Burkina, Radiohead, and Animal Collective

This is a post I forgot to post! It’s from a trip this past August.

Alex and I are back from an intense weekend of music in NYC. We left Maine Friday morning, catching the Concord bus from Portland and then Greyhound from Boston to NYC. We arrived at 5:30, caught dinner at Ollies (mainly Dim Sum, quite good particularly the turnip cakes) and then attended an outdoor concert at Lincoln Center. The performance was a collaboration, entitled “Summer of Love” between the dance company Armitage and Burkina Electric. I knew nothing about Armitage; however, Burkina Electric is an ensemble with a fascinating mission both in sound and idea. They try to find a way to bring together African music (from Burkina Faso) and the western sounds and beats of electronic music (hip hop, techno, etc.) But they are doing anything but simply adding beats to African music. The ensemble is made up four musicians and two dancers including Lukas Ligeti (son of Gyorgi). Ligeti writes about their work in an article for Leonardo Journal:

By using elements of Burkinabè traditional music, including rhythms not usually heard in contemporary urban music, plus rhythms of our own creation, we aim to enlarge the vocabulary of “grooves” in the club/dance landscape; the dancers help audiences interpret these unusual rhythmic patterns. Sonorities and structural models of West African music are transferred to electronics and reassembled and processed in various ways. Rather than superimposing drum programming on top of an African traditional structures, we compose music that aims to organically confront and combine Africa and Occident, and tradition and experiment, while maintaining the particular sensibilities of both worlds.

The result was one of the most exciting performances I’ve attended. The choreography was absolutely beautiful. It started with the lead singer of Burkina (who is incredible) leading the ensemble and dancers in an opening fanfare of bright and brilliant songs. Then Armitage joined and the performance continued through a series of dances accompanied by a wide expressive range of music–from happy to dissonant to soaring. The feeling in the audience was exhilarating. I wanted to get on stage and dance, play, sing–anything.

The next morning, after a stop a J&R Music for earplugs which promised to–and did–block out excessive sound yet let the music in, we boarded a ferry at Pier 11 (south of South Street Seaport) bound for Liberty State Park and the All Points West Festival. We were on our way to hear many bands but, most importantly, Radiohead. One of my students, Andrew, give me pointers on attending rock festivals (my youth was all classical and jazz), which came in quite handy, so we were prepared with plenty of sun-block, water, and–thank God–no lawn chairs! The set opened with Chromeo (a Montreal band) followed by Metric. Both were good, although after a while I lost concentration. Then came a band that I had wanted to hear: Animal Collective. They were by far the loudest of the day and they created a wall of slowly evolving sound. I loved it and would like to hear them again (with earplugs). Alex also noticed that Thom and Ed, from Radiohead, were listening–not surprising given Animal Collective’s love of sheer sound shapes.

After this, I made a mistake. Alex and I got great spots at the start and as we got closer to Radiohead’s 8:30 start time, the numbers of people around us were increasing by the minute. Our friends Meg and her Dad arrived and offered to hold our spots while we got dinner. We left. Thirty minutes later, we couldn’t get back to our spots. There was a web of people preventing anyone from advancing–I was also getting worried about having Alex (who is 12) amid a huge crowd of people. We pushed in as far as we could until we couldn’t go any further. The band playing was Kings of Leon (a good band) and while I could see the monitors, Alex couldn’t see anything. He had come all the way from Maine to see Radiohead–had a great view of the stage–then lost it!

There was one possibility that I shared with Alex: During the hours we were in our prime spots, I had a good view of the secruity staff as they fished out the fainting spectators over the course of the afternoon. I hoped they noticed us as well. I told Alex we needed to go to the back so he could at least see the monitors and I’d try and find one of the security people and plead. After about 10 minutes–even leaving the area was tough–we found ourselves at the back. I asked one of the security staff I recognized if there was any way to move Alex, not me, back to our friends in the front. I explained that he came all the way down from Maine had been held his spot since 1:00 in the afternoon and I made a mistake pulling him out. Sure enough, he spoke to his supervisor, pressed him a bit too, and we got the OK! I walked Alex down the center for the security area, threw him at Meg and her Dad, then returned to the back with the security guard. It worked!

The concert was wonderful. First, I was SO happy that Alex got to see Radiohead up close and felt good about having made it possible (as a Dad, few feelings are greater than coming through for you son in an tight spot). And while I would have certainly loved being up with him, the back turned out to be great place for different reasons. The monitors were huge so you saw everything and the location of Liberty Island is spectacular. To my left was the New York City skyline, to the back was lower New Jersey (not bad looking either!), and behind the stage you could see the Statue of Liberty. Musically, Radiohead was amazing. Unlike so many of the bands we heard, their songs show a diversity of styles and expression, from the great soaring melodies of The Bends to the avant-garde sound collages of Kid A. I also loved how the music has changed from the studio recordings, it keeps things alive and enaging. It also points the sophistication of Rock fans that get hyper about a particular band. Over time they develop a keen sense of aural analysis–the hear even subtle changes in the music from performance to performance. No different really than being bonkers about Beethoven and debating the interpretive differences between, say, Alfred Brendel and Richard Goode’s recordings.

We had a glorious late-night ferry ride back to Manhattan and found a cab home. The next morning we had a wonderful breakfast with my stepmother, Julie and my father’s favorite cafe, tazza, and headed back to Maine on the bus. It was a magical weekend but next time, for me at least, no more general admission tickets!

Museum at Atami

Our last day was perfect. We traveled to Atami, which is close to Tokyo where we needed to catch our plane. Atami reminded me a great deal of Scigliano, my grandfather’s birthplace in southern Italy. Both towns are built into mountains so the roads wind with nothing level. And, like Scigliano, the local drivers are quite confident in these winding roads where you can’t see who is coming around the corner in the opposite direction. While nothing will top the experience when my cousin drove in-and-around the Scigliano mountain roads at 100 mph, Attami was also unnerving since everyone in Japan drives on the left side. Consequently, you always have the sense that you’re on the wrong side of these windy, hilly, narrow, mountainous roads. Total fun.

In the morning we went to the Museum of Art in Atami which had a collection ranging from ancient to contemporary pieces. The entire building is sparse with an architectural that plays up open spaces, straight lines, and uses dark colors to produce warmth. It is quite different from the Italian galleries where every corner holds some piece for viewing. One of the most amazing uses of the local geography is how it plays into the mountain—there are a series of escalators starting at the low point of Atami and climbing up near the top of the mountain. The experience is powerful and the entrance has been used for installations:

 

To avoid getting overwhelmed in the museum—and with an art history of which I am hardly familiar—I focused on two contemporary artists. The first was Matsumoto Tetsuo (in the west, we’d reverse the names) who had paintings of various waterfalls from around the world including Niagara and Victoria Falls. I enjoyed the water as I do in Debussy’s La Mer although my experience of the Niagara Falls painting was a bit odd. Lily and the boys and I visited my brother in Rochester last year and I saw Niagara for the first time. It was awesome, for sure, however I was surprised how commercial the area was (and yes, we were on the superior Canadian side) so when I think about Niagara, the neon lights are part of my image. Matsumoto’s painting was free of commercial buildings and my reaction was to see the falls somehow more purely which, when you think it through, is an interesting simulacrum. In the few moments as I viewed the painting, I preferred the artwork to the actual falls—the copy to the real. Interesting.

Here are some examples:

My favorite work, by far however, was by an artist named Nagasana Akira and I spent most of my time with his paintings. The only way I can describe it is a primitive, bright colored, rough abstraction of images. The images below don’t do justice, but it should give you an idea of his work. The first, Blue Tiger (2007) is a good example (the intricacy of shapes in the face of the tiger are lost in the image):

This is Tiger Taking a Big Leap (2008 ) and the canvass is twice the size of the Blue Tiger which makes the leap bigger than it appears:

A more disturbing painting was entitled Noir and it was next to the Blue Tiger which highlighted the dark face (as opposed to the white in the face of the Blue Tiger):

Anyway, I didn’t think I’d enjoy the museum, but I did. I’m finding that focusing on one, small area always returns rewards. At the Uffizi in Italy, I was so tired of Roman busts and religious art from the Middle Ages, I ran through the centuries until I arrived at the early 17th century—Caravaggio forward—and stayed with those artists.

And so what else did we do on the last day? We found one of the best restaurants of course! We were near the Atami train station and our parties split between two restaurants. Luke and I went to an unagi place which only made unagi—small, medium, and large unagi. The restaurant was at the top of some very narrow stairs and was a hole in the wall. There were maybe 10 seats, four of which were at a counter and the chef was a rather large gentleman who made the unagi in the tiniest kitchen. I watched him as he gently cooked and marinated the unagi over the fire and had—by far—the best unagi of the trip. Luke was just as amazed and we took our time enjoying our last restaurant meal. It was the perfect goodbye to Japan.

Bathing in Yugawa

We’ve just arrived at the Ryokan (sort of like a spa) in Yugawa which is west of Tokyo, about 2.5 hours north of Kyoto. It is a fascinating place designed for relaxation, kind of like “taking the waters” in a 19^th century literary way. We have two beds and a tatami room which has a straw floor, paper sliding walls, and chairs without legs; in fact, as I’m typing this I’m sitting pretty much on the floor with my laptop on a table about a foot tall. Very cool.

The difficult part, particularly for two teenage boys, is that we have no bath or shower, just a sink and toilet. Instead, we will have a family hour at the “baths” from 7:00-7:30. Yes, as I told both my children, “we will all bathe simultaneously.” This did not sit particularly well. After conversing among themselves for a bit, they returned with a proposal that we each take a 7-minute, private bath—tough, but doable, and allowing a two minutes wrap-up and exit. We countered with a 14-minute parent bath–which they could join (no we won’t; are you nuts?) followed by a 14-minute period that the boys could divide whichever way they like. The option of not bathing was briefly discussed and discarded.

Post Dinner and Bath: Just when I think I’ve had all the amazing dinners, another comes along that is its own unique masterpiece. Visually, the meal was stunning—everything beautifully presented, filled with color both in the cutlery and the food itself. (Yesterday I heard that the Chinese were bringing Japanese Chefs over to help them develop food presentation.) Among the highlight was what I think was conch-shell sashimi; it was placed, in perfect white shell and the taste was mild and lacked the tough texture that some shellfish have. Each of us also had an iron plate and cover filled with the thinnest slices of beef I have ever seen, along with mushrooms, and greens. Underneath was a small fire which was set when we sat down. Over the first ten minutes of the meal the fire gently cooked the food and went out—by itself—at the exact time the food was done. We ate this with a sweet sauce that I’ve never had before. Along with several pieces of sashimi (sashimi seems to appear everywhere; I’m really going to miss it) we had an amazing eggplant dish with a fish sauce. We also had several pickled vegetables (so much better than anything you get in the States), squid, fruit, and miso soup. For dessert we had slices of the freshest grapefruit imaginable and several grapes which seemed like concords, but less tart.

As to bathing. There is a dressing room, a cleaning area, and then the hottest tub imaginable. You sit as you use a showerhead to clean making sure the water goes and area under where you’re sitting which is really, really hard to do if you’re an American. As to the bath-part, I’ve never liked hot-tubs or saunas, I just don’t get it. Still, I’m learning the feel of the place which is far from the generic comforts of a hotel and that’s the kind of travel I like best. 

 

Japanese Food and Temples

Unlike the United States, every swipe of a bar code reader is successful. I’ve bought at least twenty to thirty small items thus far and have yet to see one fail, much less fail repeatedly (which leads to the cashier having to type in the interminably long number). But that’s Japan. Everything always works. The one exception is the English language. They need a few good grammarians to spend a summer circulating throughout the country correcting menus, street signs, and the like. Not that it isn’t fun to come across “exercise and helth center here,” “when you ate our burger you get absorbed by it,” or “this coffee is dripped one by one person by one.”  I’m also touched that when English does appear on cans and bottles it often informs me of how my life will be enriched upon consumption, such as the ice coffee that promises me “a radiant life.” Oh, yes, I am drinking canned ice coffee—it’s not bad actually, better than Dunkin Donuts certainly. The key is to find the one with little-to-no sugar and not the kind which tastes like it has mixed in a small dairy farm.

We made some amazing trips to the sights of Kyoto. But first, some food updates:

We were taken out to a special club where we had our own chef who cooked everything right in front of us. Among the highlights were Kobe beef. I generally don’t like steak (I find it boring unless it’s acting as a base for some sauce); this, however, was different. The beef was cut into bite-size pieces and cooked rare with an amazing combination of flavors. We would take the piece of beef with our chopsticks and briefly soak it in a mixture of soy sauce, sesame seeds, and other unknown, but extraordinary flavors. The results was the finest red meat I’ve ever had. Sadly, this probably means I’ll like steak even less when I return to the states.

I wanted to have unagi (eel) and we ended up at a restaurant that actually fried it. It was very different from the amazing unagi I had at the Fish Market, but just as remarkable in a different way. We also ate at the Beer Garden on top of your hotel which didn’t have anything particularly fascinating except for a soft tofu which always reminds me of the texture of homemade mozzarella. Tofu is the gentlest of the Japanese cuisine—no matter how much you’ve eaten, there’s always room for tofu. It also seems to de-fragment your stomach, arranging everything you’ve eaten so it is organized calmly and neatly.

What does the opposite might be the fried octopus we had, though it was quite good. We also had countless kinds of mochi, pastries (western style, but usually with an eastern twist like mango and cream croissant), and plenty of green tea ice cream. This morning we had a Japanese breakfast that included okayu, a liquidy rice dish that I loved—kind of a Japanese Cream of Wheat. The one disappointing meal was where the restaurant, assuming our kids wouldn’t like the more unusual Japanese cuisine, gave them more “traditional” foods whenever a course was particularly exotic. My exotic-food seeking children were not pleased, but remained polite. Needless to say I shared all my ‘exotic’ foods with Alex who was sitting next to me.

As to temples, Kyoto is amazing. This one has multiple sections at the top of a mountain:

 

Here is a particularly beautiful, five-story pagoda, “Kofuku-ji”, not too far from the “Big Buddha”:

Here’s the Big Buddha:

And one of the soldiers on the side of the Buddha’s temple:

And one of many groups of deer that are living in the parks in-and-around the temples:

They are particularly friendly when you feed them. I was swamped by at least ten as I handed out deer-food crackers. One deer I kept missing actually poked my stomach with his snout which—after all the mochi, udon noodles (a very large noodle often eaten in a cold, refreshing soup), and ice cream I had had—almost created an unsightly incident. I held on, but the crackers went flying into the herd and were consumed before hitting the ground. They didn’t seem as cute after that.

 

Japanese Meals

We arrived in Kyoto yesterday. Before getting to the city, I have one photo to share. Luke took a picture of his bento lunch–the small Joseph Cornell boxes filled with small, delicious food items. Kids take them on field trips and they are the perfect travel food. The quality is, of course, excellent and the box makes for an easy, delightful, and way-cool eating experience:

Kyoto is very different from Tokyo which was largely destroyed during WWII and has been built as a modern city. Kyoto has 1800 temples and a blend of old and new buildings. The feel of the city is different as well, not as high tech, fast-paced, or commercial; in fact, I have yet to see a Starbucks. Strangely, the most popular western business seems to be 7-11’s which dot the city. There are also areas which still have the pre-automobile layout, a bit like Venice although easier to follow. But you can get a feel for ancient Japan at times which seems so far from the modern power of Tokyo.

Our hosts took us out for a multi-course Japanese meal at a special club for invited members. The grounds and the restaurant were set in traditional Japanese design and we had our own room. The meal took two hours and we went through nine courses. In addition to sushi, various soups, and sashimi, we also had several exotic Iron-chef like dishes including a jellied ball (with carrot fish inside) placed in a gentle peanut (or sesame) sauce. Throughout the meal we drank heavily including the smoothest Reishu (a cold sake) I have ever had–it almost didn’t taste alcoholic. The kids were very ambitious and tried everything. I’m glad they have a fearless attitude towards food–they’ll connect so much better to other cultures (people) and be able to enjoy life that much more as a result. Seriously, food is an art that expresses a way of thinking and living just like music. How we contextualize the very thing that sustains us says a great deal about who we are. I’ve also noticed how appreciative the Japanese (like the Italians and I’d imagine most people) are when they see you–and your kids!–enjoying their food. There are few better ways to say thanks and pay a complement. Apparently I’m particularly adventurous, I’ve been told that I am the rare caucasian that actually likes uni and natto. Uni is sea-urchin sushi and natto is, well, rotten beans possessing stringy consistency that makes the hot mozzarella strands that pull off your pizza quite uneventful.

Update: Lily says the 7-11 stores aren’t 7-11’s. They have a different name that looks like “7-11.”

Bullet Train, Coffee, and Okonomiyaki

I’m writing this in the Tokyo train station waiting to for the bullet train to Kyoto. We just spent the last hour at an amazing food court which was vast and filled with incredible food. There are actually five levels of stores and restaurants under the Tokyo train station. And, unlike most other station business, sell goods of excellent quality. The food court would be among the best in any city above ground. I ended up focusing on baked goods–melon breads, bean buns, etc–and a dumpling collection of pork, shrimp, and some other filling I don’t recognize but can’t wait to taste.

A word about coffee. Tokyo has amazing coffee. Like everything else, quality matters, even in the most lowly coffee shops. Actually, Japan discovered good coffee, via Europe, at least a decade before the US. The beans are fresh and the ice coffee is pre-brewed (not cooled with ice which waters down the taste).

I’m now on the bullet train and it is remarkably fast, yet quiet. Luke got a movie of it coming in the station with its futuristic, bullet-nose. Prior to boarding, however, three women dressed in pink uniforms entered the train and quickly dusted and cleaned everything up for us. There is also someone handing out packages of moist towels. Amazing.

More on food. Back in Tokyo we went to an Okonomiyaki restaurant where you sit around a grill and cook your food. The waiter brings a bowl filled with the ingredients in order of cooking: meat at the top, veggies underneath, and a dough-like substance that holds it all together. Luke took some great shots.

The restaurant was in a marketplace:

Which had a beautiful temple at the back. The smoke is incense which you inhale for good health:

I entered the temple and listened and watched a group of monks chanting. The sound was a low drone–very powerful and meditative.

Japanese Music

I’ve been checking out Japanese CD stores to find music for my electroacoustic class as well as get a sense of music in this country. Also, searching for CDs (or certain books) helps satisfy the hunter in me. Sadly, this is all that is left of my carnivorous ancestors ability to prowl the Serengeti spearing wildebeests, lions, bison, or whatever else one finds in that place and time. (Being a professor only compounds the sense of loss, on occasion I even find produce sections overwhelming.) Anyway, the music I am hunting is Japanese “noise” and “noise rock”. I have a playlist from a book entitled Noise/Music which has two chapters on Japanese music. The first record store was HMV which was organized much like it is in the west. The genres are standard (classical, rock, jazz) except there are huge sections of Japanese Pop–a style of music which sounds like you’d think. I brought my playlist to one of the help staff and she told me that everything I wanted was out-of-print. Alex did find a Radiohead CD, however, the Japanese version of Pablo Honey with bonus tracks; he was quite happy, particularly at the price.

We DID finally find the perfect store–sort of a Bull Moose of Tokyo which had three floors of music. With Lily’s help I was able to find a CD by Kenji Haino and another called Tokyo Flashback which had a collection of artists. My thoughts at this point is that I might arrange the class around the concepts of Noise, Music, Silence, Sound (or Sound Art). These discourses are increasingly meshed together and the Japanese have some amazing work in the field of Noise.

Fish Markets

We’re leaving for Kyoto today after an amazing week in Tokyo. Yesterday we went down to the Fish Market which handles 98 percent of the fish consumed in Japan and is the largest in the world. Stand after stand had all sorts of fish, eels, shellfish, and many I couldn’t recognize all being prepared for sale. And there is nothing touristy about this place; although there were a few of us milling around, most of the activity were the workers including small–very fast–tractors carrying huge quantities of fish and little concern for anyone standing in their way!

Here’s one portion of the warehouse (all photos courtesy of my son, Luke):

Getting down to the sushi:

One of hundreds of stands:

Fish, Eels, Shrimp, Oh My!

Behind the warehouse is the market of stands and restaurants. We finished our morning with an amazing sushi/sashimi breakfast. I have never tasted fish so fresh. We started with simple fish sashimi: salmon, tuna, yellow-tail then moved on to sushi including sea urchin, shrimp, and one of my favorites–eel. Here’s our chef:

I’m not sure if New York’s Southeast Seaport (with its high-end shops and museum-like feel) will ever be the same.

First Night in Japan

After a long–very long–plane ride we arrived in Japan and met Lily’s family. We’re all staying in a prime area of the Tokyo at a hotel for alumni of several important universities. The Japanese do many considerate things really well. Although we’re in one of the oldest buildings in the city, it has all the amenities. Most importantly, it isn’t touristy; in fact, most of our neighbors are older Japanese men. Things are very quiet. My sons, Alex and Luke, have their own room fairly far from ours which is great. They’re enjoying their independence and are learning things like when you leave, remember the key and the number of the room!

We’re still jet-lagged so we walked around a little bit and grabbed some food at the local market. It was 9 pm on a Tuesday night, but the streets were active with restaurants, stores, and people milling about.

Tomorrow we’re taking a tour and then walking around the city. I found several used CD shops which will hopefully have some Japanese noise and Electroacoustic artists.

Too tired to continue. It’s already tomorrow here. Sayonara.

Singing on the Streets of Italy

Playlist: Excerpts from Verdi operas and Beethoven Symphonies.In class yesterday I remembered an experience in Venice that I must not forget. After going to the Guggenheim, I started leading students back to the Ferrovia (train station–near our hotels) and, Venice-being-Venice, got lost in a residential section. I stood looking at a map when an elderly gentleman came by an offered his services. He had, I think, a Venetian dialect which meant I had more trouble understanding than usual. And he understood little English.I was able to tell him we were heading to Ferrovia and he told us to follow him. He clearly wasn’t heading that direction; however, seemed committed to making sure we found our way. As he was walking, he began singing a theme from the Beethoven Pastoral Symphony. I joined him. He smiled and we sang the passage together, becoming louder and more animated as the folk-melody opened into full-Beethovenian passion. We then moved to opera and sang sections of Otello, Rigoletto, and Nabucco–always highlighting dramatic moments with the point of our fingers, as if cuing the orchestra. There is something very Italian about these gestures, my Father does them, as did my Grandfather.I quickly realized this was a very special moment–and so did the students who suddenly went quiet and followed so closely they bumped into me whenever we stopped. We sang all the way to Ferrovia, clearly far away from his home, and when we arrived, parted with handshakes all around.I know there was a time in Italians sang in the streets. You don’t hear that so much anymore, at least in the areas I’ve been. This makes me particularly grateful for that experience and even more so that my students were able to be a part of it.