Summer and all things sonic

I'm not such a great blogger. Others may have crazy ideas they like to call "themes", and can be considered such ludicrous concepts as "punctual". Turns out I'm about as good a blogger as I am an emailer. Which is like, about as reliable at turning out interesting posts as Paris Hilton would be at changing your car's oil, or Bush at chewing his food properly. Don't trust me. Or them - or elevator doors, while I'm on the topic.

People with meaningless celebrity status aside, around a month ago I managed to make it through both days of Osaka's main summer music festival, Summer Sonic. Though it's not as big as Fuji Rock, this years artists at SS were, in my humble opinion, far superior. We're talking about a showdown between Red Hot Chilli's, Jason Mraz, Soulwax, Tiga, Snow Patrol (all of whom I rued the missing of), along with KT Tunstall, Franz Ferdinand, The Hives, Scissor Sisters, Gnarls Barkley and The Yeah Yeah Yeahs, all who made the long trip to the middle of nowhere 1 bullet-train-hour from Tokyo, and the line-up I ultimately preferred: Tool, Daft Punk, Muse, DJ Shadow, Massive Attack, Phoenix, A.F.I, Fall Out Boy, Lost Prophets, Hoobastank, and local boys m-flo. Of course that wasn't the whole schedule; The Flaming Lips, Arctic Monkeys, My Chemical Romance, Nelly Furtado, The Kooks, Keane, The Cardigans and some jokers called Metallica and Linkin Park showed up too, but sadly the timetable resembled a Mars Volta track, i.e. a complete mess that somehow pulls itself off as art, and far too many sacrifices were made. Still, even at 24,000yen for 2 days (~US$240), more than twice the daily cost of the Pentaport festival in Korea, it was well worth the effort.

Day 1 (Click for larger image)

We arrived on day one far too late, thanks to being delayed on the bus by traffic, mainly people going to visit cemeteries. This isn't a fetish thing; the weekend happened to coincide with Obon, the festival of the deceased. Japan is probably the only country where you have to anticipate things like this, with maybe the exception of Mecca. New Years gets a lot more crowded with everyone heading to temples just before or after the countdown. Kind of an interesting predicament for the younger generation, who don't have the religion their parents did, but are so caught up in the different traditions that they can't imagine not being involved. I guess it's good for cultural karma. More culture than we have back home, though I can't decide if that's good or bad.
Anyway, we luckily managed to run in and catch Fall Out Boy start, who were just awesome. Highlight had to be one of their roadies, this big hairy guy built like Jack Black complete with afro and a near complete coating of fur. Pretty sure he was their idol, and he became the crowd's when he shook his sizeable booty, topless and sunburnt, to Dance Dance. If that guy can dance on stage like Bigfoot and Michael Jackson's baby, then noone in the crowd has any excuse not to be. Sadly, most of the crowd was pretty disappointing this year. Dunno if it was the heat, but I swear it went off far more last year.

Lost Prophets showed they really can't decide who they want to be, with a brand spanking new sometimes-I-cut-myself emo look, a schizophrenic playlist that mixed sell-out punk with the oldschool hard stuff, and though they couldn't be more American, the jokers from Wales couldn't help the Britishisms between songs: "Quite good, quite good" "Cup of tea?" "having a right laugh". Still, they were better than I'd been scared they would be.

The rest of the afternoon passed far too quickly. I've only become an A.F.I. fan lately, but their set made me love them all the more. They're pretty much the photonegative of Good Charlotte - proving that American rock can sell well without selling out. There's a fine line between the two, but they tread it well. Muse, on the other hand, were a little disappointing. Having said that, it was entirely the sound guy's fault: They sounded flat and unexplosive, and Matthew Bellamy knew it for sure, because he left two songs early. Still, awesome to see Supermassive Black Hole and Knights of Cydonia live, especially the latter where I desperately attempted to rouse the inert crowd. A dozen guys & girls nearby made my day by getting into it, but the rest of them should be ashamed of themselves, not reacting to great music like that.

I've wanted to see DJ Shadow for what seems like longer than I've been alive, so the disgusting clash between Tool and the end of his set was heartwrenching. What's more, though I will choose Tool over Linkin Park every day of the week, I was still gutted about missing them. The organisers didn't seem to realise that two quality rock acts shouldn't be pitted off each other like that. Tool should have preceded Metallica on Day two, on the main stage where they belong, but oh well. People are dumb.
Shadow's set was uplifting, his beats almost superceded by his visuals, including exploding crash-test-dummy heads, and drowning George Bushs. Tool didn't fail to please in the imagery dept. either, with hellfire and hypnotic patterns accompanying the standard crazy Tool graphics. Maynard looked like an American incarnate, oversized buckle, cowboy hat and aviators on top of a pasty potbellied nutcase, haircut like a buzzsaw mohawk and dance moves like a gyrating limbo-dancing crab. So evil, and so kicking of the ass. Seen Tool three times now, and I'm not disappointed yet.
Same can't be said about Massive Attack, who despite having a dozen guys on stage to bring their electronic tracks to life in an instrumental way, any "jamming" they seemed to try felt less like music and more like construction work. The tracks that did work sounded just like on the CDs, which was beautiful, but nothing special or new. Not bad, just a little plain.

Day 2

Hobbled home sore and stinking from a hundred other guys' sweat (I'm sure mine was in there too). Thought it might be a little hard to get up for the second day, but Japanese hiphop called and I answered. M-flo, two guys from Tokyo with multiple guest singers, rocked the party that rocked the party. They have some interesting querks, like never taking off their sunglasses for photos or gigs, and quoting oldschool hiphop guys on many occasions (Sugarhill Gang and Bobby Brown for starters), but they're talented both with the beats and the mike. Japanese rap sounds cooler than you'd think, certainly far more than Korean or Indian. Though Spanish has to be my latest favourite rap language, thanks to Gotan Project.

As for the rest of the day, Phoenix rocked out far more than I'd expected (who would've thought French singers liked to crowdsurf?). Zebrahead showed why they never made it big after "Get Back", and Hoobastank took a page from Lost Prophet's book, in some good sellout rock. Douglas the American-born Japanese lead singer made his grandma the happiest lady in Osaka when he brought her out on stage to wave to her hometown's locals, on what will apparently be her last trip to Japan. Deftones got a deathcircle of all the gaijin who knew them going, and carried on their tradition of interesting covers when Chino spliced Shakira's "Hips Don't Lie" into "Change".

Dear any fans of Metallica,
I didn't watch more than two songs of Metallica's before I left to get a good spot for Daft Punk. Please don't hit me. I would have loved to watch them, but I figured they may well be back to NZ sometime soon, whereas Daft Punk was bound to be the gig of the year. Plus, Metallica's *cough* kind of boring. Please don't hit me. Please.

I wasn't wrong. Daft Punk were amazing, sitting inside their Stargate-esque pyramid which at first glowed, then shone, then projected images of the earth from space...AV heaven. The best thing was all the songs they played were new versions, with the old mashed up with the new, all full of bass and asking to be jumped to. Double encore (planned, but so what) included Da Funk, which I had dreams that they would play. Whatever energy I had left at the end of two days of moshing was completely spent then and there. I don't take drugs, but the air and water felt like what I can only guess Ecstacy does - couldn't stop smiling for hours afterwards. Pretty damn sure I'll be back next year.

Yuki in Crazyland?

Yuki - Fugainaiya

My dear lord. This girl makes Bjork look sane. This is a track released for the anime 'Honey & Clover', though the video has little relevance to it. More like Alice in Wonderland. Yuki turns up at the end, drumming on a cat... Just watch it.

I hope they let me back in the country

Whale, anyone?

I was out with friends last Saturday night, a bit drunk (getting moreso, celebrating the victory ground out by the All Blacks over Australia), and being a bit adventurous in the food I ate. You may say "Tim, you've been in Japan collectively over 14 months now, surely you've eaten mostly everything they have to offer. What have you been doing, hiding under a rock and chewing moss?". To which I may well reply "how did you know?", but I may also point out that the Japanese really do have some nutso stuff on their menus, and everywhere's got its own speciality, so good luck munching your way through the jist of their cuisine. That could actually be fun: a Japanese food scavenger hunt. Quick, check the fermented beans off the list, we're off to find fish sperm!
Anyway, in our midst was a guy I hadn't met, Joran, who happened to be from Norway. And being Norwegian, he didn't just enjoy your everyday seafood; nay, he was partial to the 'other fish'. The big fullas. The ones we put a lot of effort into saving. Well, our side of the world does.

Now, I'm a fairly green kinda guy; 90% of what Jeanette and Nandor have to say makes perfect sense to me (apart from the wacky baccy. Find me an environmentally friendly reason for that one). And Greenpeace sure as hell have got their heads screwed on better than the majority of any political groups. But I still said to myself: I need some evidence that the opposition aren't completely insane. I need to know what Moby Dick tastes like. FYI, that's a literary reference, not a homoerotic one.

So, we ordered some whale sashimi. It looks pretty guilty to be honest: deep red, which sparked up great imagery that we always get in the news, with Greenpeace boats trying in vain to stop the massive corporate ships from dragging a semi-living whale carcass up the gangway, whilst it loses more blood than you thought it actually contained, like some kind of black hole of claret. The meat looks stained from the kill, but other than that, it pretty much resembles standard raw fish. And the taste is fairly non-offensive too. With sashimi you tend to use a variety of soy to dip it in, and all flavour is essentially drowned out by this. What do whales taste like? Pretty similar to tuna, especially when they're both coated in soy sauce.

So do I feel ethically bereft? A little. My whale experience left me with a great sense of "Oh, OK." Not "Ohhh, OK" where you've sussed it all out, but more like "Oh, OK..." where its just another piece in the puzzle. Whale doesn't taste bad, but it sure doesn't leave me gagging for more, especially as the price puts it more expensive than beef here. As far as political stance goes, I'm still pretty anti-whaling. But more than anti-whaling, I'm anti the whole whingy and cunning process by which the issue is handled. The moratorium is there for a reason: whales were being killed at a rate they couldn't handle. I don't care about tradition, I'm more concerned about extinction. But in the same sense, I don't have overly amazing affinity towards whales.

Finger lickin' good!

They don't snuggle me when I'm sleeping, and though they impress the hell out of me, I'm not going to loan a minke my car late at night. All the time and money that goes into meetings and arguments about whether it should be legal should be being spent on research, to figure out exactly how many dead whales is too many, and what rate of capture is 'sustainable'. Neither side has anywhere near enough evidence to support their cases. Meanwhile, I'm going to stick to "fishblocks". Damn, this one was salty.

This Binary Universe

Check this out. BT's newest album in the works. I get goosebumps.

Kids English Summer Camp: You have won a grand prize!

It was a dark and stormy night. No wait, that's the beginning of every story my father ever told. OK, a fairly ordinary morning. The place: central Osaka, Japan. Our hero (I use the term sparingly, without assumption that he has ever done anything 'heroic') exits a crowded train to enter a crowded station. Crowded suggests a large space is taken up, but in this case its fairly 2-dimensional: the bottom 3 feet of the station is taken up by the bodies of 300-odd Japanese children, like some shallow but dangerous pool. Japanese kids are shy at first, but they warm up quicker than a Coke left on a dashboard in summer. 15 minutes after wading his way into the group, our hero had two hanging off my arms and one trying to give him a kancho (Japanese for poke-in-the-butt). Anyone who's ever worked with Japanese kids know that poking someones ass isn't politically incorrect here, despite how disturbing that is.

The Magnificent Fifteen

Flashback (we probably need some backstory on this setting): One week previous we found Tim (for the lead in this story is indeed myself) signing up for a summer camp for Japanese primary school students (mostly 7-10 yr olds), designed to have fun with English. Have fun with English?, I hear you ask. Well, in this case that involved playing out a plot loosely based on Charlie & The Chocolate Factory, brought to you by the outrageously-copyright-dodgingly named PISNEY C corporation. To accomplish such an entertaining task an elite band of ninjas superheroes entertainers is an invaluable accessory. Brought in for the challenge are: In the back: Lucas (USA), Kerry (Canada), Daniel (Israel), Sam (Belgium), Myself, Andris 'Andreesh' (Hungary), Mari; Middle: John (USA), Miyuki, Yukie, Mami, Yuko; and kneeling: Fumiyo, Kazue, and Kayo on the far right. Children, prepare to have fun.

Arriving at the camp after a 3-hour train ride on which I posed for roughly 5000 photos and gave about 7000 autographs (or so it seemed), we checked into the spacious and seaside manor-esque hotel (think Solway Park, but actually interesting). Anyone keen on GoogleEarth can find the camp at 34°18'N 136°48'E, though the resolution of that part of the world isn't great yet. You can see how truly out in the middle of nowhere it is though, compared to the rest of Japan. Makes you appreciate it more. The heat was certainly making me appreciate the fact that we were going swimming - the humidity was just getting too much for me. It's like that everyday for about 2 months here, and you begin to realise why places like Spain have siesta. It's just too hot to do anything of importance, except use the waterslide, throw kids in the pool and avoid having your togs pulled off.

The plot of the evening involved introducing the kids to the special guest at the camp, Johnny Wonka, who tells the kids all about his new chocolate factory nearby. Along with company president Kerry and PR rep Yuko, he tells the kids a golden ticket will be hidden in just one of the chocolate cakes they will have for dessert. As it turns out, none of the cakes have a ticket (I should know, I ate about 6 pieces leftover. Damn good cake). John goes to find out what happened at the factory, and comes back covered in ants. His Oompa-Loompa helpers (Luca-loompa, Kayo-loompa, and a very sexily dressed Miyupa-loompa) have all been possessed by the Big Bad Ant (the 'B.B.A.'). They say the BBA has taken the ticket, and no kid will be allowed a golden ticket because kids eat too many sweets, play computer games too much and act selfishly. I fail to see how this makes him 'Bad'. I think he should be the 'M.B.A.', where the M stands for Moralistic, or alternatively, Manatee. Manatee Baby Ant.

So we go outside and try to find this oversized devilish insect. The kids gather round the campfire (we really don't need a campfire, its still a sauna outside even after the sun's gone down), and we dance and sing about how we won't eat too many sweets. Yuko brings bugspray, where the secret ingredients are keyword

Children with glowsticks, not supernatural phenomena.

s: 'be humble', 'be nice', 'be active', 'be kind'. The ant shows up in black PVC form, carried by the bigger kids he's possessed. The little ones all get a bit scared, but collectively we tell him to shove it, and that they're all good kids. The goodness of the children is too much for the ant to comprehend (or possibly it was he couldn't fathom the complexity of the lies?), and he runs away, losing an antenna in the process. Turns out we need both antenna to stop the ant and his regime. Leaving it all sounding a bit like a classic children's movie such as Gremlins, we head off to bed, or in the 'real big kids' case, off for a few drinks and a chinwag.

The next day (Wednesday, but you can't tell time when you're at a camp). I wake up (-grab the brush and put a little make-up-), and head out for the days activities. I supervised the traditional Japanese games (spinning tops and the like), but the highlight of the day was catching crabs in the swamp. Some big mother-fathers, but they were very susceptible to squid bait on the end of a piece of string. Was really nostalgic of the rock pools in Days Bay where we used to disturb the seaside wildlife on a regular basis. All these activities were for the kids to show their ant foe that they were active and kind, and they earned their brownie points to proceed to the 'Final Stage' (now it sounds like Tekken). Priceless moment when waiting to go in and face the BBA:
Kerry: Now, what do we do if we see the BBA?
***Silence***
Boy: Ask for an autograph?
The ant was eventually vanquished by the power of love and keywords, along with the help of an over-exuberant John, who faked his own death at least a dozen times for different child groups that afternoon (by faked I mean both literally and within the context of the plot: it turned out he didn't get killed after all). And what's more, everyone got a golden ticket! Sunshine lollipops and rainbows! Printed enthusiastically on each ticket is the words 'You have won a grand prize!'. What prize? Why, a trip home! But first, buy some dried shrimp biscuits for your grandparents from the giftshop and write your parents a pictureless postcard! That's the Japanese souvenior way!

Anyway, kudos and much love to the guys and gals at Yamaha English school, the neat staff at Nemu-no-sato, and to the kids who came to the camp - and kids everywhere, for that matter. Without you, we wouldn't need warning labels like 'Keep out of reach of children' and 'This site contains explicit content'. Keep up the good work.

One plus one equals...?