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Shorth Stories 2006-2007
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Rock N’ Roll Hall of Fame Induction of the Abysmal V.I.P.S.
By Albie Hewlett
The scene takes place at the Rock n’ Roll Hall of Fame Induction ceremony and the stage is empty except for a vacant podium.
ANNOUNCER: Ladies and gentlemen. Please welcome to the stage, from the band Thunder Squeak…Dominic Jarvis.
Applause as DOMINIC walks on stage up to the podium.
DOMINIC: Thank you ladies and gentlemen! It’s great to be here for this year’s Rock n’ Roll Hall of Fame Induction ceremony! I’m Dominic Jarvis, the bass player and back-up vocalist of Thunder Squeak and it is an honor to be here tonight. The Rock n’ Roll Hall of Fame has been a great monument in recognizing the achievements of some of the great contributors to rock n’ roll music. Maybe someday I will be inducted in here.
No response from the audience.
DOMINIC: Okay… anyway, tonight I have been given the privilege of inducting one of the great power trios of rock n’ roll and my favorite band…The Abysmal V.I.P.S.
Applause from the audience. DOMINIC starts clapping in agreement.
DOMINIC: Yeah! Alright! The Abysmal V.I.P.S immediately made their mark on the rock n’ roll map in the early seventies with their abrasive hard sound and their negative, poorly articulated lyrics. After years of success with such classic albums like “Cooler Than You” and “God’s Gift to Rock”, they were destined for superstardom until their guitarist, Podar D’Actionn, electrocuted himself when he hooked up his guitar to a live car battery in an attempt at improving on his revving guitar solos. Luckily Podar’s brother-in-law, Frank could play the guitar, so he joined the trio and helped to continue in the band’s success. Success met with disaster again when during a Mexican tour and an unanticipated piñata accident, the band’s lead singer and bassist Fitch Sawburg died. Fortunately, Fitch had the gift of gab. Many friends and family members donated answering machine tapes of various long messages he had left them. The band continued with a part of Fitch still in the fold. Curiosity and some minor success still followed the band for years until that dreadful day when the last surviving member of the band, drummer Tool R. Bonch was crushed to death after his one hundred and seventy-four piece drum kit fell on him during a tour rehearsal. It looked as if that would be the end of the Abysmal V.I.P.S’s legacy, but thanks to the business savvy of the band’s manager, Colonel John Parsons, a drum machine and computer technology, the Abysmal V.I.P.S continue to put out new music to this day. I mean, have you seen their new video? It’s awesome! So please join me in welcoming the new Rock n’ Roll Hall of Fame Inductees…The Abysmal V.I.P.S!
Relations and Relationships
By Elizabeth Weidenbach
It was first period on Monday at Ridgemont High. Everyone had the usual blank expression already planted on their faces, and as usual my boyfriend Evan was late for class. We had been going out for three months now, and in that time he had never once gotten to first period on time. But of course that didn’t matter because Evan was a football star. He was the quarterback to be precise. He could be present and accounted for without being present. It annoyed me, along with other things. I never was one to believe that who you are should determine how you are treated. But I wasn’t about to say anything because Evan was my boyfriend and that would not look good.
As I glanced around the room, I noticed all the different people who attended Ridgemont High. Not everyone was a football star believe it or not. There were the preppy girls with their perfect hair and make up, the geeks with their thick rimmed glasses, the band nerds, and the smart kids. I wondered what group I could put myself into and realized that it was none of those. The only group to which I belonged was the football stars’ girlfriends club. Most girls would be proud of that, but I wasn’t in the least. The more I thought about it the more I wondered why I was even going out with Evan. He was popular, athletic, and good looking, but he wasn’t exactly husband material and deep down I knew he wasn’t what I wanted. Well, to be completely honest it was a boy by the name of Brian who made me realize all of this and made me see how unhappy with Evan I was.
I had met Brian out of mere chance and in the most unlikely of places. As the teacher lectured on what happened two-hundred years ago, I thought back to one week ago.
The place was the mall and the day was Saturday. My friend Renee and I were wandering around discussing where we needed to go and what we needed to get. All I really needed was some new music. It had been a couple of weeks since my last CD purchase and I was going through some serious withdrawal. Music was a huge part of my life and if I didn’t hear something new and fresh I became somewhat cranky and irritable. Evan had never understood that. That was a passion it seemed we did not share.
Renee and I decided to split ways so we could cover more ground. She had some serious shoe shopping to accomplish, so I was left to my CD browsing. I made my way into my favorite store. The familiar scent of new clothes filled the air. I saw that not much had changed since my last visit. Posters and t-shirts lined the walls. CD’s were neatly stacked to the left of the store in alphabetical order. The faint sound of rock music floated through the air. I felt secure in this store. I wasn’t sure why but it didn’t make me feel uptight and pressured. Employees didn’t rush up to you and ask if you needed help. It was a very relaxed environment, like everyone in there had taken a step back from the hustle and bustle to just unwind.
I made my way over to the CDs. I felt like a huge dork as excitement began to build up inside me. I fought hard to suppress the urge to giggle. Yes, I was a dork. A music dork. But I didn’t really care. As I browsed through the CDs, I came to the conclusion that they didn’t have one that I desperately needed. I looked around and all the employees seemed to be busy so I ran through them one more time just to be sure. “They have to have it,” I thought to myself. And just when I was about to give up hope, I saw it. Under the B’s. The brand new Blood Brothers CD. And there was only one copy left. If I was excited before, that excitement was nothing compared to what I was feeling now. I reached out to grab the CD and much to my surprise my hand came to a stop not upon the CD but on another hand. I could feel my face turn red as I looked to see who my competition was. Next to me stood a boy. He wasn’t anything special. His hair was brown, and he was a bit on the short side. I’d say he was one to two inches shorter than I am. He was not scrawny. His muscles appeared to be quite defined under his ripped jeans and worn black t-shirt. In essence he was what girls would classify as “skater.” He had that rebellious look about him but not to the point of being a “bad boy.” His eyes were electric blue, the kind of blue that appears in the sky on a bright clear day. After a moment I was brought back to the situation at hand and wondered if his eyes made the same assessment of me as I had of him. I could still feel my face burning scarlet, and I hoped it didn’t look half as red as it felt. I was so glad when he broke the ice because I couldn’t bring myself to say a word.
“Um hey, sorry. I guess we both had the same CD in mind.”
“I guess we did,” I said half bumbling, half giggling. Why in the world was I giggling at a time like this?
“Well, you go ahead and take it. I can wait for another shipment to come in next week,” said the mystery boy.
“Oh no, I insist ummm. . .”
“Brian. And no, I insist. Ladies first.”
“Thank you, Brian, but really I would not feel right taking it. And besides, your hand was on it first.”
“Oh well while this might be true; your hand seemed much more excited than mine to have that CD,” Brian said as his mouth widened into a crooked smile.
I laughed after he said this realizing how ridiculous I must have looked after seeing that CD. I became embarrassed again.
“Listen, I’m not taking the CD, and if you don’t take it either, who knows who will end up with it. We wouldn’t want the new Blood Brothers to end up in undeserving hands would we?”
I managed to let out another laugh. This Brian kid was quite funny. I could tell he had a sarcastic side and I had a weak spot for sarcasm. “Well, Brian, I am NOT taking the CD believe it or not no matter what you say. So please, just buy the darn thing.”
“Okay, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll buy the CD if you will listen to it with me. That way it’ll be both of ours in a weird way.”
The idea sat in my mind like a dead weight. There was nothing I’d rather do than listen to it with this boy Brian, this boy I didn’t even know. But still, there would be nothing wrong with that. Then I remembered Evan. What would he think about all of this? I don’t know why I even asked the question because I already knew the answer. He would be upset. I didn’t want Evan to get mad with me. “I’m so sorry but I can’t. I ....”
“Let me guess, you have a boyfriend?”
“Yes, I’m sorry. But you will enjoy it without me I’m sure.” After I said these words, I couldn’t help but wish he wouldn’t enjoy it without me.
“I suppose you are right.”
“Well, I guess I’d better be going then. It was nice to meet you, Brian.” I began to walk away and realized something.
“Wait, wait! I’m sorry but I didn’t catch your name.”
The hurriedness in his voice made me smile to myself. “My name’s Lizz.” And I kept on walking, smiling to myself.
******************************************
“Elizabeth!”
Quickly the image of the mall and of Brian faded away. Embarrassed, I glanced around and saw the whole history class staring at me. I sunk deeper into my desk hoping the moment would just end.
“Elizabeth, do you happen to know the answer or are you planning on telling the class telepathically?”
“I’m sorry sir, could you please repeat the question.”
“Why was Roosevelt’s Progressive Party nicknamed the ‘Bull Moose’ Party?”
“Well, sir, that would be because Roosevelt always said he felt as strong as a bull moose.”
“Very good. It might have taken you awhile, but at least you managed to come up with the right answer.”
With that the bell rang. Thankful, I gathered up my notebooks and grabbed my book bag, and made a mad dash for the door. All the while, one thing remained in the back of my mind.
The rest of the morning passed without any more humiliating occurrences. I was on my way to lunch, and as usual Evan came trotting down the hall shouting my name at the top of his lungs. I really did not want to talk to him, and for the first time, the sight of him actually made me angry. He pushed through the crowds of underclassmen and proceeded to “shine” the top of my head, messing up my hair. It was in that moment I truly realized that Evan was no longer what I was looking for. He didn’t know me. If he did, he would know I didn’t like when people touched my hair. I decided it had to end. I couldn’t take it anymore. “Evan, we need to talk. And I mean, we really need to talk,” I said with the firmest voice I could muster.
“About what, doll face.”
“Evan, you don’t know me. You don’t know what I like. You don’t know my favorite color. You don’t know that I hate being called doll face. You know nothing about me. I need someone who’s more like me, who can relate. It’s time this relationship ended. For good.”
“What do you mean, ‘I don’t know you’?! We’ve been going out for three months, Lizz. I know that you’re adopted, you listen to bad music, and you have three dogs.”
“Ya, Evan, and while you might know that I’m adopted and have three dogs, you haven’t made an effort to connect. Nothing you can say will change my mind. It’s over.” And with all the courage I could find I walked away and didn’t look back.
By three-thirty, the whole school had heard the news. As I walked down the halls, people whispered and pointed. I heard a lot of different versions of the same story, none of which were correct. It somehow turned into a story about Evan “putting me in my place” and watching me run into the girls bathroom sobbing. On a normal day this would bother me. But today, it didn’t.
I gave it a couple days before I did what I had wanted to do since Saturday. One of the punk rock girls at school gave me Brian’s number, and every night I stared at it until the digits burned into my brain. Finally, I had had enough. I was going to call this Brian and tell him that we should hang out sometime. As I reached for the receiver, I noticed my hands were shaking. I took this as a good sign and one-by-one pressed the digits. On the other end it began to ring. Fighting the urge to hang up, I gripped the phone until my knuckles turned white.
“Hello?”
I recognized Brian’s voice at once, on the other side of the line. “Ummm, hi. I don’t know if you remember me, well I hope you do, but I met you at the mall on Saturday. You were looking for the Blood Brothers CD and so was I and then we talked for a while and I’m really sorry to be calling you but this girl at school gave me your number and I thought I’d call and see if you wanted to come over and listen to it if you haven’t already got your own copy because if you have, that’s okay I was just wondering because I know I got the last copy and....”
“Sure. I’d like that, Lizz.”
I couldn’t decide if I was more shocked by the fact that he remembered my name, or the fact that he wanted to come over. Either way, I felt a warmth creeping up inside of me. I wanted to shout and scream and dance all at the same time. But, knowing I was still on the line, resisted. “Wow, okay. That’s awesome. Come over whenever you want and we’ll listen to it. To be honest, I haven’t really had time yet, so it’ll be new for both of us.”
“That sounds good to me. I’m free tomorrow after school. I’ll see you then.”
“Great! I live on...”
“I know where you live.”
“You do?” I said, trying not to sound too surprised.
“Ya, a girl at school told me.”
I laughed and said “Well, after school it is then. See you later.”
“Alright. It’s a date. And Lizz, thanks for calling.”
I hung up the phone feeling happier than I had ever felt. I couldn’t wait till tomorrow.
Fast forward two months. Brian and I were now in a relationship. For a couple of weeks it was the juiciest gossip at school. Word had finally spread that I had been the one to end the relationship, and Evan’s reputation had taken a heavy blow. Then, the news that I essentially left the captain of the football team for the grungy skater really didn’t help his situation much. But nevertheless, I was happy and that’s all that mattered to me. Brian and I had a great time together. We had so much in common, including the same birthday, which I found to be remarkable. We liked the same music, had the same interests, and simply just enjoyed each others company. Tonight I was going to meet Brian’s parents. Of course I was nervous, but I knew it’d be okay. From what I knew of them, his parents seemed to be genuinely nice people who loved their son and seemed interested in meeting his girlfriend. I spent two hours getting ready and, at five-thirty Brian was ringing the door bell. “I’m ready,” I said to him, giving my new dress a little twirl.
“You look lovely, Lizz. You really do. Are you nervous?”
“Not really. I just hope they like me.”
“Why wouldn’t they? You’re perfect. There’s nothing about you they wouldn’t like, trust me. Besides, if I like you that should be good enough for them.”
“Good point,” I said as we got in his car and started down the street. Twenty minutes later we came to a stop in front of a beautiful Victorian home in the suburbs.
“Don’t look so surprised, Lizz. You didn’t think I was poor did you?”
“No, no! I just didn’t think you lived...here,” I muttered, feeling slightly embarrassed.
“It’s okay. Let’s just go inside. It’s a bit cold out.”
I walked inside and immediately was in awe. The ceilings were high and made out of glass. A marble staircase ascended to an immaculate balcony with mahogany railings. Beautiful paintings lined the walls, which were no doubt covered in expensive wall paper, and from the windows hung dainty lace curtains. This house was beyond glamorous. It was breathtaking. My eyes went back to the staircase. A woman was slowly making her way down to greet us, but as I looked at her, a horror struck me. A horror beyond anything I could fathom, worse than the worst nightmare. It struck her, too. She cried out, “Oh my God! It’s her!”
I screamed as Brian’s mother fainted and fell softly down the stairs. A man, assumed to be Brian’s father, came running out of a room nearby and rushed over to his stricken wife. He looked at me, and I looked at him. I screamed some more and ran past Brian. He grabbed me, stared me straight in the eye and in pain and confusion asked, “You’re my sister?”
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Photographs 2006-2007
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Chicago 145
Memory Chao
Chicago 164
Memory Chao
Chicago 178
Memory Chao
Chicago 182
Memory Chao
Chicago 192
Memory Chao
Chicago 209
Memory Chao
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Essays 2006-2007
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“The Royal Tenenbaums” (2001); Directed by Wes Anderson
Steve Balsarini
One would think that at this point, I would learn to keep my big mouth shut.
I have received more than my share of grief from friends, family members, and coworkers alike for my taste in movies. Most of the time I just remind them that at least I have some. My punishments are usually mild; being gently chided for rolling my eyes while overhearing a female colleague gush about whatever mindless, formulaic “chick flick” she and her girlfriends saw the previous evening on their “Girls’ Night Out”. Sometimes, though, the penalties are more severe, escalating to near fisticuffs and accusations of disloyalty to the state (“What are you, a commie?!”) as the result of stating my dislike for “World Trade Center”, and dismissing it as ham-handed propaganda.
It seems, however, that if I ever needed to be careful about what I criticized, I especially need to be careful about what I praise as well. The consequences can often be as, if not more, dangerous.
I recently sat down at a local coffee house with several friends and acquaintances, and the topic of movies once again reared its ugly head. After a little good-natured banter over who was the better Bond (Sean Connery, of course), we started talking about our “All-Time-Favorites”. When it came to my turn, I paused, looked thoughtfully up toward the coffee bar menu, and said, “You know, I really liked ‘The Royal Tenenbaums.’”
The rest of the table froze. They seemed to slowly recoil, looking at each other with silent dismay. They then turned back to me, and then back again at each other, stupefied. It was as if they had actually heard me say, “You know, I really liked that ‘Mein Kampf.’”
Kellie, the aforementioned chick-flick addict, seemed to be the most upset among them by my statement. She was the first to speak.
“Yeah, I saw it. I didn’t get it.” She said, in a derisively challenging tone.
The others, in silent agreement, all seemed to nod almost imperceptibly to each other as they turned toward me in unison, awaiting my response.
Common sense and decorum would normally have caused me to simply demur mildly at that moment with a passive chuckle and feign interest the rest of the evening as the table discussed the relative merits of gravity-defying light-saber fights versus the poignant and moving love soliloquy Keanu Reeves delivers to finally win the heart of the heroic, strong-willed, modern woman. Unfortunately, this would not be the course of events that this particular evening would take.
Inexplicably, I chose to throw caution to the wind that night, and decided to defend my choice with all of the ferocity with which it had been assailed.
If I had ever felt any ambivalence toward “The Royal Tenenbaums” before that moment, that ambivalence was now gone. I now LOVED this movie, and I would be damned if I was going to sit there and let anybody, least of all “Chick Flick Kellie”, malign what might now be, to me, the greatest motion picture ever made. Kellie had made a terrible miscalculation, and it was now time for her to pay.
First, I would describe how, from the beginning, the very structure of the film, organizing the story into chapters, punctuated by the narration of Alec Baldwin (ironically, probably his finest work), makes it possible for us to appreciate fully the odyssey of Royal, the patriarch of the Tenenbaum family, and his exceptional, albeit presently troubled children: Chas, a financial genius; Margot, a highly praised playwright; and Ritchie, a tennis superstar, all fallen upon hard times. We see them struggle, fail, struggle again, and finally find some sort of fulfillment. It is an epic journey.
I would then describe how painfully well written and developed the characters are, each with his or her own distinct talents, terrible weaknesses, and difficult challenges; how the cast, a group of freakishly talented actors, breathe life into these characters while allowing their own celebrity personas to disappear completely within them.
The script’s themes – early promise and unfulfilled potential, loneliness, shame, unrequited love, regret, redemption, and acceptance– are universally accessible and speak directly to the heart. At various times in all of our lives, we have felt as these people have felt, and we ought to be fascinated when the mirror is held up before us so uniquely.
I could already hear her sneering her complaints. “People don’t act like that; People don’t talk like that! Nothing happens! They don’t do anything!” To that I would only need to say that it is that very restraint and formality in the action and dialogue that makes the story so effective. We are allowed to be moved by the power of the words; they are never diminished by any ridiculous “over-the-top” performance. Jim Carrey would never get within twenty miles of a Wes Anderson set. Add to that the amazing cinematography, replete with montages and slow zooms, the marvelous sets and costumes, the quirky New York City landscapes, and top it all off with an incredible music soundtrack, and only a Neanderthal could miss all of the beauty and charm in this film.
I thought briefly about that car insurance commercial with the cavemen, and for just a moment pictured Kellie, with a gigantic unibrow, protruding teeth, and a bone through her nose. Hmmm. The time for her come-uppance was now at hand.
I never did get to defend “The Royal Tenenbaums” to these people. Rather than going directly into my arguments, as I should have done, I decided to start with a vaguely glib insult, saying something about “Pearls before swine”, making sure to say the word swine just as my eyes locked with Kellie’s. Understanding my intent perfectly, her eyes flashed with rage, and she shrieked, “Did you just call me a pig?!” Cursing like a sailor, she then flung the entire contents of her Grande Mocha Frappucino all over my face and chest.
I remember as I sheepishly walked out the door, amid the jeering and laughter of the entire room, covered in coffee, chocolate and milk, hearing a pleading voice in the back exclaim desperately, “Oh, come on, don’t you get it?! They’re snakes…ON A PLANE!”
History of Japanese Music
Dan Stanton
Japanese culture is popular worldwide (Faiola). Japanese movies, video games, and television programming often use current Japanese music. Because the music is in the background, it is easier to miss what a Japanese listener hears automatically. A study of traditional Japanese music informs the non-Japanese listener of the influences on Japanese composers that he or she would not have otherwise known about. If these influences seem strange to the American listener, he or she may be inclined to think that Japanese music is strange because of those influences, without realizing that the musical tradition of Japan is as valid as any other musical tradition. For those who have grown up in America, music means rock, pop, country, soul, funk, jazz, classical, electronic, or another genre. Each person has his or her own taste. Most of the time, Americans export music rather than import it. Even imported music is often stylistically similar to American and Western music. Listening to this kind of music can give an impression that all music has a steady and regular tempo, a main melody, and a sound that is "pure," separate from the day-to-day noise of life. There are exceptions to these generalizations even among some music artists of America, but, most often, the people that choose not to listen to the music artists that "break the rules" believe that their choices in music are more refined. The generalizations about American music, after considering all of Japanese music, seem to be arbitrary constraints rather than universal rules. A new perspective is gained after studying something as foreign as Japanese traditional music.
Some of popular Japanese music sounds like music of the USA, except, perhaps, that the voices are singing in Japanese. What a casual American listener may not realize is that some Japanese music artists try to emulate American and Western music and have been doing so for about the last fifty years. The presence of American soldiers in Japan after World War II left some Japanese with a taste for modern American music (Fujie 205). After the war was over in Japan, many Japanese believed Western music was better than Japanese music. Nationalism had dominated Japan's culture previous to and during the war so much that being defeated in war was a defeat for their culture. Japanese musicians then studied American music for its underlying spirit and, through dedicated practice, learned to imitate it (Galliano 8-9).
Other pieces of popular Japanese music might sound strange to American listeners because a particularly Japanese tone of voice or chord is used, but the underlying musicality is still very similar to American music. Since the late 1950s, Japanese music artists have combined what they know of American music with a Japanese sound, creating a new genre called Japanese pops, now just J-pop. This music is still a major influence on Japanese popular music today (Fujie 207). Another Japanese music genre called enka can sound rough and overdramatic to an ear that is used to Western music. The genre was a way of returning to the musical traditions of Japan from before Western influence. Now, the Japanese accept enka as a musical genre on its own (Fujie 207). Though it may sound like the music of a bygone era, it only happens to be the music that currently sounds the most like traditional Japanese music.
To the Japanese, all sound can be considered musical (Galliano 7). In contrast to Western music, environmental sounds can be considered to be part of a musical performance rather than superfluous and interfering noise. Music is sound that originates with the intention to convey meaning. This attitude is drawn from the idea that all sound carries meaning. For example, in ritualized archery, the teacher pays close attention to the sounds that the student makes while standing, drawing the bowstring, and releasing the arrow (Sukiyaki). Every change in timbre can relate the artist's feelings to the listener. This explains why proper use of tone, sound, and silence through the concentration of the artist is considered to be necessary to good music.
Being "clean" does not make a sound good. For example, one string instrument, the shamisen, has a string that is set to rattle against the neck, making the sound noisy on purpose. Silence used in music is not just the absence of sound; it fills the gap between notes with meaning and relates what comes before with what comes after (Galliano 14-15). Silence is not used just to have a little rest between phrases. The silence is part of giving an impression just as the tone is a part. The ideal performer is single-minded in his or her playing or singing. Focused sound production is what makes music, giving expression to feeling and thought of the music artist. The ideal listener is also focused on the sound, following every shading and nuance. Whatever interpretation of the music that there is occurs as the music is heard, according to the style of the music. Each style has a customary way in which ideas and thoughts are expressed, and knowing a style allows one to experience them in the moment of listening to it.
For an average American, Japanese traditional music is a long way from home, and knowledge of it is not necessary for the appreciation of modern Japanese music. Regardless, this history is still valuable. The history of traditional Japanese music reflects on the Japanese themselves by showing them to have been at times disciplined, respectful, insightful, and adaptable. Modern Japanese music seen in the context of its history gains a new dimension. Granted that not all Japanese music is good, an understanding of its history will help to explain the musician's motivations in making the music, giving it more meaning.
Japanese music that was free of the influence of Western nations was known as zokuyo (Fisher). Even this music probably had some extra-national influences, but they were from the other direction. Influences on Japanese music from China and Korea existed in Japan since the third century AD (Fisher). Most music at this time would have been minyo, the folk songs that were only popular in their own specific region of Japan (Fisher). They would be sung non-professionally, as a part of life. The songs would often be about work or love or they would be such that they could be sung in accompaniment to work or games (Fujie 202). The songs could have been about farming rice, drawing fish nets, or they could have just been lullabies (Fisher). Minyo was the music most closely involved with the common people.
Over time, minyo has changed with the introduction of new instruments, the appearance of larger cities, and the Meiji revolution of the mid-nineteenth century. Once the sanshin, qin, and shikyoshi (a lute, zither, and end-blown flute, respectively) were introduced into Japan from China, they were gradually incorporated into minyo along with drums and bamboo flutes. Eventually, the instruments would be modified and become known as Japanese instruments (Fisher). Minyo would adapt to the available instruments, even if the only instrument was a human voice (Fujie 202). During the Nara period (710-794), minyo continued to develop through dance and local festivals (Fisher). The songs would spread with the people, so they would naturally be found at ports and stations ("Japanese"). After people moved away from their respective regions, being able to hear minyo from where they grew up would induce a feeling of nostalgia (Fujie 202). Also, song could be spread from town to countryside to become associated with the rural area even as the townsfolk move on to new music ("Japanese"). The music was closely tied to the lives of the people, so it had to change with them.
For as long as the Japanese have been keeping written records, there has been evidence of a musical tradition in the Imperial Court (Galliano 6). These records predate the Nara period (710-794) (Fisher). They come from the court of the dominant clan of that time, the Yamato clan ("Japanese"). Concurrently, China's culture was growing under the well-established Tang Dynasty (618-907) (Galliano 5). The Chinese music culture was strong enough to reach the Japanese Imperial Court near the beginning of the seventh century (Fujie 201), and the Court adopted it (Galliano 6). At first, Chinese musicians played this new music on Chinese instruments (Fisher). Similar music came from the nations of the Korean peninsula and another country from the area where Vietnam is now. Afterward, for a time, Japan was secluded from influences of the world outside. During this time, the Japanese learned to play gagaku, the orchestral music of the Imperial Court. During the ninth century, the music from China and the Vietnam region became known as "pieces of the left" and music of the Korean peninsula became known as "pieces of the right." Distinctions between the two included different instruments and other more subtle differences such as entering the stage from different sides ("Japanese"). Time apart from outside influences during the Heian period (794-1184) also allowed the Japanese to modify and experiment with this new music. After that, the music was considered Japanese, but, even so, it was remembered that the music was originally foreign (Galliano 6).
During the Nara period, Buddhist ritual songs and chants became known among the Buddhist priests (Fisher). Buddhism itself had existed in Japan since the mid sixth century ("Japanese"). However, it wasn't until the eleventh and twelfth centuries that Buddhism gained enough of a following among the high class for its music to be entered into Japanese culture so much that its chanting was developed formally. By this time, Japan was entering the Kamakura period (1185-1333) (Fisher). This Buddhist chant would be known as shomyo (Fujie 201). The chant would be used to recite religious texts. There were three types depending on what language the chant was in: Bonsan for Sanskrit, Kansan for Chinese, and Wasan for Japanese ("Japanese"). In the Kamakura period, gagaku became less popular and shomyo gained a place in Japanese culture. Overall, the most popular songs of this time were sung dramatic narratives (Fisher). During this time, there were not any major stylistic changes in any kind of music ("Japanese"). This leads directly to the Muromachi period (1333-1568) (Fisher).
The Noh theater known widely today was developed at the beginning of the Muromachi period ("Japanese"). Before then, it was known as sarugaku, a popular form of comic acting; "saru" means "monkey," in this case ("Japanese"). Kan'ami Kiyotsugu and Ze'ami Motokiyo, a father and son that both perform ed sarugaku, added a shortened form of shomyo, called imayo, and a type of dance of professional female dancers, called kusemai, to sarugaku. This new form was known as sarugaku noh, and is currently known as just noh. It flourished under the support of shogun Ashikaga Yoshimitsu, but in the Edo period, new shoguns believed the noh drama to be overly simple and dramatic. Then, it was adopted by the samurai as their entertainment because many plays involved the samurai code of ethics ("Japanese").
Noh itself is a masked drama ("What is"). The hayashi is the ensemble that makes the music for noh. It generally consists of the nohkan (a flute), kotsuzumi (a handheld drum), taiko (mounted drum), and ji (chorus). The musical style of noh theater is known as yokyoku, and shomyo strongly influenced its vocal style (Fujie 201). In general, noh uses eight beat patterns without equal divisions (Fujie 200). The percussionists may also make theatrical yells, called kakegoe, to signal emotion and theme in the story and to control the rhythm, helping other musicians to keep their places (Emmert).
For a time, Japan existed in a state of civil war, but the efforts of Oda Nobunaga, Toyotomi Hideyoshi, and Tokugawa Ieyasu brought Japan together under one government ("Japanese"). The different classes of citizen were then strictly defined and members of each class could only interact with its own members (Galliano 16). Because of that, each class upheld its own music and its own customs. Commoners could hold on to their minyo, and they might entertain themselves with puppet theater, known as bunraku. Merchants had kabuki, a very unique and extraordinary dramatic performance. Noh, as it was already noted, was the music of the samurai and military aristocracy. The highest class kept the tradition of gagaku music. The two forms of entertainment that were still developing were bunraku and kabuki, both of which rely on joruri, the style used when voice is used to tell a story ("Japanese"). Therefore, they both rely somewhat on the musical principles established by noh, rakugo (a way of voicing comedy), and kodan (a way of voicing history).
The Edo period lasted from 1615 to 1867, and during this time Japanese music flourished (Fujie 202). Kabuki theater was the popular entertainment for a rising merchant class; Noh was the preferred performance of the samurai. The common people had songs to accompany some times of their lives, classified as minyo, but they might also enjoy the drama of bunraku puppetry. The Buddhist monks were generally satisfied with shomyo with which they would recite their texts. The upper class adhered to the traditional music of the royal court: gagaku. Different classes had different entertainment. This distinction stems from the idea of shi-no-ko-sho, that different classes should be separate. Each class would live, work, and entertain itself as separately as possible from any others. An encounter between classes had to follow the rules of social etiquette. The member of a lower class had to be humble and honor the higher, even if the person of the lower class was more powerful in wealth or strength than the other. Meaningful interaction between classes was discouraged (Galliano 17). This separation allowed different musical styles to develop in different directions simultaneously.
During the Edo period, there were also specific types of music that became widely known. The people of Japan could travel unrestricted once it was unified. Unification brought peace, and so, many samurai no longer had a job nor masters that would employ them. By definition, this made the samurai into ronin. They lost their way of life, and some of them became Buddhist monks ("Interview"). As monks, they could become komuso, wanderers that would wear baskets over their heads and play the shakuhachi (Fujie 202). They would play music that was believed to aid in healing. The basket would hide their face from sight, helping the monks to lose attachment to their self-concept. However, this same anonymity was valuable to the government ("Interview"). Spies would dress as komuso (Fujie 202). Some of these would play a shakuhachi large enough to double as a weapon ("Japanese"). Also, blind biwa players would travel from town to town retelling parts of "Heike Monogatari" ("The Tales of the Heike [Clan]") to make their living. This music was known as Heike biwa, and the players dressed as Buddhist monks though they probably had no personal nor special connection to the religion ("Japanese"). Once the shamisen was introduced, there were also blind shamisen players. Their music was known as tsugaru shamisen (Fisher). Much development on the shakuhachi and shamisen can be credited to these groups of travelers. The influence of the blind musicians was strong because they became the teachers of the shamisen. So strong was their influence that the shamisen lacked precise musical notation until the twentieth century (Malm 6).
For the koto, there were two new types of music: jiuta and shirabemono. In jiuta, the music would alternate between vocal and instrumental sections. During the vocal sections, the koto would become accompaniment. In shirabemono, the music generally followed a pattern: a basic theme would be presented, followed by variations in that theme; after a number of variations, a new theme would follow, and the song would end (Fujie 202). The komuso, Heike biwa, and tsugaru shamisen were all widely known in Japan, but sankyoku was more popular than any of those. Sankyoku is a three-piece ensemble ("san" means "three") consisting of the koto, shamisen, and shakuhachi (Fujie 202). Another popular new style of music among the common people was the kouta or "short song." In it, the vocalist employed a nasal singing voice, called hanagoe, to sing about someone or something that they had strong feelings for, often a lover or their hometown (Fujie 203).
Kabuki theater is dramatic, esoteric, extravagant, and demanding of the performers. The music of it, called nagauta, has been often overlooked as a part of Japanese musical history (Malm xiii). Essential to kabuki is the jōruri narrative form. Around the thirteenth century, a style called sekkyō-bushi formed, in which Buddhist parables were retold as ballads with accompaniment from a biwa. This would be an early ancestor of narratives with shamisen. It would eventually come to be known as sekkyō-jōruri, but not before the appearance of a narrated romance named Jōruri-hime Monogatari Funidan Zōshi in the sixteenth century. This is what establishes jōruri. There would also be oku-jōruri in which the narrator would keep rhythm by beating a fan against his or her hand. Shamisen-jōruri later develops out of both sekkyō-jōruri and oku-jōruri. These styles were the precedents for the new kabuki. The musical instruments for kabuki were, at first, taken directly from noh. Early acting troupes for kabuki were made up of prostitutes of both genders that would act as the opposite sex. This was onna (women's) kabuki. The content of the shows was suggestive; the name "kabuki" appears to have its origin in the word "kabuku" or "to incline." Wakashū-kabuki was intended for homosexuals. In the first half of the seventeenth century, both women and homosexuals were officially banned from the kabuki stage. After that, male actors would play the female roles in yarō-kabuki (men's kabuki). Then, fewer of actors were prostitutes, but the subject of the performances was still often related to the business of selling sex. However, it gradually became less so, and in the eighteenth century, kabuki was aided by the skilled writing of Chikamatsu Monzaemon, who had originally written plays for puppet theater. Also, the dances that were already part of kabuki were lengthened, and it was here that nagauta ("long song") is first used. Kabuki gains the chobo, which is the shamisen and narrator as a pair. The meriyasu (interlude) is also added. In the nineteenth century, excellent music was written as nagauta. Eventually, concerts were held just for this music. That type of performance is called ozashiki nagauta. After this, improvements to kabuki slowed almost to a halt. The Japanese government decided to try to become more Western (and therefore more modern, by their logic) in order to avoid becoming a colony, so the traditional art forms were modified or repressed (Malm 4-18).
Bunraku is Japanese puppet theater, and its music is a narrative jōruri form ("Japanese"). Bunraku does not require puppeteers to be hidden from view. This means that two and three puppeteers can operate one puppet that has moving arms, legs, hands, head, and eyes. In bunraku, the accompaniment is similar to Kabuki; it is a narrator and shamisen player as a pair. They, too, are visible, seated in a kneeling position at an area right of the stage. The narrator is the voice for every character and alternates among three styles throughout the show. The first style is ji, a lyrical style, emphasizing the rhythm, tone, and melody as well as the words. The second style is ji-iro, which is similar to singing with a speaking voice. As such, what is said is more important than it was in the ji style. The third style is kotoba. Used for normal speaking parts, it is more regular than ji or ji-iro. It does allow for emotion, but the enunciation is straight. During the show, the narrator reads from the yukahon, "reciting book." In it is the entire text of the play interspersed with markings in the ji and ji-iro sections for describing the way in which the speech is lyrical. This means the markings are for rhythm, pitch, and tone. However, the notation for pitch is relative, not exact; meaning the base pitch for any performance depends upon the choice of the narrator. The shamisen player, on the other hand, has the music memorized. There are generally no running melodic themes in the shamisen. Instead, the music is tied to the action of the play, but it is also somewhat free because it is not following a melodic theme. The pitch is important here. There is a range of pitches that is felt to be a comfort zone, and playing notes above or below this range expresses that the situation is more troublesome (Music).
The most important historical figures of bunraku theater are Chikamatsu Monzaemon (1653-1724) and Takemoto Gidayu (1651-1714), a playwright and narrator/composer, respectively. Chikamatsu Monzaemon was a famous playwright, even in his day. The skill of Monzaemon is often compared to that of Shakespeare. Monzaemon first wrote Kabuki plays, and he later used the same plays for bunraku theater. However, he also wrote new plays for bunraku theater, enjoying the increased freedom with puppets rather than people ("Japanese"). Takemoto Chikugo-no-Jo, who later changed his name to Takemoto Gidayu, was also a master of his trade, making popular the style of Gidayū-bushi. He took what he liked from the singers and narrators of his time in order to make his new style, and it was so popular that all previous styles of jōruri became known as "ko [old] jōruri" ("Japanese").
Each musical style mentioned here has its own rich history, and the history of music becomes much more involved as it is affected by the Meiji Revolution, when the government would try to make Japan more Western. There are more styles of modern Japanese music, as well. However, with just this short history, further research on modern Japanese music is much more accessible, and Japanese culture feels more familiar. Just this much about Japanese music would help an average American to begin to rise above the confines of standard Western musical styles.
Works Cited
Emmert, Richard. "Noh Preview: Kakegoe Drum Calls." Mainichi Daily News 22 Apr. 1986. 21 Feb. 2006
Faiola, Anthony. "Japan's Empire of Cool." The Washington Post 27 Dec. 2003. 3 Apr. 2006
Fisher, Paul. “The Music of Japan.” Far Side Music. Jan. 2005. 18 Feb. 2006
Fujie, Linda. "Popular Music." Handbook of Japanese Popular Culture. Ed. Richard G. Powers and Hidetoshi Kato. New York: Greenwood P, 1989. 197-220.
Galliano, Luciana. Yōgaku : Japanese Music in the Twentieth Century. Trans. Martin Mayes. Lanham: Scarecrow P, 2002.
"Interview: Blowing Meditation." Nyogetsu. 20 Mar. 2006 http://www.nygogetsu.com/blowingmeditation.htm.
“Japanese Traditional Music.” 2002. Columbia Music Entertainment. 20 Feb. 2006 http://jtrad.columbia.jp/.
Malm, William P. Nagauta : the Heart of Kabuki Music. Tokyo: Tuttle Co, 1963.
Music of Bunraku. Dirs. Eugene Enrico and Dave Smeal. Videocassette. Early Music Television, 1991.
Sukiyaki and Chips : the Japanese Sounds of Music. Dir. Jeremy Marre. Videocassette. Shanachie Entertainment, 1994.
"What is Noh & Kyogen." Noh & Kyogen : An Introduction to Noh & Kyogen. 2004. Japan Arts Council. 28 Feb. 2006 http://www2.ntj.jac.go.jp/unesco/noh/en/nohgaku.html.
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Poetry 2006-2007
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Progress Reset
By Craig Bradney
Moving forward,
Never looking back.
Making strides,
And improving one’s self.
Coming from darkness,
Into the light.
Tearing down those built up walls,
Baring your soul.
Meeting someone,
Caring for them.
Feelings abound,
Love blossoms.
Plans are made,
Dreams are laid down.
Futures planned,
First steps taken.
Information is found out,
Details revealed.
Lies discovered,
Hurt begins.
Reasons sought,
Never any found.
Friends’ support,
Truth undiscovered.
Progress once had,
Return to beginning.
Work lost,
Progress reset.
Dreams of The Day
By Craig Bradney
When the sun rises,
And the day begins.
One’s hope stretches,
Out to embrace the day.
Within the time,
That the day consists of.
One does think,
Of what could have been.
Once that thought,
Embeds itself in your mind.
You begin to dream,
And truly shape what you wish could be.
As the day goes on,
That dream becomes more real.
And the reality of what truly is,
Diverges from the ideal.
As the divergence becomes more great,
Your heart begins to realize that fact.
Your dream fades,
As does the light of day.
When you finally release the tension of the day,
As you prepare to sleep.
You lay your head and pray,
That you will have good dreams.
As you slumber,
You surrender yourself to the full power of your mind.
And with that power,
Come the Terrors of The Night.
Terrors of The Night
By Craig Bradney
Now I lay me down to sleep,
How many times have we heard these words?
I pray the Lord my soul to keep,
If only those words were true.
When we sleep at night,
We hope to be at peace.
When we close our eyes,
We wish to have sweet dreams.
But for some of us,
This is not to be.
When we close our eyes,
All we dream of is darkness.
We awake in cold sweats,
Barely escaping from an unseen demon.
Not recognizing our surrounding,
With our heart thudding in our chests.
As this happens night after night,
We approach our limit of endurance.
We long for a peaceful rest,
At last to escape the terror of the night.
Candids of a Best Friend
By Emily Drayer
Photos spread over the floor
reenacting the last year--
from weddings to family funerals,
Saturday boredom to a planned weekend away;
the sun faded a majority of those best friend moments.
I pick them up, one by one
remembering why each was taken.
These old candids are all that is left,
of a time when smiles came
as quickly as the tears now form.
You never came back,
like you said you always would.
Moving can be tough--
It’s worse for the one left behind.
Mary had a Little Lamb
By Sierra Eidet
Mary had a little lamb
Its fleece as black as coal
And everywhere that Mary went
The lamb was sure to follow
Until one day
Mary went to town
To buy herself
An evening gown
The lamb followed
Unaware of his fate
For this would be
His last trip through town
Across the street Mary went
Followed by the lamb
Across the street Mary went
To the butchers is where she’d go
Back at home
She found her dinnerware
And put on her evening gown
Lifting the top
To the oversized platter
She put a piece of meat
Onto her flowered plate
Mary had a little lamb
For dinner
Modern Times
By Kristin Gilbertson
There are
those of us
with the intellegence
and foresight
to see
the world
is unraveling itself
greed
has taken over
and no one cares
anymore
so we
escape
any way we can
tortured
by our thoughts
and fearful
for what
our children
will face
tormented
we move on
discouraged
at the thought
of what's
to come.
Ode to a Donut
By Nicole McDonald
To the donut I did not eat
I would like to say,
I’m sorry.
Your brothers and sisters
did their job well.
The growling beast inside is sated.
Though that does leave
The Issue
of the one, last victim:
you.
What to do, what to do?
I would not eat you just now
for fear of angering the beast within,
so stay in the box,
sit in your box,
and we shall wait for my whim.
The beast will growl again someday
and, little lonely donut,
you’ll br needed.
Your time will come
when your purpose will be fulfilled
and the monster will be greeted.
So, for now
sit and wait
in your box
for your fate.
Age
By Elizabeth Weidenbach
My grandfather’s face is old and wise.
His expression, stern.
Rarely does he smile
Rarely does he laugh.
His face is aged with spots;
Skin, loose and wrinkled.
Stubble grows from his chin and nose
Fine gray hairs can be seen in his ears.
My grandfather’s body is old and strong
His arms still defined.
Never does he rest
Never is he handicapped.
His hearing is helped with plastic;
Eyes, with thick lenses.
Metal hold his knees and
Pills run his heart.
My grandfather is old and wise
He has taught his family many things.
My grandfather is old
But age has hurt him not.
Art Museum
By Elizabeth Weidenback
Life is an art museum
Open nine to five
Oieces put on display
Parts loved more than others
Mona Lisa smiles
And beautiful Starry Nights
For curious eyes to see.
But, underneath the floors
The vaults, the places no one goes
And behind closed doors
And under sheets
Is what the public faces will never know.
And still yet
The open doors will close
Shut tight at five
The publis and private blend.
The life.
The art museum.
Starting Is....
By So-Young Yang
Looks clear without any problems, though
inside, there are storm to roar; it's gathering
all black clouds and then finally get ready to
appear; hotter, windier, cloudier; it will be raining.
Before something start, we all struggle with and
think many times to do the right things and never
disappoint or make mistakes;
however, when we are worried about making mistakes
too much, then, it makes us not even start
Once we get into it, we can do it done well,
although it's a big stone to be lifted up to the sky.
Not just starting, but should keep going until it's done.
That's the reason why people say it is difficult to start
Starting is not easy all the time, but it has the key to open
the door that you can choose for your future.
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2006-2007
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Stanton, Dan - History of Japanese Music
Photographs
Eidet, Sierra - Mary had a Little Lamb
Gilberson, Kristin - Modern Times
McDonald, Nicole - Ode to a Donut
Weidenback, Elizabeth - Age - Art Museum
So-Young Yang - Starting Is...
Short Stories
Hewlett, Albie - Rock N' Roll Hall of Fame Induction of the Abysmal V.I.P.S.
Weidenback, Elizabeth - Relations and Relationships
Website Compilation
Editor: James Ingram
Web Designer: Dan Stanton
Original Web-site: http://www3.northern.edu/northernlights/index.html
