to push well beyond the "safe" barriers it has created for itself, to break out of the traditions that are taking shape, and to be a more recognized and modern art form.

There's another camp that is composed of people who know very little outside of their own groups. Some groups are unaware that there are other taiko groups around outside of Japan, believe it or not. Although that's a very small number, can you imagine? Other groups are aware, but prefer to be isolated, often because their "way" is the only "way" they feel matters.

Yet another camp just plays to play. Maybe they like connecting to their Japanese roots, or always grew up hearing the sound of the taiko, or *gasp* it's just fun!

No one will ever have a blanket answer for what taiko should be in NA. Even if you said, "but we all play because we love taiko," that's not always true. I've known a few people that have played out of a sense of duty, instead.

So where does that leave us? I have a feeling NA taiko will have a few groups/people that push the art form to new levels and new audiences, but for the most part people are just happy to be a part of whatever taiko means to them. Ultimately, as long as we respect each other's paths, it's all good.

To be or not to be...

2011-04-07T07:00:00.000-07:00

No, this post isn't about Shakespeare, it's about acting!

If you've read my blog for a while, you'll note that I often talk about intention. To me, there's very little difference between intention and ki, until you get into philosophical areas...which I will not!

As a performer, intention is what's behind projection, presence, and spirit. These are those intangibles which draw your eye to a performer, whether it's a martial artist, dancer, taiko player, etc. However, both ends of the spectrum catch our eye, whether it's the performer exuding confidence or the one without energy, creating a "dead spot" on stage. So how do you generate intention?

For martial artists, I've yet to see someone doing a kata while smiling, because the idea is that you are simulating stylized combat. Even if you're not all that experienced, you know that the mindset is more serious than joyful, and your energy should reflect it on your face and body language. Still, it's easy to spot those who are going through the motions and those who are "involved in combat" as I put it. The difference is in acting, although I don't hear people referring to it as such. I'm not punching the air, I'm knocking someone out. I'm not blocking for the sake of blocking, I'm breaking someone's arm. It's a mindset that I enter; a role that I put on. In other words, I'm acting! If I don't have that mindset, then my techniques will look weaker and most likely be weaker, as well.

For taiko players, you may have more than one mood of song that you play, so you have to be able to distinguish what kind of energy you want to project. How do you switch between "happy" in one song, to "stoic" in the next, to "mischievous" after that? The answer is simple, really: be happy, stoic, or mischievous! The hard part is doing it convincingly, to the audience as well as yourself. Some moods are harder than others, especially if it's one you're not familiar with (imagine a song that required you to be "ethereal"!) Part of doing this well is in wanting to be a better performer. We spend countless hours learning how to strike well, how to stay together as a group, even how to move the drums around on stage, but we rarely practice our visage. I would often get comments in SJT that I needed to show "more intention" in my face. Ok, but how? A furrowed brow just makes me look angry, and if I tilt my head just wrong, I look...well, angrier. So what do I do? Hell, I'm still working on that.

But what helps is really trying to get into that role, and not letting any feelings of awkwardness stop me. It's really easy to laugh when we feel uncomfortable; it's a defense mechanism. Try getting a few feet away from a mirror and holding faces for a long time without chuckling. Try to be "intense" for 2 minutes without flinching away from your reflection - can you? If not, how can you do it on stage while drumming and moving and listening and...you get my point, right?

I'm no expert on intention or acting as a performer, but I feel comfortable doing it. When people ask me, "how do you get confidence on stage?", I answer, "fake it at first." It's not easy, no, but imagine what a confident person looks like when they play. How would you mimic that? In time, you may find that you're doing less mimicry and more of your own expression. Another thing I do, especially during solos, is own that spot. For those short moments, I want to express myself, do justice to the composer, and entertain the audience, all while keeping in tempo and mood. Again, if that sounds daunting, try faking it and see if you can't use that facade as a useful training tool!

I've seen people with moderate ability "sell it" extremely well, but I've also seen those with talent hide it unintentionally. Whether it's appearing to be confident, trying to convey an emotion, or just not being a dead spot on stage, you have to take on a role - to act - in order to not only make the audience "believe" what you're projecting, but also for you to believe it as well. It's a skill that most of us have to work on. Don't give up!

Question Everything: Training

2011-04-04T07:00:00.000-07:00

A couple of weeks ago, my dojo held its quarterly belt testing. During the advanced test, the one person running through the test was having a serious issue with his endurance. He started strong, as to be expected, but petered out way too early. Even when normal breaks were given, he never was able to come back with a second wind.

He knows full-well that endurance has been his greatest deficit, and he's tried to fix it. He'll jump rope before classes start, and he tries to push hard in class. But in talking to the other black belts, we realized his way of training endurance is the wrong way. He's bursting, not pushing. He's training to sprint when he needs to do a marathon.

We're not planning to keep this realization from him; I know next time I see him I'll mention it. Still, as many things do, it got me to thinking. How many ways do we train or prepare for something inefficiently?

For example, if you have trouble remembering the sequence of a song or a form, how do you fix that? Maybe it's taking a really long time to go through it over and over, so you could ask someone to do it, videotape them from different angles, and review it at your leisure.

I won't list a bunch of different ways that this could apply, simply because it would make for too long of a post. My point is that when you look at what you need to work on, there may be better ways to approach it than what decide to try. Look at how other people tackle it, ask people you respect how they would do it, or at the very least think of alternatives. You may find that you are already doing it the best way that will work for you, but isn't it better to know?

NATC 2011 recommendations!

2011-03-31T07:00:00.000-07:00

If you hadn't heard, registration for the 2011 North American Taiko Conference has started over at www.taikoconference.org. For those who are new (or relatively new) to NATC , I'd like to offer some suggestions! Mind you, these are just my opinions. :)

Overall:

Make connections! If you're standing in line at registration, in a discussion session, a workshop, etc., find out who's next to you and introduce yourself. The friendships that come from conference can last a long time, and you never know who'll pass by your practices one day!
Try not to stick with your own group so much. You get to see them all the time! It'll limit the people you get to meet and can come off as clique-ish to others.
Don't forget to enjoy yourself! The schedule is packed pretty tight, but if you don't make time for yourself to breathe, you'll burn yourself out. You'll enjoy yourself more if you don't try to do everything.
The schedule doesn't account for lot of stuff. There's traditionally been a gathering/party right after Taiko Jam, and there used to be parties held on the rooftop of the hotels in Little Tokyo or the clubs/bars each night. Who knows what you might find!

Workshops:

If you haven't experienced some of the taiko "classics" (Tanaka-sensei, Roy & PJ Hirabayashi, etc.) make sure you sign up now while you can! Who can say when they'll stop teaching at NATC? Don't wait two years only to find out that they've retired...
Even though there are instructors from Japan, don't assume that automatically means a better workshop. Base a workshop on what you want to learn and the expertise of a person, as well as what you can find out about their teaching style.
I personally recommend:

Body Music Workshop (Keith Terry). Learning how to internalize rhythm in your body is something any taiko player can use. Plus, Keith is a great teacher. I've had several workshops with him outside of taiko circles and still use what he taught me.
Improvisation - Spontaneous Creativity (Russel Baba). Russel is one of those "classics" that has a style and manner you can't find anywhere else.
Anything by Kenny Endo. Kenny knows his stuff. Aside from the actual drills I learned, the perspective and ideas he can give are worth a workshop in themselves.
Anything by Roy and/or PJ. The amount of experience that both of these have is amazing, and they have a variety of topics that they can teach well.

Afterwards:

Take what you learned and apply it! Practice songs and drills, write down anything you remember before it's lost to time. Ten years from now, are you going to remember everything told to you over those three days?
Keep in touch with the people you got to know. Whether it's Facebook or an email or something more personal, thank those who touched you and made your experience special.

-----

Ultimately, conference is a blast, no matter what you do! These are just my ideas and suggestions based the last 6 NATCs that I've been at. I hope to see most of you there - look for the tall pale guy avoiding the sun!

Strengths and Weaknesses

2011-03-28T07:00:00.000-07:00

I hear a lot of people tell me what they're bad at. Sure it's good to identify those things, to a point.

So what about the things you're good at?

Make a list of three things you're good at (related to your art), whether it's visual, musical, ki-related, etc. They don't have to be three things you're better at than other people, just things you feel are strengths of yours.

If you want, you can also make add three things you really want to get better at, to make it a more well-rounded experience. Just be careful not to think of them as "things I suck at", because that's already taking a bite out of your confidence.

Simply making the list is the point here. If you acknowledge those three strengths, you'll always have something that reflects your style. You may find that someone does those things better than you, but comparing yourself to other people like that is ultimately self-defeating. Again, I focus on the word style here. Also, if you acknowledge the other three "areas of interest", as I like to call it, then you have things you know will make you an improved artist if you work at it.

I admit, I'm a list-oriented person. Writing short lists down (or creating them mentally) helps me see things clearly and helps me focus on what matters. My hope here is to give people more of a balanced look at their skill set, instead of seeing only the "bad".

Take a song, play along!

2011-03-24T07:00:00.000-07:00

Hey, it's a video! Click on it after you read my post, or you can click on it now since I'm not there to stop you...

In the clip above, I'm playing along to "Skylight" by Overseer. The idea is that by playing along to a song I'm familiar with, I can improvise, riff, embellish, and/or play along with it. It's like having a metronome with a strong, groovy beat.

As I compose songs like crazy for these 12 weeks, I don't have time to get into the studio and pull out drums to experiment. What you see above is my own personal "drum studio", complete with four, yes FOUR drum pads resting on my bed! Extravagant, I know. Actually, I wanted to show a bit behind my creative process and also show that it doesn't take much to hone your own striking skills.

Most of us have played along to music we like - have you ever tapped on your lap or the steering wheel while in the car? All I'm doing here is swiveling my chair around and thumping away to whatever comes out of my hands. You don't even need a drum pad, you can use a phone book or get creative with towels, chairs, etc. I use a pair of western drumsticks because I like the feel, but I can flip them over and they double as shime bachi.

So that's my drill for you: Take a song, play along! Then repeat it about 1,000 times. :)

Question Everything: Movements

2011-03-21T07:00:00.000-07:00

In karate, we learn forms as beginners and continue all the way through black belt. We practice them, analyze them, sometimes even modify them.

In Shotokan, there are forms with some ah...questionable movements that are more interesting than effective. In many cases the idea is to "understand the hidden meaning", but even with that some of them come off as being laughable.

It takes some time to realize what these movements are, and then even more time to become comfortable saying, "I think these movements are idealistic/unrealistic."

For example, in the kata Heian Godan, there is a leap into the air, landing with a block. Traditional sources say the move is to avoid someone swinging a staff at your feet and then you land with an attack. Riiiiight. It's probably more likely it's to condition the legs by incorporating athleticism into the form. Still, some teachers stick to the staff "defense" interpretation.

It makes me wonder, what sort of movements are there in taiko that are equally ridiculous? Movements that students are told make the strikes louder or something like "increasing one's ki", but really have no basis in fact? I can think of some things I've seen that are simply stylistic, but I also know people come up with some pretty fantastical concepts that they can feed an eager student.

Can you distinguish "style" from "nonsense?" "Hidden meanings" from "crazy in the head?" :)

New Song Diary: Rain check!

2011-03-17T07:00:00.000-07:00

Short post today. Since I've tackled this 12-week/12-song project, I have to postpone the song idea I was ~~muddling through~~ working on. It's for the best, because my project will wring the creativity from my head and force products.

Since we'll be working on songs soon for the Fall concert, it doesn't look like I'll be writing anything new for performing this year. Still, I'm looking more long-term and if I wind up with three or four solid ideas from this process, that will be an incredible result.

Back to the grind! Only a few days to go for song #1!

No workshops = sad face.

2011-03-14T07:00:00.000-07:00

I submitted two workshops for NATC 2011 but neither were accepted this time.

Admittedly, I was really bummed to hear it because I'd been looking forward to teaching at least one workshop for the past year or so. I've gotten over the initial disappointment and focused on working with the Workshop Coordinator to make the workshop process better for future conferences.

Although nothing has been established, I may have a chunk of time (or more) at San Jose Taiko's Taiko Weekend Intensive in May when we focus on small-drum/shime work. Although it's shorter lengths of time to what I teach at my NATC workshops, I do get to present some similar material at TWI.

Today begins my first week of my 12 week, 12 songs project, so hopefully that'll keep my mind off workshops for a while!

12 weeks, 12 songs: Prologue

2011-03-10T07:00:00.000-08:00

Last Saturday, SJT held an internal Composition Retreat. The goal was less about coming up with a product and more about helping people know how they create, the tendencies of other people, and some creative exercises to get the juices flowing.

To that end, I found the day a success for the group; less so for me because I find I already know how I work best.

Still, I did get one crazy idea: I want to try writing a song a week for 12 weeks. Why 12 weeks? Because 52 weeks is insane! Seriously though, three months just sounded like a manageable chunk of time, and it'll be over just as the gigs start getting more and more plentiful.

I'm giving myself some rules.

No working on a song until Monday. This includes thinking of a concept or idea that I want to develop.
Sunday deadline. No matter what, Sunday is the last day I can work on a song started the previous Monday. If I'm out and have ideas that I can't put down until Monday or later, it's ok to do so.
Beginning, middle, end. I may have more than this, but those three sections are the minimum requirements to make a "song."

I also want to have a little fun with the process. Every 4th week, I'm going to pick ideas out of a hat (or something) and that will determine what parameters I have to work with. I'm thinking of a "visual", "musical", and "wildcard" category to choose from. So for example, I might wind up with "straight beat", "mobile percussion", and "intense", and those would be what defines the song I have to then create.

I may come away from this with absolutely nothing, but I hope that even if none of the songs are actually workable, I'll be able to use some of the ideas for future pieces. It'll force me to dump a lot of product in a short amount of time and might help me build creative momentum.

As for documenting, I'll try to figure out a way to make an mp3 of each "song" and perhaps also put up the sheet music somewhere for people who are curious. I'll blog about it once a month to give a summary of what I've done.

Stay tuned!

Metronome Love: Slooooooooow.

2011-03-06T07:00:00.000-08:00

Get out your metronome and play any song you know at half the normal speed. Yes, half!

It may not even sound like the song you're used to hearing, which is part of the difficulty. Can you still feel the rhythms you're so used to? Can you slow down your movements to still keep proper timing? Are you able to hit on the beat smoothly or are you finding yourself striking too early/too late?

It may sound simple, but there's more to it than just the musical aspects. Take note of your body and how you strike. What are your tendencies? Are you aligned properly? Are you holding tension?

This may seem like a simple drill, but playing a pattern at such a slow tempo can really reveal a lot of things. It's up to you to find them!

Question Everything: Giving it your all.

2011-03-03T07:00:00.000-08:00

I've talked about pushing yourself to do more, try harder, etc. So what does that really entail?

In karate, "pushing myself" means to throw every technique as fast and as strong as I can, without losing proper technique. There's no holding back or pacing myself. Depending on the workout, I can be sweating by the first 5 minutes just by doing basics.

Sometimes I'll catch myself doing a pace that's a little easy at times just because I'm used to it and it frustrates me. Why did I not give it my all? Why did I go through the motions (no matter how strong or fast those motions might be)?

In taiko, I can't give every strike my "all." To do that would be to over-hit, to risk playing notes too early, and to stand out visually even more from the group. So...how much do I give?

I feel it's more important to honor the intention of the song and style of your group than to just blindly go all-out. You can put in a lot of energy by putting out a lot of energy, for one. Project your ki past where you can reach, past the drums. When you're playing a supporting role, this is especially true.

Because taiko is music and art and dance all mixed into one, you don't necessarily get to do things exactly how you want to. You're in effect limited by the composition, but that's really not a bad thing - it's the delivery mechanism for your expression!

As a taiko player, you have to find ways to push your endurance and spirit and endurance and passion, aside from just waiting for that really hard solo or long passage that makes you tired. For instance, how much energy can put out just by standing there, being still, yet projecting spirit?

It doesn't matter how athletic you are, because ultimately, "giving it your all" is more of a mindset. How much you can give depends on what you're doing, as well as you.

Observation.

2011-02-28T07:00:00.000-08:00

When you're at practice, how are you evaluating yourself?

Maybe you're lucky enough to have mirrors, but are you truly utilizing them or are you just used to looking at your reflection? I wrote a post on mirrors here, and I still see people looking at them while practicing, but without really being able to make adjustments.

Are you looking at other people (mirrors or no) that you deem to be good examples and trying to copy them? It's the same thing with mirrors; if you're looking out of habit but not trying to implement what you're seeing, why bother looking?

I see a lot of people who look at the drum while they play. While there are a few things you can adjust by watching what you're striking, it's not really a great place to look.

There's also an option of closing your eyes and listening to what you (and others) sound like, but it should be done when beneficial, not just because you want to enjoy the music! Is your left hand equal in volume with your right? Are you playing right on the beat or not?

Finally, when you get to watch and not play, what are you looking at? Nothing wrong with just enjoying it, but assuming you're looking at technique, how are you doing it? Are you seeing what people are doing incorrectly and making sure you don't do it yourself?

My point, really, is all about using your time efficiently and effectively. Think about what you're looking at, why you're looking at it, and what benefits you should be getting from it. Don't just practice to go through the motions!

Snap!

2011-02-24T07:00:00.000-08:00

There are a lot of things that are important to have in playing taiko. And there are a lot of things that are important to work on, too. If I had to choose what my main focus is, it would be wrist snap.

I've posted previously about how important wrist snap is in a post here.

One attribute that a truly good taiko player will have is fluidity. Their arms are like whips in slow motion, thrown and snapped at will. Slower motions come from the hara, at the hips, propelling energy that the arms ride on. Faster motions are focused on the fulcrums of the wrists. A lot of people think the motion is generated from the shoulders or arm, but ironically that's the last place it should come from. Using the shoulders or arms only slows you down and makes you look awkward.

When you don't have wrist snap, you can only rely on three things. Gravity, size, and strength. To some degree, those are useful, but...what happens when the notes get smaller and/or faster? Gravity is great for large motions; let the arm collapse towards the drum and hardly use any energy. But when your bachi aren't even a foot away from the drum, how are you going to utilize it? Size can only useful if you have it to begin with, but even if you do, when everyone's bachi are only a few inches away from the drum, any size advantage is gone. Strength sometimes can be useful, but to use strength you have to use tension, which is going to nullify the relaxation you need for "snappage."

Once you have wrist snap down, you can play any volume you want from any distance you want. You're not bound by the height you strike from; you can make large motions and play the quietest notes. It makes you feel like you're in control of your music instead of the other way around. Common patterns like don tsuku or doro tsuku take a third less effort, simply from utilizing good wrist snap.

If I could, I'd give everyone who was interested a workshop on striking efficiency - as it is I only have my blog and workshops at NATC. It would be awesome to go visit groups on my own someday and share this stuff with a lot of people! Maybe someday...

Communities

2011-02-21T07:00:00.000-08:00

What communities are you a part of?

I would like people to think about what they mean when they invoke that word, "community". I hear a lot of talk about the taiko community, the North American taiko community, the Japanese-American community, etc. People often refer to themselves as a part of a community, but when are you truly a part of something?

If I buy a taiko online and practice on my own, how is that part of any community? Does the love of playing taiko automatically enroll me? If someone plays taiko, when are they a part of the taiko community? Or do they need to somehow get involved and/or contribute to that community to be a part of it?

If someone is born into an ethnic group, does that make them part of that community? What if they identify with another culture altogether? Which community (or communities) do they belong to? Or is it simply a matter of them saying "I choose this one, therefore I belong here"?

The other aspect to community is identifying which communities you could be involved in. As taiko players, we tend to focus too much on the above three communities: "taiko", "NA taiko", and "J-A". There's nothing wrong with those, but what about local arts communities? Local music communities? Non-profit communities? Others? It's not that we have to be active in every community possible, but more about realizing that there might be a larger overlap than we're immediately aware of.

Ultimately, community is what you make of it. Just give the concept some thought before you throw it out there too casually!

Ripples.

2011-02-17T07:00:00.000-08:00

PJ likes to talk about the ripple effect; how the actions of one person ripple outwards and affect the lives of others, who in turn affect others, and so on. I've been thinking lately about how ripples effect the taiko community.

Can you think of someone you met in your taiko experiences that really affected you? Was it something they said or the way they said it? Was it what you saw them doing? Was it something you didn't see but were told about? Was it a positive or negative thing? Did it have a positive or negative impact on you?

I can remember hearing quotes and stories attributed to people that made me really interested to seek them out, in terms of teaching and approach to art. It was a welcoming ripple that got my attention. I also remember hearing quotes and stories attributed to people that made me want to avoid them. It was a harsh ripple, one that often left me in disbelief that people would say or do such things.

It's hard sometimes to step back and see leaders in the community as just people. We place them in high regard and their words have weight. We want our teachers to say profound things because that means we feel like we've made a good choice to study under them.

The longer that one is in an art form, the more information and perspective they can provide. Unfortunately, age and experience don't necessarily lend themselves to good communication skills. It's much like being a job with a supervisor that lacks social skills, except that for most of us, we can choose to approach/avoid whom we want in the taiko community.

Granted, there are some possible positives from negative ripples. I've seen people get angry and give their advice in ways that turned people off...but from that you can learn how not to be.

It's not just what you say but how you say it. It's not just your intentions but the tone of your words. So what ripples do you create?

Choosing a group

2011-02-14T07:00:00.000-08:00

One of the requests I got for topics was that on choosing a group and evaluating over time if that group is still right for you.

During a discussion session at the Taiko Conference held in Sacramento, one woman said how she didn't like the "cliquey-ness" of her group; how if you didn't know Japanese you couldn't really get into the "inner circle". One of the panelists responded, putting it best: maybe that wasn't the group for her, then.

It's not always easy to find the right group for you. It's easier with martial arts, since they're a lot more wide-spread and it's easier to find something you like. Although there are exceptions, you can generally find more than one style/dojo to choose from in a given area.

With taiko, well, it's a different story. There's reportedly over 300 taiko groups in North America, but does that mean there's a handful right by you? Take into account that many of those groups are church- or college-based, where you have to be a member. Or perhaps the group is for the wrong age range that you're in.

Most people, including myself, fall in love with taiko and know little to nothing of the art when they start. We scramble to find the nearest group and assuming they'll take us, we want to join! It's not ideal, but it's common. It would be better to find all the groups in the area, observe a practice, find out about their core values and goals, then choose which one to join. But who really has a choice? Groups are spread out pretty thin, like I said, and the options are pretty limited. If I didn't join SJT, my closest option would have been a good hour away. And I'm in a place with "moderate" taiko density!

Most of us will put up with a lot to be in a taiko group, but it's always important to think about how and where you fit in. Are the members people you want to hang around with? Are the commitments you have to make to the group balanced out by what they offer? Is simply "playing the taiko" enough for you or will you want more? Do they provide opportunities for "more"? It's a lot to ask, but if you don't know the answers, you might find yourself invested in a group years down the line, that you're ill-fit for. Also, don't think this is a question that you'd only ask once - you need to ask this of yourself even after you're in a group! Groups change over time, so re-evaluate where you are every now and then; don't let things move around you without being aware of how they affect you.

I'd bet money that the high majority of people who read this are already in a taiko group of some sort, so it's a bit late to ask "should I join this group?" But you should never stop asking yourself if the group is right for you. Accepting your place without question is ok for some people, but I see it as the lazy path!

5.

2011-02-10T07:00:00.000-08:00

The number of beats in any given measure of music determines the meter. That's a simplified way to put it, but it works. Most music you listen to is in 4, though there probably are exceptions and many songs have changing meter within them.

When I started taiko, 4 was easy. 1 2 3 4, how hard is that? Okay, there were some patterns that wove around those four beats, but still, I could feel where the 1 would fall pretty easily. 2 and 8 are closely related to 4, so closely that it's often hard to tell which is which. It's still pretty easy to feel a 2 or an 8 because Western music conditions us to feel things in 4 even if its halved or doubled.

3 and 6 are not as common or as easy to feel, but still very accessible. 6 is the backbone of African percussion and 3 is a common meter in traditional Korean music. 6 is very often felt in 2, with a ONE-2-3-FOUR-5-6 pulse. 3, being an odd number, can be sometimes trickier, because it's "off balance".

Then we get the oddballs.

For the longest time, 7 was this not-quite-8 pattern to me. Ok, so you just drop off one note at the end and you get 7, meh. Why make something awkward in that that meter? But as the years went by, more and more of the random patterns I would create while walking around turned out in 7. I didn't plan them that way, either! 7 became more and more interesting to me; it had an energy that 8 was lacking.

Now I turn to 5, that little freak. Whereas 7 felt to me like "almost-8", 5 doesn't have that same relation to 6. It feels more like "4 with a tail". When I used to play in 5 for fun, I was flailing about, blindingly groping for the downbeat on the 1. It's taken some time and some tricks to understand 5 better, but I find that I'm creating patterns out of the blue in 5 like I used to do in 7.

When we did our collaboration with Abhinaya Dance Company last year, I had to play a pattern on the taiko in 5 by myself while everyone moved about. The Indian musicians were playing underneath me but I couldn't hear them until much later in the song. A few years ago, that would have worried the snot out of me, but I'm glad I put some time into making 5 familiar instead of scary.

There's no real message or moral to the story here. I guess if you want, you can see it as a progression over time, one which anyone can have if they choose to put in the effort. It is empowering! For me, I'm just glad I'm not afraid of anything under 8. 9, well that's another matter. :)