Showing posts with label jazz. Show all posts
Showing posts with label jazz. Show all posts

Wednesday, 14 September 2022

SWEDEN Q and A (from 2018)


1. Sweden takes place in 1968, a very tumultuous year in American history. What makes this story relevant 50 years later, in 2018?

 

1968 was a tumultuous year not only in American history, but in world history. It's certainly timely that Sweden is being published on the 50th anniversary of that year, which is when most of the events in the novel take place, but it's purely coincidental. I started writing the novel in 2010, with no idea when, or even if, it would be published.

 

But to answer the question, though much has changed over the last 50 years, much remains the same. As was the case in 1968, the U.S. is entangled in a war overseas with no end in sight. The war in Afghanistan has been going on for sixteen and a half years, and looks set to overtake the Vietnam War as America's longest war.

 

In the U.S. itself, the fight against racism continues. The Black Lives Matter movement claims inspiration from the civil rights and Black Power movements of the 50s and 60s, and there are parallels between its decentralized, non-hierarchical structure and non-violent tactics and the structure and tactics adopted by the social movements of 50 years ago.

 

The fight against sexism, too, is ongoing, with the emergence of the #MeToo movement calling to mind the rise of second-wave feminism in the 1960s.

The Never Again MSD movement is another group that harks back to 1968, not only in its organization and tactics, but also in its membership of predominantly young people.

 

Those in power will always oppose people pushing for social change—whether they are advocating for greater freedom, equality, or a world without war—because they have a vested interest in maintaining the status quo. This universal conflict, and the willingness of people to pursue their ideals even at great personal cost, lies at the heart of Sweden

 

2. The late 1960s was a period of increasing globalization, particularly with regard to music and arts. How did these circumstances tie into relations and connections between the characters?

 

The advent of videotape and live satellite transmission revolutionized television in the 1960s, helping bring the world closer together. For the first time in history, people could view events unfolding on the other side of the world live in their living rooms. The role television reportage of the Vietnam War played in hastening the end of that conflict has been well documented. In Sweden, an African American deserter watches coverage on Japanese television of the civil unrest that followed the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr. He is shocked, both at the death of MLK and the violence that is ripping his country apart, and the regret he feels at the possibility that he may never be able to return to the U.S. is assuaged. 

 

Separate to this, the emergence of the U.S. as a superpower after World War II was a catalyst for the spread of American culture worldwide. The Japanese already had a generally favorable view of America in the wake of the occupation, and were particularly receptive to American culture in the form of American films, music, and fashion. And though the Japanese public were overwhelmingly opposed to the Vietnam War, this did not translate into widespread animosity towards the U.S. or Americans, even among those who protested against the war. For example, two prominent figures in the Japanese anti-Vietnam War movement and members of the group that assisted Vietnam deserters in Japan, Makoto Oda and Shunsuke Tsurumi, both felt an affinity for America, in part due to their having studied at university there. Another character in the novel is a fan of jazz music, which was and still is remarkably popular in Japan. American jazz musicians who toured Japan in the 1960s received the kind of welcome usually reserved for pop stars. 

 

3. Sweden is historical fiction. Tell us about the research that went into writing the story. Where and how did you do your research? Which resources did you use?

 

I did most of my research by reading books, both in English and in Japanese. An unusually large number of the members of the group that aided Vietnam deserters in Japan were, or went on to become, writers, and so the Japanese-language literature on the subject is plentiful. I also read firsthand accounts by some of the deserters themselves. While researching and writing Sweden, I traveled to many of the locations in Japan where the novel is set, including Yokohama, Kyoto, Kamakura, Sapporo, Kushiro, and Nemuro. In addition, I drew on my memories of earlier trips to Kagoshima and New York in writing the scenes set in those cities. (I have never been to Sweden.)

   

4. You are a writer from New Zealand, writing a book about American history in Japan. Why did you choose this subject for Sweden?

 

Given my educational, work and personal background, it was probably inevitable that my first novel would have some connection to Japan. I chose the subject of Japanese anti-war activists helping American Vietnam War deserters because it had fascinated me from the time I first heard about it. The main themes of the novel—opposition to war, and the exploration and pursuit of non-authoritarian alternatives to the nuclear family and the nation-state—are also dear to my heart. 

 

To be honest, I never thought of Sweden as a novel about American history. My main aim was to tell the story of JATEC (the organization that helped the deserters), and to tie this in with other events happening in Japan at around the same time, such as the student occupations, and in so doing address the above themes, which I regard as universal. But in the course of telling this story I became intrigued by the deserters themselves. I also realized that concentrating more on these characters would bring the story to life and give it wider appeal. 

 

5. How did you first come across the history of the deserters? What drew you to their stories?

 

I first came across this history while living in Japan in the early 1990s. I was working as a freelance translator, but spent a lot of my spare time reading about Japanese anarchists and the movements they were involved in, mainly before the war (a topic I returned to in 1996 as part of my research at Keio University). It was in the course of this reading that I came across the rudiments of the story that forms the basis of Sweden. At that time, however, the internet was still in its infancy, and my efforts to find out more about this subject proved fruitless. It was not until 2010, when I decided I wanted to write a novel, that I returned to the subject, and found that in the intervening years quite a lot had been written about it. And thanks to the internet, much of this information was readily available. 

 

I suppose I was drawn to this history because of its political dimension and because it was a classic David and Goliath struggle, with a small group of idealistic young anti-war activists and deserters taking on the U.S. military and the U.S. and Japanese governments. But I also saw it as an opportunity to enlighten people about a series of events that are not widely known outside of Japan.

 

6. What first drew you to Japanese culture and society?

 

My mother studied and later taught Eastern religions at the University of Canterbury, and so as a teenager I was surrounded at home by books about Asia as well as Buddhist images and so on. Later, my parents taught English at a private language school for overseas students, most of who were Japanese. This was when I was in my early 20s. I was unemployed and bored (I had dropped out of university partway through my second year), so I used to go along to the school at lunchtime to talk with the students. This got me interested in learning Japanese. I started taking night classes at the local polytechnic, then studied Japanese full-time for a year. The rest, as they say, is history.

 

7. How did you ensure that you captured an accurate representation of Japanese culture in 1968? What research did you do to write Sweden?

 

In addition to the reading mentioned above, I viewed lots of photographs and videos of Japan in the late 1960s. My research also included re-watching the James Bond movie You Only Live Twice, which was filmed in Japan in 1966-67. One day, while browsing a secondhand bookstore, I came across a guidebook published in the 1960s titled Japan on $5 a Day. It was full of useful details such as the names of restaurants and the prices of meals, hotel rooms, and train tickets. I also lurked on an internet forum where former U.S. military personnel who were based in Japan in the 1960s reminisced about their experiences. And I spent far too long in transport museums in Japan viewing, touching, and taking photos of railway cars and streetcars from the 1960s.   

 

8. You spend a lot of time walking around Japan, as does one of the main characters in Sweden. What elements from your personal journeys have you included in Sweden?

 

In Sweden, one of the deserter characters, Flynn, walks from Kamakura to Tokyo after going AWOL. I walked most of this route in 2009 when I hiked the Tokaido, and drew on this experience in describing Flynn's walk, including the simple pleasure of viewing hydrangeas in the rain. Later, Flynn walks from San Francisco to Bingham County in Idaho.

 

I included long-distance walking in the novel partly for the same reason that I included jazz, because I am obsessed with it. But I also wanted to allude to what I believe is the therapeutic value of walking. Flynn has been traumatized by his experiences in Vietnam, and while he never fully recovers, possibly due to some underlying psychological issues, he finds solace in walking and the walk from Kamakura to Tokyo in particular represents the first leg on his road to recovery and the restoration of his faith in humanity, which has been shaken by his experiences in the Navy. 

 

9. What made you decide to write about multiple American soldiers instead of focusing on one deserter?

 

This was for purely practical reasons. I set out writing Sweden with the intention of telling the full story of the operation to hide deserters in Japan and smuggle them out of the country on fishing boats, which lasted for roughly a year and involved a number of missions. I decided early on that one of the POV characters would be a young Japanese activist involved in this operation. He ended up being a composite character based on two real people: Fumihiko Anai and Fuminori Yamaguchi. But I soon realized that I couldn't tell the full story from this character's perspective alone. I ultimately concluded that I needed to have at least two deserter characters as well.

 

I came across an autobiography written by one of the deserters, and decided to use this as the basis for one of these characters. I also came across a Japanese translation of correspondence between another deserter and the activists that helped him, and I used the information in these letters as the basis for the other deserter character.

 

Having two deserter characters also enabled me to present a fuller and more realistic picture of the deserter experience by getting into the heads of two people with different backgrounds and motives. 

 

10. Sweden has quite a cast of characters, including Japanese hippies. What compelled you to include their unique culture in Sweden?

 

As with many of the events depicted in Sweden, the episode involving a group of deserters being sheltered on a hippie commune on the island of Suwanosejima is based on fact. I was keen to include it because these deserters were not the most cooperative of guests, and the tension between them and their hosts added another dimension to the novel. I also thought American readers in particular would be interested in the involvement of Gary Snyder. Snyder was closely associated with the group that founded the commune and a friend of Shunsuke Tsurumi, and served as an important link between the hippies and the organization helping the deserters. As well, the episode involving the hippies has been well documented in two books by the Japanese writer Fumihiko Anai, who as a 21-year-old was given the onerous task of accompanying the uncooperative deserters to the commune. Anai's accounts are incredibly detailed, even down to the contents of each meal they ate on the island, which made it relatively easy to research. But the culture of the Japanese hippies also ties in with one of the main themes of the novel, which is the exploration of alternatives to the traditional family and nation-state as organizational models for society.

 

11. Sweden equally features American characters—the deserters—and Japanese characters—the activists. Why did you choose to tell the story from both perspectives?

 

Given that what I was really interested in telling was the story of the Japanese anti-war activists who helped the deserters, the thought of not including a Japanese POV character never occurred to me. But in the back of my mind was the fear that without American characters the novel would not appeal to American readers. In the end, I realized that the story was so complex that I needed to tell it from multiple perspectives to do it justice. 

 

12. How do you illustrate the cultural differences between the Americans and the Japanese? How did this affect the interactions between characters?

 

There's a lot of eating and drinking in Sweden, too much according to one beta reader, who advised me to cut out or shorten the descriptions of meals. Another questioned the amount of coffee that was being drunk. Surely in Japan people would drink tea? But in fact, with the exception of the wartime years when coffee was all but unavailable, Japan has had a vibrant coffee-drinking culture ever since the country opened up to the West in the mid 19th century. By the 1930s there were more than 30,000 coffee shops across the country. But coffee drinking really took off in the 1960s when canned coffee was developed.

 

The descriptions of food are partly homage to Haruki Murakami's novels (as is the main Japanese character, who works at a record store and frequents jazz coffee shops). But they also serve to highlight how foreign Japanese culture must have seemed to the deserters, most of whom had never left the U.S. before joining the military. In one part of the novel, this unfamiliar diet, and in particular the lack of meat, sparks a confrontation between a group of three deserters and their Japanese hosts that has disastrous consequences for another character later on.

 

In contrast, another deserter who initially balks at eating Japanese rice balls wrapped in seaweed comes to embrace not only Japanese food but Japanese culture as a whole, and expresses sadness when the time comes for him to leave the country. 

 

At the same time, some of the Japanese characters grow weary at the unwillingness of their American guests to follow basic Japanese etiquette, such as washing before soaking in the bath. This weariness leads to mistrust, again with negative consequences.

 

But I was eager not to overemphasize this clash of cultures. Sweden is above all a story of people from different backgrounds overcoming their differences and working together for a common cause. 

 

13. Jazz music has a recurring role in Sweden. What function does it serve to move the characters and plot forward? 

 

I use jazz music not so much to move the characters and plot forward, but as a device for bringing characters from different backgrounds together and as a metaphor for the possibility of people working together despite their differences. Though jazz originated in America, and more specifically in the African-American community, it has grown into a truly global music genre, and as such has crossed cultural boundaries. In a sense it's an international language, spoken (albeit with slightly different accents) in America, Africa, Europe, and Asia. 

 

14. Why did you choose to insert music, especially jazz music, throughout Sweden? Why music at all, or a different genre?

 

Partly this is because I love jazz music. The author Meg Wolitzer said in a recent interview, "People say, write what you know, but it's really write about what obsesses you." Two of my obsessions are jazz and walking, and both of them found there way into Sweden. Of course, as mentioned above, both of them also serve a purpose. But I also wanted to make people aware of the history and popularity of jazz in Japan. In addition, one of the actual people on whom the main Japanese character in the novel is based, Fuminori Yamaguchi, really did play the trumpet, so there is a factual basis for this character's interest in music.  

 

15. You included the Japanese student protests in 1968 in Sweden. What made you decide to include this event? How do you feel the protests are relevant to the rest of the story?

 

Again, I wanted to make people aware of this important episode in Japanese history. Unfortunately, the Japanese student protests and campus occupations tend to be overlooked in studies of the global events of 1968. For example, they barely rate a mention in Mark Kurlansky's 1968: The Year That Rocked the World.

 

But the student protests, and the campus occupations in particular, also tie in with the novel's theme of the exploration and pursuit of non-authoritarian alternatives to the nuclear family and the nation-state. Many of the students involved in the occupations wanted not only to improve conditions for students and change the way the universities were run, but to change society as a whole. Their vision was utopian, and in this sense they had a lot in common with the hippies on Suwanosejima and the residents of the communal farm in Nishikiyama.

 

16. The deserters, particularly the “Intrepid Four,” (*1) have been both hailed as heroes, and denounced as traitors. Do you admire the deserters for their bravery or feel they abandoned their fellow countrymen?

 

"Heroes" is perhaps too strong a word, but as a pacifist, I definitely admire the Intrepid Four and the other deserters who took a stand against war at great personal cost. With one or two exceptions, I do not think I portray the deserter characters in Sweden as heroes. Rather, I made an effort to portray them as individuals, some weak, some strong, who for a variety of reasons including principles and self-preservation made the difficult and life-changing decision to desert. But I definitely do not see them as traitors. I have a negative view of patriotism and nationalism, which are based on the ridiculous notion that one's own country is somehow better than others simply because one happened to have been born there. 

 

17. How do you think the circumstances of the Vietnam War allowed for a different outcome for these deserters? In World War I and II there was little sympathy for deserters and some were sentenced to death. What was different about the Vietnam War?

 

I think the main difference between the Vietnam War and those earlier wars is that the Vietnam War was extremely unpopular and seen by many Americans as unjust. This undoubtedly affected how the military and government authorities dealt with draft evaders and to a lesser extent deserters. Also, society had changed, as evidenced by the events of 1968. Young people were less willing then their parents' generation to blindly obey authority, in fact many of them openly questioned it. That said, there was little sympathy for deserters in America during the Vietnam War. And even today there is still great stigma attached to desertion. This was brought home to me when I asked some ex-military personnel to share their experiences of serving in Japan, and was rebuffed when I told them I was writing about deserters.    

 

18. Craig Anderson, one of the real life “Intrepid Four,” recently returned to Japan for the first time since deserting in 1968 to speak about his experiences and concerns about the “remilitarization” of Japan. How relevant are the events, emotions, and politics of 1968 to modern day society, particularly in Japan?

 

I'm happy to report that the anti-war sentiment described in the novel is still very strong in Japan. Those on the right, including prime minister Abe, who are seeking to revise the constitution and remilitarize Japan face an uphill battle. Indeed, as I write this, concerned citizens are staging large-scale protests outside the Japanese parliament calling for Abe to resign. These protests were sparked by scandals unrelated to the above issues, but I have no doubt that Abe's eagerness to revise the constitution is also a factor in the effort to unseat him.

 

Until recently, it was the older generation, including those who had experienced the devastation of World War II as well as veterans of the protest movement of the 1960s, who were most vociferous in their opposition to war in Japan. But large numbers of young people are attending these latest protests, and the emergence of groups like SEALDs (Students Emergency Action for Liberal Democracy), which in 2015 and 16 mobilized opposition to a series of security bills that would have allowed the Japanese Self-Defense Force to be deployed overseas, also suggests that the younger generation is ready to take up the mantle of opposition to remilitarization and war from their forebears. 

 

19. How do you think the Vietnam War’s effect on popular culture differed from previous wars?

 

I'm not really sure. But I know there were many popular songs released in the U.S. during the Vietnam War that were explicitly anti-war (such as Creedence Clearwater Revival's "Fortunate Son," one of whose lines was the inspiration for a possible title for the novel, No Fortunate Sons), which is something that probably would not have been tolerated during previous wars. 

 

20. Would you characterize Sweden as a “war novel”? Why or why not?

 

An argument could be made for characterizing Sweden as a war novel. It definitely deals with war and addresses important issues surrounding war. But in terms of a genre, I would not feel comfortable with it being categorized as a war novel. Genres are largely about readers' expectations, and anyone buying Swedenexpecting it to be filled with battlefield action will be disappointed. Most of the story takes place in Japan, away from the theater of war. There are one or two battle scenes, but they are told in flashback and only included to explain the actions or motivations of the characters involved.

 

21. Is Sweden anti-war? Why or why not?

 

Yes. The view of war depicted in it is entirely negative, reflecting my own position. Nothing good comes from war.

 

22. Why did you decide to end Sweden right at the point of the deserters escaping to Sweden? Why not also take the reader to Stockholm?

 

To me, the essence of the novel was always the relationship between the deserters and their Japanese handlers, so it seemed logical to end the novel at the point where that relationship ended. I originally included an epilogue set in New York some years later to tie up some loose ends in the narrative. Later, my publisher pointed out that some of those loose ends were still untied, so I added a second epilogue set in Stockholm.

 

What happened to the deserters once they reached Sweden is a fascinating story in itself, and one that has been related in great detail in Matthew Sweet's recently published non-fiction work Operation Chaos: The Vietnam Deserters Who Fought the CIA, the Brainwashers, and Themselves.   

 

23. Tell us about your writing regimen for Sweden. When and where did you write? How long did it take you to complete the novel? Did you listen to music while you wrote, like jazz? 

 

As someone whose day job (translating) involves working from home, I'm lucky enough to have a dedicated work/writing space. I wrote the book mainly at home in Christchurch during whatever time I could spare from my day job. 

 

But not long after I began writing Sweden, disaster struck. Literally. On February 22, 2011, a magnitude 6.3 earthquake hit Christchurch and the surrounding area, killing 185 people and destroying or damaging many houses and other buildings. This impacted the writing of the novel in several ways. My home was badly damaged, and writing there was no longer the pleasurable experience that it was before the earthquake. As well, a general malaise descended over the city as a whole as the magnitude of the task ahead to rebuild Christchurch became clear. (Today, more than seven years after the quake, many people are still living in damaged houses and much of the central city still resembles a construction site.) This and the pressure of trying to settle our insurance claim had a detrimental affect on my mental health. During this period, I would welcome any opportunity to travel because it meant I could write in the peace and comfort of hotel rooms.

 

In early 2013, a friend in Japan generously offered me the use of her apartment in Nagoya for a month to complete the third draft of the novel. To be able to escape Christchurch and focus on nothing but writing for that month was an incredibly satisfying experience. The routine I followed while in Nagoya, of writing for an extended period in the morning between breakfast and lunch, going for a long walk in the early afternoon, then writing again before dinner, would be the routine I would follow if I did not have to do another job to support myself.

 

As to how long it took to write Sweden, I began writing it in September 2010, and finished it in late 2013. Later, after The Mantle expressed an interest in publishing it, I rewrote several chapters and added a second epilogue at the publisher's request.

 

I prefer to write in silence, no music. 

 

24. Sweden is your first novel -- how’s it feel to release your first book?

 

I'm excited but anxious.

 

25. What are your next projects?

 

I have two more novels in the works. The first, which is nearly finished, tells the story of a university lecturer whose life has been thrown into turmoil by the 2011 Christchurch Earthquake. Following the death of her estranged father, a famous New Zealand playwright, she comes across evidence suggesting he was involved in a crime while serving with the New Zealand Army during the military occupation of Japan, so she goes to Japan to investigate. The second, which is still at an early stage, is a thriller set on the island of Malta.

 

1. In 1967, four Navy seamen absconded from The Intrepid aircraft carrier when it docked in Japan. Aided by Japanese anti-war activists, the self-proclaimed “patriotic deserters” stowed away aboard a Russian passenger ship, which took them to Siberia. During their six-week stint in Russia the foursome were both lauded as “heroes” and despised as “cowards.” Eventually the four men ended up in Sweden.


Sunday, 16 April 2017

Ten years old today!

Dear blog

Happy birthday! I can't believe you're ten years old already. I know I've been neglecting you a bit of late. But let's be honest. You're a bit passé. A bit behind the times. A bit old-fogeyish. I've been hanging out with some new, hipper friends. Perhaps you've heard of them? Their names are Facebook and Twitter.

But don't worry. I promise I won't abandon you completely. After all, you're my firstborn, and as such you'll always have special place in my heart. You brought me out of my shell, gave me the confidence to share my views not only on walking, but on other topics such as music, art, books, cones, philosophy and munted body parts.

And through you I've gotten to meet lots of interesting people. Sure, some of them are a bit ill-mannered. They ask me for advice and when I give it to them they disappear and I never hear from them again. Not even a thank you. But most of them are good people. Some have even become friends. I like to think that walking brings out the best in us.

So once again, happy birthday, blog, and thanks for everything.

Walking Fool

Sunday, 30 October 2016

Goals

A couple of months ago, feeling especially motivated after reading a book on Neuro-Linguistic Programming, I made a list of my dreams/aims for the next few years. Included in this list under such headings as "Health & Fitness," "Work" and "Writing" are such goals as running the City-to-Surf (an annual 14 km run held here in Christchurch), reducing my cholesterole (I guess those two are kind of related), working more while making sure I keep regular hours and take days off, getting my first novel published, and attending the Melbourne Jazz Festival.

Naturally, one of the headings is "Walking." Under it I wrote three goals: walk the Oshu Kaido, walk Route 16 (the 241 km beltway around Tokyo), and walk the length of Japan (aka The Big One). According to the book, it's important that you not only write down your goals and refer to them regularly, but also that you set dates by which you intend to achieve them. And so next to "Walk the Oshu Kaido" I wrote "May 2017." A few days later I booked my flights to Japan.

All of this is by way of an announcement that in May next year I will be walking the Oshu Kaido, the fifth of the go-kaido, or five old highways of Japan (labelled A on the by-now-familiar map below). Walking all five of these highways has been a kind of unconscious goal of mine for a while now. I don't remember when I came up with the idea exactly, but it was probably after I walked the Nakasendo and was thinking of what to do next.

At just 90 km, the Oshu Kaido is the shortest of the go-kaido. I plan to walk it over three days. As usually, I'll be posting updates on my training up until I leave and reporting on the walk after I get back. Otanoshimi ni!


Saturday, 27 August 2011

Jazz musician plays burning piano

Sunday, 30 January 2011

Welcome to Australia

The Tomasz Stanko concert was on the Friday night, so I'd originally planned to stay in Sydney on Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights, but Mrs Fool, ever sentient of the opportunity to save a few dollars, found that the hotel tariffs were cheaper on weekdays than Saturdays, so we decided to fly into Sydney on the Wednesday. This was Australia Day, but we saw no reason why this should affect us, especially as we wouldn't be arriving till the evening.

In fact there were advantages to arriving on a public holiday. For a start, the streets were relatively free of traffic, making the taxi journey from the airport to our hotel a swift one. We checked in and went out for a walk, intending to buy some food at a supermarket or convenience store on the way back to eat in our room. It had been a scorcher of a day (the hottest Australia Day in decades, apparently), and the temperature was till in the 30s. Along the way we passed a cheap pasta and pizza place with outside seating facing the street and decided to try it out. The pizza and Greek salad were surprisingly good.

The restaurant was near Darling Harbour, and as we were eating we watched people walking by on their way to view the fireworks display later that evening. A surprising number had Australian flags draped over their shoulders, wore Australian flag T-shirts, or had Australian flags painted on their faces or bodies. I said to Mrs Fool I thought there was something childish about such displays of nationalism. In truth, I find them rather disquieting. Mrs Fool agreed with me, mainly because Haruki Murakami had expressed similar sentiments in a book she had just read (written after Murakami visited Australia during the Sydney Olympics). Mrs Fool then ventured an opinion of her own, expressing surprise at the number of Asian people with Australian flags painted on the faces. I countered by saying that nationalism was about nationality, not about ethnicity, but deep down I knew she had a point. One only needs to think back to the ugly scenes in Manly on Australia Day in 2009, when a mob of up to 100 drunken youths verbally and physically attacked non-white Australians, to realize how easily the celebration of national identity can become a celebration of racial or ethnic pride, something exclusionary as opposed to something inclusionary. On the television news that night, much was made of the fact that arrests in 2011 were down 20% on the previous Australia Day, with only 180 boozy revellers nabbed by police in the entire state of New South Wales.

The following day we shopped (can you call it that even if you don't buy anything?) and in the evening caught the bus to Leichhardt, where we'd booked a table at Elio's, an Italian restaurant we went to several years ago and liked. The meal was OK (and I learnt what a spatchcock is), but negotiating Sydney's bus system during the evening rush hour to get there took some of the gloss off the evening. On the way back, the bus driver (a Sikh) had to swerve and brake to avoid ploughing into a car door, whose owner had chosen the moment the bus driver was pulling out from a bus stop to open it. This was dramatic enough, but the interaction that followed was even more startling. The bus driver, who had brought his vehicle to a stop, opened his door and shouted something at the female driver of the car. (She was plainly at fault; not only was she parked in a bus lane, but she hadn't looked behind her before opening her car door.) She responded by striding over and yelling at the top of her voice, "Don't drive so bloody fast. This is Australia." The subtext was obvious.

The next day we spent the morning looking around the Museum of Contemporary Art and the early afternoon exploring The Rocks. For dinner we went to Medusa, a lovely Greek restaurant not far from Darling Harbour. We had the most delicious entrée of grilled octopus. As we tucked into the tentacled treats, we mused on how the Japanese and the Greeks both share a passion for munching on these multi-limbed molluscs. For a main I had the vegetarian Moussaka, which was so satisfying I had no room for any baklava, a pity seeing as it's possibly my favourite sweet thing on the face of the earth.

And then it was off to see the Tomaz Stanko Quintet at the City Recital Hall. Once again, Stanko delivered. Mrs Fool said it was the best jazz concert she had ever been to. For me the concert didn't quite live up to the experience of seeing Stanko's quartet in 2009, but I put that down to the fact that this time my expectations were so high. It was interesting to see him playing with a completely different line-up. I tend to prefer purely acoustic jazz over anything with amplified instruments, but I found it difficult not to appreciate the skill and sensitivity of the young (compared to the 68-year-old Stanko) electric guitarist and electric bassist. Occasionally the quintet produced a Bitches Brew-like barrage of noise, but for the most part the music was restrained and melodic with just a touch of melancholy. Just the way I like it.

Tuesday, 25 January 2011

Buzzing

The blogosphere is abuzz with talk of Sacha Baron Cohen playing Saddam Hussein in a movie adaptation of a novel penned by the late Iraqi dictator, but I'm still reeling from the news, first revealed to me in this article on the Guardian website about the current obsession with fact-based movies and novels (Is the concentration on reality stopping writers using the imagination for storytelling?), that Baron Cohen is playing Freddie Mercury in a biopic of the Queen front man. Due out in 2012 apparently.

Speaking of buzzing, I'm off to Sydney tomorrow to see the Tomasz Stanko Quintet. Hoping the concert's as good as the one put on by Stanko's quartet in Wellington a couple of years ago. Back on Saturday.

Friday, 9 April 2010

Jasmine

The more I hear about Keith Jarrett's soon-to-be-released new album Jasmine, a collaboration with bassist Charlie Haden, the more I look forward to it. From the liner notes (you can read the full text as well as the track listings here at Amazon):
An ecstatic moment in music is worth the lifetime of mastery that goes into it, because it can be shared.

Monday, 5 April 2010

Nothing in life is that funny


I always hesitate to call myself a jazz fan. Yes, these days I listen almost exclusively to jazz, but my tastes are quite limited (I prefer acoustic, melodic, melancholic jazz, and above all jazz that moves me) and there's a lot of jazz I don't particularly like. One thing I have a real aversion to is jazz vocals. So, for example, in deciding which jazz club to visit during my recent trip to Tokyo, the first thing I did when going through the schedules on the club websites was disregard all the dates with vocalists.

As with most rules, there are a couple of exceptions. I've always quite liked Tony Bennett. Which is lucky, because a couple of Christmases ago my brother, knowing that I was a Bill Evans fan, gave me The Legendary Sessions, a CD of duets by Evans and Tony Bennett. The other exception is trumpeter and singer Chet Baker.

Until recently I'd resisted listening to Chet Baker, not only because he sings, but also because I was put off by his image as the pin-up boy of West Coast cool jazz, which caused me to dismiss him as a lightweight. According to Wikipedia, between 1966 and 1974 Baker did record music that could be classified as early "smooth jazz," but from what I've heard of his recordings from the 1950s before his heroin addiction got the better of him and in the 70s and 80s when he cleaned himself up enough to make a comeback, he was anything but a lightweight. His music certainly has many of the qualities I look for in jazz.

Baker's abilities have always been the subject of controversy. He could barely read music, and he was no great technician, sticking to the trumpet's middle range and employing little or no vibrato. His singing, described as "an acquired taste" and having "an innocence and a sexual ambivalence that is vaguely unsettling," helped him acquire a mainstream audience beyond jazz, but it also attracted scorn from jazz purists, who were incensed when he won popularity polls in jazz magazines ahead of such distinguished contemporaries as Dizzy Gillespie and Miles Davis.

In the 1950s, his youthful good looks saw him courted by Hollywood (he appeared in the 1955 film Hell's Horizon), and for a time he lived the life of a movie star, his popularity among women, contempt for rules, and love of fast cars earning him a reputation as the James Dean of jazz. But he turned down an offer of a Hollywood studio contract so that he could continue to tour as a musician.

Baker's drug habit (he became addicted to heroin in the 1950s) began to interfere with his career in the 1960s. He fled to Europe to escape a drugs charge in the U.S., only to be jailed in Italy and expelled from England and Germany for drug-related offences. He returned to the U.S., but was forced to switch from trumpet to flugelhorn after losing several teeth in the mid-1960s. He left for Europe again in 1975, living out of a suitcase for the rest of his life. By this time he was playing the trumpet again, his sound "frail, airy, almost ethereal." Years of heroin use had taken its toll, not only on his playing but also on his looks. According to the liner notes to Chet Baker: The Collection (a compilation of Baker's mid-1950s recordings for the Pacific Jazz label):
By the time of his death in 1988 his face told his story. Much photographed, the boyish good looks of the 1950s Pacific Jazz album covers had disappeared with the ravages of a junkie lifestyle, his lined face displaying the all too tangible evidence of addiction. "They're laugh lines," he once quipped to fellow trumpeter and arch-humorist Jack Sheldon. "Nothing in life is that funny" came the response.
And while I'm quoting liner notes, here are some more, this time from Broken Wing, one of the many albums Baker recorded in Europe in the 1970s and 80s as he was struggling to resurrect his career:
After praising him to the skies - abusively, in his estimation - when he was the West Coast trumpeter-playboy, the men of America's "show-business" had looked the other way when, unrecognisable, with the craggy face of an old Indian, Chet was trying to emerge from what might possibly have been the nearest thing to hell. "There are no second acts in American lives," wrote F. Scott Fitzgerald.

Thursday, 19 November 2009

Three telegrams

Charlie Parker's telegrams to Chan Parker on hearing of the death of their two-year-old daughter Pree in March 1954.
4.11 AM
MY DARLING MY DAUGHTER'S DEATH SURPRISED ME MORE THAN IT DID YOU DON'T FULFILL FUNERAL PROCEEDINGS UNTIL I GET THERE I SHALL BE THE FIRST ONE TO WALK INTO OUR CHAPEL FORGIVE ME FOR NOT BEING THERE WITH YOU WHILE YOU WERE AT THE HOSPITAL YOURS MOST SINCERELY YOUR HUSBAND
CHARLIE PARKER

4.13 AM
MY DARLING FOR GOD'S SAKE HOLD ON TO YOURSELF
CHAS PARKER

4.15 AM
CHAN, HELP
CHARLIE PARKER

Saturday, 2 May 2009

That's more like it

Bento.com is a great website if you're after information about restaurants in Tokyo. I usually check it out whenever I'm heading to a part of the city I'm not familiar with to see if there are any restaurants I might enjoy.

Recently they posted a special article on jazz cafes, which made for interesting reading in light of my own recent series of posts on the topic. But the weird thing is that right after I'd checked the full list of jazz bars and cafes at bento.com, I went to bed and picked up the novel I happened to be in the middle of (The Last Assassin by Barry Eisler), and the first thing I came across was a detailed description of one of the jazz bars I'd just been reading about, Volontaire.

The very next day, I stumbled upon this profile of Eisler at Japan Today. As well as being an ex-CIA operative, it seems Eisler loves listening to jazz, has a black belt in a martial art, and spends a lot of time at hostess bars (in the name of research, of course). So that's at least two things we have in common!

Bonus bento.com link: cat cafes in Tokyo

Distance walked today: 26.6km
Total distance walked since Tokaido training began: 289.6km
Days left until departure: 15

Monday, 23 March 2009

Shinjuku's jazz coffee shops (cont.)

Most coffee shops close at 11 p.m. but the Village Gate stays open until 4 a.m., with coffee costing 200 yen after midnight. More informal than some of the others, with both an upstairs and downstairs, the Village Gate actually shelters some talkers as well as listeners and denotes a trend to take jazz without the same kind of reverence that exists in some of the earlier places. There's also a small food menu: roast beef sandwich, beef curry, toast or onigiri (a rice dish), each for 200 yen.
Village Gate has pretty chicks in polo sweaters, guys with their feet up, and others sprawled around. Also has big photomurals, including one of Jack Kennedy, in shorts and open knecked shirt sitting by an admiring Jackie beside the sea.
From Japan and Hong Kong on Five Dollars a Day (1965-66 Edition)

Distance walked today: 0km
Total distance walked since Tokaido training began: 103.2km
Days left until departure: 55

Sunday, 22 March 2009

Shinjuku's jazz coffee shops (cont.)

Young jazz fans take jazz very seriously in Shinjuku, and nowhere will you find more serious listeners than in the Dig Coffee Shop, its burlap-covered walls inscribed with penciled messages from jazz stars who have dropped in over the years. Magazine pictures line the walls of the stairway up to Dig, and inside the happy fans sit enraptured, mostly not even conversing, to the perpetual, driving beat of the heavy guns of jazz. "Which do you prefer, hot jazz or cool jazz?" a young Japanese college student asked me on one of my visits. Mostly in here, it's of the hot variety. To find Dig, walk along streetcar avenue until you reach the alleyway directly across the street from the gold beer glass sign. It's halfway up the alley on the left. About average coffee and drink prices - 100-250 yen.
From Japan and Hong Kong on Five Dollars a Day (1965-66 Edition)

Distance walked today: 10.1km
Total distance walked since Tokaido training began: 103.2km
Days left until departure: 56

Friday, 20 March 2009

Shinjuku's jazz coffee shops

Among the highlights of Shinjuku are its jazz coffee shops (jazzu kissa); and the fact that their jazz isn't live needn't worry you a bit. You'll never have heard recorded jazz like this before....

The biggest hi-fi jazz coffee shop in Shinjuku is the Mokuba, and it was while sitting there, eyeing the lovely girls, studying the bizarrely-curved ceiling, and listening to the over-loud jazz hammering in my ears, that I have had some of my profounder thoughts on jazz. Isn't jazz a reproduction in microcosm of an ideal society? A world in which all participants agree to stay within a minimal framework of rules, but allow unlimited personal variations within that framework? The Mokuba has very current jazz records, the latest acquisitions being listed on the wall with "Air Mail" written on them to denote recent arrival.
From Japan and Hong Kong on Five Dollars a Day (1965-66 Edition)

Thursday, 19 March 2009

Walkin' the Tokaido

Whenever I'm in Tokyo, I make a point of checking out one or two jazz clubs. As I've intimated previously, my hometown of Christchurch is a bit of a jazz backwater. Tokyo, on the other hand, is a jazz Mecca. It must have one of the highest concentrations of jazz venues (clubs, bars, coffee shops, etc.) of any city in the world. And this interest in jazz isn’t just confined to the older generation. One of the most successful Japanese movies in recent years is Swing Girls, which is about a group of high school girls who form a big band. It even sparked a bit of a big band boom, the effects of which are still visible in the form of a number of venues in Tokyo and elsewhere in Japan specializing in this form of jazz.

Not only does Japan have a thriving local jazz community, but it also attracts many great jazz artists from overseas. These artists love to play in Japan, and it's not just the prospect of earning good money that appeals to them. Although things have changed somewhat since the heady days of the sixties when Art Blakey, the first big foreign jazz artist to visit Japan, received the kind of reception usually reserved for rock stars in other countries, such artists still appreciate the respect with which they're treated in Japan. Keith Jarrett, who usually tours Japan at least once a year either for solo concerts or with his trio, is just one of the many overseas jazz artists who've expressed admiration for Japanese jazz audiences.

The history of jazz in Japan is something I haven’t really looked into in any detail. Several books have been written in English on the subject, and I intend reading a couple of them as soon as the New Zealand dollar recovers so that I can order them from Amazon without it costing me an arm and a leg.

This time I'll only have a couple of nights in Tokyo at the end of my walk, so I may not have the time or energy to see any live shows there. However, I've been doing some research into venues in some of the places I'll be stopping at along the Tokaido, and some of them look quite promising. I've found a couple of places in the cities where I have rest days scheduled (Nagoya and Shizuoka), for example. But I'm also looking forward to sampling what some of the smaller centres have to offer.

Distance walked today: 3km
Total distance walked since Tokaido training began: 88.9km
Days left until departure: 59

Friday, 20 February 2009

In the city

Yesterday morning I walked to the hospital to have my nose looked at by a surgeon. She was checking to see how much skin she needed to remove and where to find replacement skin. She wore this fancy headlamp that made a soft whirring sound when she turned it on, but when she went to do the measuring she pulled out an old-fashioned tape measure. I guess she knows what she's doing.

Anyway, she said I'd be having the surgery (which will be under local anesthetic and last an hour or so) on March 16 or 23. That's after the Wellington Jazz Festival, but well before I leave for Japan, so I'm pretty happy with that.

It was after midday by the time I was finished at the hospital. I was hungry, but I decided I was in the mood to try the Olatunji Concert experiment. So I rigged up my iPod and headed into town.

It was interesting for a while. A highlight was when I came to an intersection and could hear the sound of traffic on the recording (which was done live in a converted gymnasium in Harlem) as well as that of the traffic passing in front of me. My mind was on lunch, though, and so instead of drifting and letting the music dictate where I'd walk, I followed a familiar route to a favourite eatery.

By the time I got there I was only half way through the first track, so I hit Pause and didn't resume listening until I'd finished eating. Again, I didn't drift, but instead headed straight for the nearest Ticketek outlet to buy a ticket to the Brad Mehldau Trio concert in Wellington on March 8. "Ogundi" ended just before I got there, so I hit Pause again. Once I'd bought my ticket I felt it was time to head home. Something told me The Olatunji Concert wasn't right for walking through suburban Christchurch, so I hit Stop and packed away my earphones.

I didn't actually get to listen to Jimmy Garrison's bass solo at the start of "My Favorite Things". There was no "ascension to the peak". The experiment wasn't a complete failure, though. I think I understood at least a part of what I think Wu Ming 1 was trying to say. Which is that The Olatunji Concert is urban music, recorded, and intended to be listened to, in the heart of the city. And that by 1967 jazz had come a long way from West Africa or New Orleans or wherever it came from.

A couple of days earlier, near the beginning of my first listening of The Olatunji Concert (as "a mere background" as also recommended by Wu Ming 1), I suddenly felt the urge to laugh. I felt the same urge during my third or fourth listening of Ornette Coleman's The Shape of Jazz to Come. The urge wasn't to laugh at them, mind you, but to laugh with them.

Distance walked today: 5km
Total distance walked since Tokaido training began: 29.3km
Days left until departure: 86