KODO & BLØF: FUSION IN AMSTERDAM

Preface: this post will be in three parts.

I am so grateful to have autonomy of my research: the Bristol Fellowship coordinator at Hamilton College, Ginny Dosch, has given me a tremendous degree of flexibility in regards to my itinerary. With my original fellowship proposal, I had no idea that I would want to venture to Amsterdam for a series of concerts. Fortunately, I was able to fit this side trip into my schedule.

From March 14th-16th, Kodo, the taiko drum group I worked with while in Japan, played three concerts in Amsterdam with a Dutch pop rock group, called Bløf. (I think Jerry Seinfeld said it best, “What is that O with the line through it? What letter is that? I don’t remember that letter in school.”)

The shows were not just merely Kodo as the opening act for Bløf; instead, the two groups collaborated and performed many songs together, fusing traditional Japanese drumming with modern Dutch rock music. Needless to say, this fusion created a tremendous visual and auditory experience.
To take a step back: ever since I first ventured to India in the fall of 2005, I have been amazed by the concept of fusion music. I was initially turned on to fusion music by the godfather of the genre itself, George Harrison. Harrison’s records, both with the Beatles and throughout this solo career, reflected a sincere interest in Indian music.

Fusion music is very difficult to create: above all, among the musicians, there must been a genuine interest and appreciation between the two schools of music. For example, George Harrison was so successful in making fusion music, as he studied the sitar as any other rising Indian student would; as in, he did not exploit his “rock star” status…

In purest sense, the purpose of drums is to communicate. With fusion music, cross-cultural communication is a given, as two different forms of music are mixed and mashed together. In the context of the Kodo- Bløf performances, it was apparent that a very special personal connection among the Japanese and Dutch musicians was forged through the music.

It was very much so evident that the members of Bløf had a sincere enthusiasm for Japanese taiko music. Not only did the music sound fantastic, but also it was clear that all the musicians were having a blast, as all the musicians were nothing but smiles. By the final night, during the big drum solo between Kodo and Bløf drummer (Norman Bonink), Norman was even wearing a traditional Japanese headband!

Within the parameters of research “spirituality in drumming and drum crafting,” it might be questionable as to what was the “spiritual” element to the Kodo- Bløf performances.

Spirituality has the connotation of the individual’s connection to the Divine; yet, in a certain sense, can “spirituality” also implicate a more personal connection between two humans? To clarify, there is something wholly “spiritual” about two people forming such a strong, personal connection, especially when that bond breaks down cultural barriers. Surely, “spirituality” is a rather ambiguous term and concept; but, after witnessing the Kodo- Bløf performances, I do affirm that a “spiritual” union can be formed between two people, vis-à-vis music.

The second part of this post will describe the concert itself…
















Shogo loads equipment after the show

PIPE DRUM

During my stay in Sevilla, I discovered a small drum shop, called Naranjo Music. The shop mostly sells Western-style drum kits and accessories; but there was a wide selection of African hand drums, as well.


Historically, all of Andalucia, formerly known as “Al-Andalus,” has had a profound connection to Northern Africa and the Islamic world, in general. Indeed, this is not the proper forum to discuss the broader cultural influences that Muslim dynasties had on Christian Spain from the Eighth Century to 1492; nonetheless, this history has, invariably, created ties between the Andalucian and North African music.

Although there was a good selection of African drums, the one drum that caught my eye was the most unconventional: it was a pair of tom-tom drums made from PVC water pipes. Like a timbale set (think Tito Puente), a pair of cowbells and six-inch splash cymbal are mounted above the two drums.
The pipe drum set certainly would be classified as a “found instrument,” as the materials used to create the drum were never intended to be used for that purpose. To give the drum an even more makeshift feel to it, the pipes were colored in with marker, not paint. Somewhat surprisingly, the sound of the drums is pretty solid.

While I have seen pipes transformed into drum shells before, there was something about this particular set that just seemed like such an “honest” effort by the craftsman. Rarely do innovation and practicality form such a straightforward marriage.

While this drum does not boast any aesthetical value, the ingenuity of the materials used to create the instrument is highly commendable. Surely, the drum does not define the drummer: the music coming out of the drum is all that matters.

Drums can be crafted for thousands and thousands of dollars, but at the same time, they can be crafted from household materials for next to nothing. It is rather incredible to analyze the spectrum of drum crafting: when I think how complex (and costly) the process of drum crafting at Asano Taiko in Japan was to the simple (and cheap) process of crafting the pipe drum, it is really neat to see such variation. But, it seems that sometimes simplicity just works best when crafting a drum.

DRUMMERS FROM SIERRA LEONE (IN SEVILLA)

After my departure from India, I arrived in Sevilla, Spain, to prepare itinerary for Morocco and to, well, just take it easy for a few days. Sevilla is in Andalucia, the most southern part of the country. Because of its proximity to Africa, there are many immigrants from Morocco and West Africa in Sevilla; which creates a very diverse music scene.

One evening, I stumbled upon a small music club, Reggae Vibes, and watched a percussion performance by a group from Sierra Leone. The group, called African Shrine, mostly played djembes – large wooden and calf-skin hand drums. The djembe jam lasted about an hour, and there was also a fire show. All in all, it was very entertaining and a rather unexpected evening!

Below are a bunch of pictures and videos from the performance. The lighting is pretty poor in the videos, but the sound came out well…Enjoy!

TABLA LESSONS IN CHENNAI

Hello all. I have received several messages in regards to my tabla instructor. If you are ever in Chennai and want to learn to play the tabla, definitely contact Chandran. He is a very friendly, patient, and talented teacher. His address is No. 54/21, DeMonte Street, Santhome, Mylapore, Chennai, 600 004, which is right near Marina Beach. The best way to contact Chandran would be via telephone: 98401 06214 or 99414 46214. Please give him my regards!

NEW LOOK & A HEADS UP...

So after I officially have passed my six-month "anniversary" of the Bristol Fellowship, I have decided to go for a new look for the website. Honestly, as you probably have already gathered, I know very little about web design - I just thought this template was a nice change. Of course, feedback and recommendations are always welcome.

On that note, I have noticed that this site has been receiving many "spam" comments. I try to delete these comments as soon as possible, but definitely do not click the links that are provided. Just thought I'd give you that heads up...

INDIA, IN SUM

A flurry of thoughts of my experience in India come to mind: in no way is this post a denouement, but rather it is an informal reaction to my time in India…

One of the most underrated aspects of traveling throughout India is that I have found so many awesome records that I would never find back in the States. Indeed, we live in an era of globalization; yet, sometimes I am overwhelmed with how much music I encounter here that I would never be exposed to back in New York City. On those terms, I have discovered a ton of fantastic Indian percussionists, including Palghat T.S. Mani Iyer and Guru Kaaraikkudi Mani – all of whom I was unaware of prior to my arrival in South India.

Furthermore, I have attended so many concerts of local artists – all professional musicians, yet not internationally promoted. There is something very special about seeing a performance and knowing that it is an isolated opportunity: I cannot go to Virgin Records in Union Square and buy the records of these drummers.


A carving on the door of a temple in Chennai.

Perhaps one of the more frustrating aspects of this fellowship is knowing that I will never be able to convey so many of my experiences to this website. I have seen some many things that are pertinent to my research, but I just haven’t been able to write about. For example, while in Goa, I saw several concerts of Western Shivaite converts – Westerners that converted to Hinduism, and worship Shiva by playing music (amongst other things…). Yet, I have been unable to figure out where this group fits into my research. Either way, there has not been a shortage of music-related experiences while in India. It seems that I constantly was surrounded by music: there is always some minor festival or parade precession just around the corner. Simply put, Indian culture is saturated with music, from the pop Bollywood hits to traditional religious songs to regional folk ballads.

I feel very grateful that I have been able to meet so many welcoming musicians here in India; I cannot imagine how my experience in India would have been if I had never met Chandran, my tabla teacher.


I have become very appreciative of the fact that I am conducting this research in the age of the internet: I could not imagine having to plan this fellowship without the aid of computers and instant communication. Furthermore, I think it is really neat that my research is produced in real time: because of this website, I am able to update all of you with my discoveries almost instantaneously – pending I have internet access, that is.

I am very curious to see how the Moroccan tabla compares to the Indian tabla: I would imagine that the crafting is almost identical, but I have learned that hypotheses prior to field research are a complete shot in the dark.



Swami Vivekanada Museum













Swami Vivekananda, the man who introduced Hinduism to the West














Marina Beach in Chennai











Church in Chennai

ASSORTED GOODNESS FROM GOA

More glimpses into my life...




Portuguese Catholic church in Anjuna













Mini drum shop with djembes and dholaks













Better than being a burger.

THE ART OF THE TABLA

A few months ago, I met a jazz drummer from Sydney, Australia named Jamie Cameron. I have heard some of Jamie’s records, and he truly is a fantastic drummer. During our conversation, Jamie told me that he had just come back from studying the janggoo drum in Korea. (The janggoo is actually a drum widely used in Japanese music; many historians believe that the Koreans introduced music to the Japanese, thus explaining why both cultures share an instrument).

Jamie told me how much he respected the Korean janggoo drum, because it has such a rich history. Then he said something that really struck me: he affirmed, “I think that we [Western drummers] have no idea how to play the drums.” Essentially, his theory is that the Korean janggoo drum has been played for centuries, and thus has been perfected. The Western drum kit, on the other hand, is a very new instrument, as it is not even one hundred years old. The first drum kits – a snare, tom toms, pedal-driven bass drum, high-hat and ride cymbal – came onto the music scene in the late 1920s/early 1930s.

When Jamie told me his theory – something that I think actually is not a theory, because I have no doubt it is the truth –, I told him that the Indian tabla upholds his hypothesis. The tabla is another drum that has been played for ages; there is a very specific way to learn the tabla, the teachings have been perfected. Most drummers will agree that the musicianship it takes to play a tabla or Korean janggoo drum is simply at another level to that of a Western drum kit. While the physical coordination of Western drums may be more challenging than any other percussion instrument, as Western drums require the command of hands and feet, the Indian tabla or Korean janggoo have a more much specific school of training.

In no way am I asserting that Indian percussionists are “better” than Western drummers; nothing in music should ever be compared, as music is not a competition. Nonetheless, due to the rich history of Indian drumming, it is fair to say that instruments like the tabla are far more evolved than the Western drum kit.

The tabla can produce a mellifluous range of sound because everything from the technique of the tuning to the mastery of method of playing has been tried and tested over centuries and centuries. As with any aspect of life, with further years of study, more is known and that knowledge can be applied to the practice.

Don’t get me wrong, when Jamie first told me his theory, I could not help but highlight the incredible skills of jazz drummers like Buddy Rich, Elvin Jones and David King. But what Jamie was saying, was that those drummers will just be the beginning – that in a few centuries, Western drummers will be doing unimaginable things on the drum kit.

CARNIVAL IN GOA

I had no idea that Carnival was celebrated in India. Although it was the Portuguese Catholics that introduced the holiday to India, today, Carnival is celebrated by Christians, Hindus and Muslims all throughout the state of Goa – and apparently, in Kerala, as well. To the best of my knowledge, India is the only country in Asia that celebrates Carnival.

I was able to see two cavalcades; one in the small beach town of Anjuna, and another in the larger town of Mapusa. The Anjuna celebration was so small that it seemed as if there were more spectators than participants. In Mapusa, on the other hand, the streets were packed with people, both watching and partaking in the festivities.

Like Carnival celebrations everywhere, it really was just a whacky, but wildly fun, gathering. The processions include many floats with dancers, musicians, and individuals dressed in elaborate costumes.

I was a little disappointed that there was not any live, acoustic drumming. To my surprise, there were actually several drummers playing electronic kits, while parading on the back of the floats. It almost seemed like it would be more complicated to use an electronic drum kit than an acoustic one in a parade. For whatever reason, the drummers opted for electronic kits: maybe this was a sign of modernity eclipsing certain drumming traditions. Regardless of that, the music still was an intricate and essential part of the celebration.

Of course, there was a certain “Indian” dynamic to the festival: maybe it was because the procession in Anjuna had a sign that read, “VIVE CARNIV_L 2008,” or because a float in Mapusa declared, “HAPPY CARNAVAL.” Either way, it was a pleasant surprise to see Carnival, the Indian way…

Pictures and videos below...














Mapusa























































Anjuna

ASSORTED PHOTOGRAPHS FROM PONDICHERRY

Pondicherry is the former French colony in India.


Gandhi statue.













Drum salesmen.














Busy street.












Research related.

ASHOK & WESTERN DRUMMING IN CHENNAI

Some of my contacts have come about in the most random fashion: while taking a taxi ride from Chennai to Pondicherry, as I was explaining why I was in India, my driver told me that one of his closest friends was a drummer. After spending a few days in Pondi, I returned on to Chennai, and met with a thirty-something year-old drummer named, Ashok.

Fortunately, Ashok lives in Royapettah, the same neighborhood I have been living in; so it was not too difficult finding his house. Initially, I was under the impression that Ashok was trained in Indian hand drums, like the tabla or dholak; but, it turned out that he actually studies Western drum kit. I had yet to meet an Indian musician that exclusively played Western style drums.

Ashok has been playing drums for many years; but asserts that it only has been “six” full years, as that is how long he has studied under his teacher, Gopal Sivamani, one of the most respected Indian drummers. Sivamani is a very accomplished recording artist, and, like many famous Indian musicians, is from Chennai. It was unclear how often Ashok plays with Sivamani; nonetheless, the way Ashok spoke of Sivamani, it was clear that Ashok greatly respected and admired his teacher.

The guru–shishya (teacher–student) relationship is an essential aspect of Indian culture. With any sort of musical apprenticeship, there is an inherent spiritual training, as well: like all great student-teacher relationships, much more is learned than the said subject. Perhaps this why Ashok was so curious as to whom my teacher was; because in India, a drum teacher is more than a drum teacher. For the record, my first drum teacher was John Cutrone; and while at Hamilton College, it was Jim Johns.

All of that aside, for a couple of hours Ashok and I jammed on his drum kit. Ashok actually had a really large kit: it was a standard five piece (snare, bass, two rack toms and a floor tom), plus a trio of marching toms above the snare, and two timbales above the floor tom. Considering the size of his apartment, his kit was absolutely massive.

Not surprisingly, as Ashok lives in a government housing complex, he needs to muffle the drums, so that the neighbors do not complain. To minimize the sound, Ashok wraps all of the drums and cymbals with dishtowels and other clothes. It is a rather clever system; although, it makes playing the drums much, much more difficult, as your playing speed is reduced dramatically, from the resistance of the cloth.


While it was extremely refreshing to get behind a drum kit, after several months without proper practice, my chops were rather rusty. Ashok sounded very good; his stick control was outstanding. In Western drumming, the two most common strokes are the single stroke (the drum makes one sound with one stroke/hit) and double stroke (two sounds with one stroke). Ashok has been practicing triple, quadruple, quintuple and sextuple strokes; all which sound really awesome.

One of the most frustrating aspects of this fellowship is that I am always surrounded by drums and percussion; yet, I have very few opportunities to play a drum kit. Further, as expected, my research predominantly focuses on hand percussion; which is why I seldom am exposed to full drum kits. My constant desire to air drum often leaves me looking rather hyperactive, as I always am in motion…

It has worked out that in each country where I have conducted research, I have had at least one opportunity to play a drum kit: in Fiji, I gave drum lessons at a church on Kadavu; in Japan, I jammed with students on roof of the University of Kyoto of Art & Design; and in India, I was able to play on a muffled kit with Ashok.

As much as I am enjoying my experiences right now, I cannot wait to get home, and play for hours while applying my new knowledge of international percussion to my drum kit.

ANOTHER HINDU WEDDING

Chandran, my tabla instructor, earns a bulk of his livelihood by performing “light” music. Although he is classically trained, Chandran thoroughly enjoys playing light music – which, essentially, is a nonreligious, pop music. Light music is most often performed at weddings and other social functions; the music itself consists mostly of covers of popular Bollywood (film) songs.

So, I accompanied Chandran to a Hindu wedding – my second in the past six months. Like my experience in Fiji, I was the only Western at the event. That being said, like so many other situations, I definitely felt welcomed. Actually, I attended the wedding celebration, not the service itself; but, the party is always the most important part, right?

It was really neat watching Chandran set up his tabla set and other percussion instruments. Because the light music is very melodic, as it is really just pop music, Chandran used five different tabla (right-handed) drums, so that he had a wide range of pitches to play with. He even tuned a dholak accordingly (to A on the music scale), and basically used it as a sixth tabla. In a purely religious setting, like that of a performance at a temple, a tabla player would most definitely not have so many tabla (right-handed) drums to work with, as the melody is not essential to Carnatic or Hindustani music; or rather, the melody is not the responsibility of the tabla player.

Considering its traditional roots, the versatility of the instrument is quite impressive: surely, the tabla is classical instrument – it must be remembered that Carnatic and Hindustani music are the equivalent of Western classical music, like that of Schubert or Mozart. Nonetheless, the tabla does not sound out of place in a contemporary context. Indeed, there is a certain paradox of the tabla, as it is able to juxtapose itself, by functioning in both traditional and contemporary music.

Aside from the tabla, Chandran also used a variety of percussion instruments, including some small bongos, a set of tom toms, and shakers. Interestingly enough, the shakers where just old aerosol cans filled with rice; very resourceful indeed. Also, the band had another drummer, named Madhavan, who played an electronic drum pad. Madhavan said that normally he plays an acoustic kit for his performances, but was unable to get one for this show.

Truth be told, the sound quality was pretty poor, so that was a little disappointing. Further, light music is almost a glorified karaoke, as just about anyone is welcome to grab the mic and sing his or her favorite Bollywood hit. Regardless, it was very entertaining to see my first light music performance. I thought it was interesting that although it was a light music performance, there still was a framed picture of Saravasti, the Hindu Goddess of Music on the stage.

I must admit, the groom did fairly well with his dowry: there was a motorcycle, television, refrigerator, washing machine, and much more. It is funny because I think I now have been to more Hindu weddings than “American” weddings…

PONGAL PROCESSIONS & EXPLOSIONS

Like all Indian festivals, Pongal is a sensory overload: the sounds, smells and sights engulf your entire being. What is so special about observing these festivals is the unexpected: indeed, I often do not know what to anticipate, especially in regards to the music. To be honest, I am not really sure how to share all of my Pongal experiences; so, here are just a couple short stories and observations from the festival. My apologies if there is a serious lack of transitions paragraph to paragraph…

During one of the afternoons of Pongal, I was walking with a Dutch fellow around Marina Beach. As I was telling him the single most valuable lesson I have learned from traveling throughout India – never, ever be surprised by anything – a procession with fireworks and a band came from out of nowhere. And yes, the explosions of the fireworks were too close for comfort…



Throughout Pongal, there are buses that go from the city to the surrounding villages. Many people actually leave Chennai to visit their families outside of the city. Not surprisingly, the public buses are packed with people; and many of these people are the festival musicians. So, quite frequently, a bus with drive by and there will be musicians onboard that are practicing…



On each night of Pongal, I watched the festivities in my neighborhood, Royapettah, which is in central Chennai. On all three nights, there was music; and while on all three nights, the drumming was the same, the accompanying instruments were different. The drums were rather interesting, as one side was played with fingers and the other a stick. The drums themselves have a very sharp, distinct sound, as the heads are made froma very thick oxen skin.

I was a little surprised to see a Western saxophone played during one of the religious processions; yet, as I already have written, I have learned to never, ever be surprised by anything in India. Even if traditionally a saxophone has no place in a Hindu temple, India, more so than anywhere else in the world, has a profound ability to adapt and absorb aspects of contemporary culture. On the most basic level, music is music; what does it matter what instrument is used in a religious ritual or ceremony?

I readily admit that the former sentence somewhat undermines the foundations of my research; yet, there is a certain truth that music does change with the time. Of course, it seems that the percussion instruments used in the festival still are “traditional” Indian instruments…



As you will witness in the videos, this procession, filmed in Royapettah, simply goes from the temple to the main road; only about three blocks or so. Throughout the city, I would imagine that there are dozens of similar displays: remember, Indians always seize the opportunity to partake in a festival!

While I would have liked to have seen the evening celebrations in other neighborhoods, it was really neat to see the same one three nights in a row. Often, for many obvious reasons, I feel very much so an outsider to these religious rituals and musical performances; yet, as I had been living in Royapettah for almost a month, to a minimal but existent degree, I did feel a part of the community. I knew several of the children and adults that were organizing and participating in the event.



On the last night, I actually was invited to perform the puja – wafting the smoke above my head three times and eating the prashad. It was a refreshing change to no longer feel like I was just an academic looking in, but instead a participant in the Pongal festivities.



Enjoy the videos; while many are similar, they do have their differences. Furthermore, Pongal is a visual and audio experience, so my descriptions admittedly provide little insight…