|
Shoji Kameda is on a mission. One of the founding members of neo-classical taiko crew On Ensemble, he knows that his craft is associated more closely with Obon and the shogunate than with the rock festival in Coachella and MTV. But he wants to change that and make his music more accessible to the under-60 set.
He is a bit like progressive rocker Beck that way, taking a familiar sound and reinterpreting it for a new generation. Kameda is also an audiophile. With his encyclopedic musical knowledge and enthusiasm, he hopes to bring taiko to the masses and change the way people perceive traditional Japanese percussion.
“If I had to put it in words, to me, taiko is not just a part of a Japanese heritage, it’s part of an American heritage,” he said in a recent phone interview. “Just to get them thinking, I would tell them this drum is as American as rock and roll. It’s really a modern art form. It’s as old as rock and roll.”
Though he laughs slightly at the sound of the cliché, Kameda’s statement is no joke. Talking to him, it becomes clear that the 31-year old takes taiko very seriously. Not to imply that he is stoic or wooden like bachi—his effervescence is immediate and the slight treble in his voice is friendly. But he discusses his craft with precision, as if he has played all his life. Of course, this would be incorrect—he has only been playing since he was eight.
He began in Mount Shasta, the small, verdant outpost near the Oregon border where he was raised. Masato Baba, one of his childhood friends and current On Ensemblist, introduced him to Shasta Taiko—one of the first children’s taiko groups formed in America—under the tutelage of Baba’s parents.
Since he started playing at such an early age, some may think that Kameda’s youth was stunted from such responsibilities. He would agree that his childhood was different, but not for reasons one might expect.
“I had an unusual childhood. I didn’t take it all that seriously when I was eight; taiko was something I just did. I think my growing up experience was unusual because I grew up in this little Northern California town and we were one of the only non-white family for miles around. My parents were ex-hippies. But I had an amazing childhood, it was so much fun. Mt. Shasta is the best place to be a kid. Climb cherry trees and pick cherries all day, go hiking, bike riding.”
From Mt. Shasta, moved south to attend—naturally—Stanford University—after a childhood spent in cherry orchards and on hiking trails, it seems fitting that he would want to go to school on “the farm.” There he would cultivate the two passions that still inspire him to this day.
He was an undergraduate history major in Palo Alto, but as he tells it, his real major was taiko. Kameda began playing with the campus taiko group where he met future band mate Kristofer Bergstrom. By then, he was hooked and he took a year off to study with Kenny Endo, the preeminent North American taiko master, in Hawaii.
Though he says he spent most of his time at Stanford practicing, Kameda did find room in his schedule to pursue his second favorite subject. If music is his art, then history would be his paintbrush, deftly guiding his strokes.
“I love history because of how it makes you think and approach problems. We feel everything can be understood in its context; there’s no historical truth, just perspective. I feel, as an artist, that’s a really important thing. Art doesn’t happen in a vacuum, it comes out of the social and historical context around it. It’s like being a visual artist and not understanding the color of your canvas.”
After graduation, Kameda toured the country playing for various groups. In 2000, he spent two years in Tokyo studying traditional Japanese music, like edo bayashi, hogaku hayashi and kumidaiko. He, like the rest of his band, takes pride in being grounded in his instrument’s roots.
Kameda now lives in Los Angeles, a far cry from the quaint town of his childhood and the fresh air of his youth. Gone too are the days of living in an exclusively Caucasian community.
As a fourth-generation Japanese American, he has grown to view his cultural upbringing with respect. But he also wants to separate himself and his music from being labeled as purely Japanese. Like a true historian, he views his heritage in perspective.
“My Japanese roots are extremely important. But there is a pretty big distinction between a Japanese American heritage and a Japanese heritage. I feel like Japanese Americans have been in this country long enough that we have developed a different culture and identity. You really feel that in Japan, you’re just a foreigner. Don’t get me wrong, I love Tokyo, but it’s just not home.
“As a Japanese American artist in the United States, it is really important to understand the context you are working in. You just have to try to understand how your work is going to be perceived and either work with it or work against it.”
Working against perception would be a catchy title for an On Ensemble documentary. And based on their combined experience—over 50 years playing taiko—they should have enough stories to warrant one. But their background belies their youth. All under the age of 32, the On claim such youthful musical inspirations as hip-hop and Icelandic electronica. And it shows.
Scattered throughout “Dust and Sand,” the group’s critically-lauded debut album, are a variety of sonic textures and influences. A turntable scratches behind the track “Zeecha;” “Same Planet” features symphonic samples more familiar to rap group Outkast’s “Ms. Jackson.” Underneath “Taiko Overtone Quartet”, one can hear the deep bass of a Tuvan throat-singer, like the hum in the movie’s soundtrack when the protagonists approach a mysterious cave.
Such connections would not shock Kameda, who is influenced by groups like Mouse on Mars and The Bad Plus. The result is not your father’s taiko, which is exactly what he wants to hear.
“We try to approach the taiko differently. Our group is not just about the taiko. We’re exploring a lot of musical territory; we want to make the taiko feel familiar. We use a turntable and a drum kit so it’s harder to associate it as an ‘ancient’ Asian art form. We’re just trying to speak to all those influences in our music.”
The Ensemble’s brand of taiko might be a tough sell for some listeners. The band will have to dispel the stereotypes of the casual fan and convince purists that turntables and taiko can coexist. But Kameda hopes it will be easier than that. After all, to him it is simply a matter of context.
“Music has that visceral quality to connect people regardless of their background. That’s one of the great universals of humanity, art. |
