Crowded. So, so crazy crowded. I am at JR Takashiyama, a 10 story shopping mall that is part of the labyrinthine Nagoya Train Station complex. I landed on the shores of Nagoya, Japan a few months ago, propelled by the Japanese community in BKK1, their encouragement and an awful lot of sake. I am in the crowded retail maze of JR Takashiyama at a food fair looking for one member of that community, Hironobu Kurata, a very kind Japanese man I met at the Kichi Sake Bar in Phnom Penh. He is a pepper grower in Cambodia, one who helped resuscitate Kampot pepper years ago. He is a Nagoya native and is here in his hometown to sell his Kurata pepper, grown in Koh Kong. Hironobu is a super friendly guy who has been living in Cambodia for quite some time. He laughs when I say “Sok sabay, Bong”. After a limited bit of catching up that being in a big crowd affords, he graciously smiles when I buy 3 containers of his peppercorns, two of which will soon be delivered to other members of the Phnom Penh muso tapestry also currently living in Japan. The other is for me. His pepper rocks. Awkun chroem, Kurata-san. And kampai. Worth fighting the crazy crowds to see you. Pepper grinders in hand, it is time to schedule my deliveries. And to reminisce a bit.
I board a fairly fancy but inexpensive bus the next morning to make the 3 hour trek from Nagoya to Osaka. I am off to see Daisuke Yasukochi, bass player and human being extraordinaire. Daisuke was also part of the BKK1 Nihonjin community several years ago, running a produce market on street 63 while also gigging up a storm. I first encountered Daisuke when he entered the Sunday Sundowners Session at Tacos Kokopelli way back when, upright bass held over his head and a smile that lit up the room. The bass is still in Phnom Penh, the Preservation Jazz Hall sticker on the back of it fading with everyone swinging behind it. The smile is still mentioned in Phnom Penh, as Daisuke is a beautiful soul and his joy of playing is infectious. And man alive, the guy can play. Daisuke is living proof that the more talented someone is, the nicer they are, usually. I did a gig on the rooftop of the Aquarius Hotel with him and the magnificent Metta Legita back in the day and I had zero business sharing the stage with those two luminaries; both musical geniuses and both super kind and down to Earth. Daisuke’s smile reassured me that it was okay. It does the same in the present when we meet at a restaurant in Osaka’s Namba area, close to the river cruises where Daisuke plays Dixieland jazz on Saturdays. It does the same when I offer him a container of Kurata pepper. “Oh! I know him from my old market in Phnom Penh!” Kind. Down to Earth. Just brilliant.
While I thought that the shopping mall in Nagoya was crazy crowded, I was not prepared for the crowd in Namba, Osaka. Good grief. It has been quite cold here of late and this is the first warm evening in a while. Couple that with a full moon and the last weekend before schools start and well, walking and chatting along the canal was a challenge, but one met with a great smile, as always. It is like the riverside in Phnom Penh, Daisuke remarks, which it is. KInd of a beautiful thing after catching up and reminiscing about Cambodia over a great vegetarian dinner. Selfies taken and a road beer in hand, I say my so-longs and head towards Osaka Station to the fancy and fairly expensive bullet train taking me back to Nagoya, a 45 minute trip home rife with memories. Good Friday turned out to be a great Friday. Kampai, Daisuke-san. Awkun chroem, my friend. Time to plan the next pepper delivery.
It was also time to leave Nagoya. The Japanese school year ends in March and I had been teaching at three different junior high schools, each a 90 minute commute from Nagoya. Clean shaven, suit and tie, dealing with hormonal teenagers and very, very strict curriculums. I was fried, to say the least, to the point of just simply not wanting to teach any more. At least for a little while. My visa is tied to teaching so I may have to break out the black bespoke suit I had made in Phnom Penh again shortly, but for the time being I want to catch my breath and explore Japan a bit. Nagoya is a nice enough city but the best that was happening for me musically were jam sessions and open mics, each and all charging performers 2500 yen (roughly 15 American dollars) to play. As most musicians can attest, if you do not play with other musicians, something gets lost. I can (and do) work out with my practice pad, a metronome and the digital library of drum method books generously gifted to me by Sal, but I think that we all also need to play with others to keep ourselves and our ears sharp, establish a musical rapport and hone listening and response skills. I also just needed to get out of my severely overpriced apartment on occasion and meet people. There are some tremendously great musicians in Nagoya, so 15 bucks a jam, so be it. I wistfully miss the affordable apartments and the kind, vivid music scene in the Kingdom of Wonder. I can only imagine Dallas Fellows charging players 15 dollars a pop on Sunday afternoons. But I digress. It was time to pack up my pricey apartment, board the Shinkansen, say sayonara to the big city of Nagoya and head to the moon.
I would venture to say that anyone who has seen and heard, witnessed and experienced Geography of the Moon live has done so multiple times, and can vividly recall the first time. I first saw them in 2014 at Meta House version 2.0 at the strong suggestion of Taber Hand. He was not wrong. They were and are amazing. I have been fortunate to have gotten to know them a little bit over the years, lucky to have even played drums for them a couple of times at Oscar’s on the Corner. As Sal, Ernie Buck and a few others can attest, playing drums for them is not for the mild at heart. What a blast. They now reside in one of the southern prefectures of Japan, not paying to play open mics but actually gigging and developing a devoted following. I do not know many people who work harder than GotM, and it is incrementally but steadily paying off for them here in Japan. It was a joy to have been able to visit them on Virginia’s birthday, a joy made greater by seeing Penhois painter Emily Marques and her husband Josh Sayle, who traveled from the kingdom to visit. Upon my arrival at their door Andrea was working his mojo in their kitchen, preparing an outstanding birthday feast, using the Kurata pepper I presented. He did indeed pick it up, use it, and put it down. Their home was filled with joy, great food, creative neighbors and fellowship that night, as well as a few anecdotes about Phnom Penh. On and offstage, what a blast. Pepper delivered, it was time for me to again board the Shinkansen and make some sort of game plan for myself.
Just prior to leaving Nagoya, the manager of my favorite gyoza place asked “have you thought about WWOOFing?” as I was crying in my Sapporo over the thought of teaching. WWOOFing? Hai. World Wide Opportunities on Organic Farms. His question turned into me working for a rice farmer in the gorgeous mountain setting of Mie prefecture, spending a couple weeks barefoot in muddy rice paddies planting rice seedlings in exchange for room and board. What a way to clear my head and experience something new. Difficult, but gratifying. I will never take a grain of rice for granted ever again. Rice farmer Naoki and his wife introduced me to a Canadian bass player in the area, oddly enough named Dave. The second bass-playing Canadian Dave of my life took me to a local jam session a couple cities over, one not charging musicians to play. Dave brought along his brother Shawn, an affable fellow about to relocate to Siem Reap. Seriously. Small world. Neither of us were expecting to talk about Cambodia that evening, but speak glowingly I did. We all do, just before the suggestion to follow Leng Pleng. Hopefully Shawn will meet Chihiro at Atlantis in SR, have a nihonshu at Kichi in PP, hear the gorgeous harmonies of Cambodia Sound Base, have a whisky at Blue Hearts, a great cheap meal at Musashi, flirt with the great staff at Sakagura and build a bridge from Japan to Cambodia, a bridge crossed back and forth by a few of us. Hopefully he will discover Kurata Pepper as well. It does indeed rock.
Photos: supplied.