Identity, self, me, art!

In the end of my last post, I talked about knowing one's self and realizing that the self is part of the instrument/art. I want to touch on that some more. Hang on, the ride gets bumpy.

In my case, it doesn't matter whether I'm practicing karate or taiko - I *am* the instrument; I am the art. Without me, there is no music, no taiko playing. Without me, there is no punching, no kicking. Yes, others can and will do those things, but I'm specifically talking about each person as an individual.

Taiko is Japanese.

People add often attachments to things because that's what they were taught or what they assumed to be so. For instance, if you ask someone if karate is Japanese, they will say "yes." But what does that mean? Does Japan "own" the art? It was created in Japan, developed in Japan, but it's spread and evolved worldwide. I could say it's a Japanese art form, but no one owns the art. It can't be put into a box and kept in a closet. This goes for any art form. No one can own a concept, I don't care what the lawyers might argue.

The same is true for taiko - created and developed in Japan, but the evolution of the art has a lot to do with where it's traveled. Taiko, introduced to North America, developed a much different flavor, both losing and adding elements from what it came over as. The journey was not one-way however, and in returning to Japan with the NA flavors, it again had impact and went through the same process as it did coming out here. It still goes on to this day.

My favorite example is Kodo, the god-kings of taiko. One thing Kodo became famous for were "crossovers". Playing a katsugi okedo (lighter roped drum slung across the shoulder horizontally at waist level), Kodo introduced the taiko audience to the left hand alternating between right and left drum head (while the right played every other note, stationary) very, very fast. Guess what? That came from seeing the Korean group, SamulNori, do the very same thing with their slung roped drums. *gasp* And now, crossovers are pretty darned common - maybe not easy, but a lot of people do them compared to before.

I try to respect people who cling to the idea that taiko has to be Japanese, but it's often hard to enter into a truly open debate about the issue with them. They *want* it to be Japanese. It makes it...more special to them? Maybe they want to be Japanese in some manner, and the link to Japan validates them more somehow. (See my previous post on that whole hoo-ha.) However, that makes a label more important than the art. I believe it is truly important to understand *where* your art came from, yes. Notice how no one ever says, "where your art is" or "where your art goes home and sleeps at night after a long day at work"? Ok, I'm being silly. Sue me.

Arts evolve, and evolution doesn't have to be a big step (like the Neo-Cubist movement or mixed martial arts). Unless a person was born to Japanese parents, in Japan, and plays taiko on Japanese drums, some people will consider it "not Japanese taiko". If a person doesn't care what others think, and thinks, "well, I am playing Japanese taiko", I just hope they've asked themselves, "why is that important to me?"

The beauty about taiko (and taiko is not unique in this) is that taiko can be whatever you want it to be, as long as you realize it's going to be potentially different to everyone else. To a group in Japan, to a group in the UK, to a group in Brazil, taiko will be different things. Once you say, "but taiko should be..." then you're already four words into being wrong. :)

The taiko is special/sacred.

It struck me funny when I came to realize this is so not true. Any musician worth their salt will take care of their instrument (barring smashing a guitar at a rock concert!) I've met some taiko players who think the taiko is the only instrument that has a soul, a spirit, but that comes from not knowing other musical traditions! I could go into the myriad of other instruments, let alone drums, that have a spiritual/sacred component in other cultures, but I'm not going to.

The taiko is a drum. It doesn't do anything unless it's played. Some people believe that the taiko, being made of natural elements (wood, hide, metal) retains a natural spirit, and in playing the taiko well, that spirit can be brought out. I can respect that belief, and my own group espouses that belief, but still - it's just a DRUM! It's usually an expensive drum, mind you, and setting your coffee on it shows a lack of common sense.

Here's the interesting thing, sort of the "missing link". If the taiko needs the player to make the spirit (or even just the sound) to emerge, then the PLAYER is another part of the instrument. So if the player is just as important, why is the player never considered sacred or special?

Ok, sure, I'm sure there are some who do take that into consideration, but those are very rare cases. My point is, there are taiko players who smoke, who are jerks, etc. So...how does that effect the taiko when they are playing it? To keep the taiko "special" in that case would mean putting it in a glass case and never playing it, lest someone somehow "soil" it, right? Well that's just silly. I can only name four people that I've personally heard talk about the importance of the player in taiko. Really, no one ever seems to think about it amongst the talk about the taiko this and the taiko that. Don't forget about the player!

...in practical terms, please?

So in more practical terms, when thinking of the player as part of the instrument, I've heard over and over again how the "true" self comes out when one plays taiko. And that, I agree with to a large part. People that aren't certain of themselves broadcast that to the audience. People who are generally ill-tempered or low in the humor department often look like the "dead zone" on stage amongst the rest. Those who may not have a lot of skill or experience, but are having a blast usually make the audience take notice. Socially awkward people often move in awkward ways. Getting the point? Taiko players are the taiko, the art of it anyways.

This isn't exclusive to taiko, or even music. It's an inward eye that isn't always easy to keep open; we see the flaws as well as the strengths in ourselves and sometimes choosing to see nothing is easier than honest inner dialogue.