EUROPEAN SHAKUHACHI SOCIETY Newsletter: Issue 6

October 2007

Well, the 2nd ESS Summer School was a roaring success, and we have a wonderful article telling us all about from Adrian Bain. Veronique Piron and Jim Franklin have also written an article about the Summer School, from an organiser’s perspective, which we have decided to provide separately from the main newsletter, due to its length. This will be available very soon at www.shakuhachisociety.eu for you to download into the language of your choice (English, French or German).

We have some fabulous and varied articles in this issue, which really demonstrate how interest in the shakuhachi is growing in Europe. Adrian has, very kindly, also written about the Summer School in Prague, and about his recent travels to Japan (for which his wife has provided a translation into Japanese which will also appear separately on the ESS website very soon, along with a Japanese translation of his article on the Colmar Summer School); Alfred Lerch has written about a shakuhachi-making workshop held at a Zen monastery in Germany; Clive Bell has given us a review of a re-release of Yamaguchi’s ‘A Bell Ringing in the Empty Sky’. It is truly a bumper issue!

I hope everyone enjoys reading this newsletter - please send feedback (of any kind!) to me at [email protected]. And also, please send any articles, photos, clippings, CD/book/concert reviews, etc, etc, for the next issue (Issue 7, January 2008) to me at the same address. Please send by end of November at the latest to allow time for translations to be done. (Unless, of course, you are able to do the translations yourself which would be marvelous!).

Happy reading!

Stephanie

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Index

Pages 3-9 ESS Summer School 2007 by Adrian Bain

Pages 10-12 CD Review – Re-release of Yamaguchi’s ‘A Bell Ringing in the Empty Sky’ by Clive Bell

Pages 13-28 A Shakuhachi Adventure in Japan by Adrian Bain

Pages 29-34 Zazen and Shakuhachi Making by Alfred Lerch

Pages 34-35 Tribute to YOKOYAKA Katsuya’s mother

Pages 35-40 Prague Summer School 2007 by Adrian Bain

2 E.S.S. Summer School 2007 by Adrian Bain

On my way from England, waiting for my sixth train of the day at the French station of Colmar, a stranger came towards me and asked me in a wonderful French accent “Shaku’achi?”. I was taken by surprise. “Pardon?”, I asked nervously. “Shaku’achi?”, he repeated. “Er…yes…how did you know?”. He pointed to a 2.5 ji-nashi behind me, sticking out of the top of my rucksack. Oh! Oh, yes - a bit of a clue! “Me too!”, he said. One became two and Rémi of Brittany and I continued together on the last leg of our journey to the 2007 European Shakuhachi Society Summer School.

We had arrived quite early at the Grand Hotel in Munster and over the afternoon and evening observed the arrival of Shakuhachi players from all over Europe and Japan. This influx was later observed from the comfort of the hotel bar. I noticed that it is possible to recognise a Shakuhachi Furuya & Watanabe Photo by Adrian Bain player when they walk into a room, even without their instrument. There was a jovial atmosphere in the bar as more and more people arrived throughout the evening, some knew each other, many new acquaintances. I have never seen so many Shakuhachi players!

We were distributed between rooms in the hotel and surrounding cabins; many crept quietly into their new lodgings in the dark, once the bar had closed, with no idea as to who the other occupants were. At breakfast, I was talking to a new acquaintance for half an hour and then realised we had unknowingly slept in the same cabin overnight. Except that he hadn’t actually slept much due to the multi-lingual snoring of the four other strangers in the room. He was already arranging to change rooms! Furuya Photo by Annelies Nederbragt It is thanks to Jim Franklin and Veronique Piron that we were there at all. Only days before they were informed that the place we were to be staying and playing at, the Maison du Kleebach, had not completed its renovations and resembled a building site. We could still hold our classes there, but no accommodation would be available. How do you find accommodation for around 60 people, in

3 only days, near to where we would hold the classes, with transport available and food provided? But Jim and Veronique did it! The Grand Hotel would accommodate and feed everybody.

A pattern formed throughout the week. A problem (not of our making) would arise, Jim and Veronique would rush around, find a solution and, with “clink, clink” on a glass at mealtime to attract everyone’s attention, Jim would announce the latest plans. I cannot imagine Jim or Veronique enjoyed the week as much as everyone else did. Thanks to them, we could.

Every morning a caravan of cars would leave the Grand Hotel (I don’t think anyone was ever left behind); it streamed to the Maison du Kleebach, a beautiful mountain retreat (cum building site). Once the renovation works have been completed, it will be a Trying to quieten the alarm! superb venue for musical Photo by Adrian Bain residents. While we were there, however, rain made it precarious walking through the building site mud, navigating between diggers and huge mounds of earth. The building works also introduced a spate of power cuts and fire alarm cacophony to accompany our playing.

We commenced each day with robuki. Rooooo. It was difficult to hear which sound was mine and soon realised I must just blow and have confidence in my sound. Over the week, I started to become aware of my sound in a different way, to sense the quality of my Ro without necessarily being able to hear my own Ro from the many.

After each day’s robuki, we would study a piece to be played at the student’s concert, a simplified arrangement by Jim Franklin of “Yamato Chôshi”. The piece introduced me to some new and interesting techniques and enabled Jim to introduce some subtleties to us (which might take me Robuki Photo by Veronique Piron

4 another five years to utilise!).

We would then split into (usually) three sessions, offering classes for different abilities with a rotation of teachers, offering a mixture of styles and approaches to teaching. Often, I wanted to attend more than one class simultaneously! Sometimes the planned class would stop on one point: maybe twenty minutes on meri or kan or correct breathing. I would try and scribble notes in an attempt to record the gems of knowledge being cast to the students so freely. I would film the teacher playing the piece we were studying. I still feel regret at leaving my camera battery charging in my room and realising too late as Kakizakai played a stunning “Yamagoe” to us.

It is impossible to describe how the teachers helped me and inspired my study. Even though seeing and hearing the teachers (and students) made me realise the horizon was much further away from me and that my Shakuhachi journey didn’t have an end, it did not deter me, but made my resolve stronger. I should not think of the journey, just of each moment when I practice.

So, all I can do (and I hope they will forgive me) is to give a short impression of each teacher.

Kariya Sozan-san The teaching of Furuya Teruo-san was full of Photo by Alain Natalis kind, enthusiastic energy. He was always genial and with a contagious smile.

Kakizakai Kaoru-san’s teaching was an inspiration, seemingly knowing the solution to a student’s problem before they had finished asking the question.

Kariya Sozan-san showed amazing skills and dexterity. He was always the most smartly dressed, no matter what the occasion!

Jim Franklin’s teaching was full of energy and clarity. Even with the concerns arising from the summer school, once he was teaching, his focus was total. I’ve forgotten what was Veronique Pirons’s teaching was especially being demonstrated! helpful in a class where students could ask any Photo by Adrian Bain

5 questions about areas that were troubling them (predictably one topic we all agreed on was achieving kan notes). Veronique helped us with foundation skills, demonstrating how to overcome common difficulties.

Throughout the week, Watanabe Haruko san (Koto) and Oonishi Mizuka san (Koto and Shamisen) accompanied the teachers and students. Many, including myself, found it very special to have an opportunity to play with Koto and Shamisen, especially with such esteemed players. They both gave immeasurable Kakizakai Photo by Adrian Bain help and constant encouragement.

Philip Horan, from Ireland, gave a hugely popular lesson on Shakuhachi and Irish music, playing beautifully on both Shakuhachi and a Shakalute (an attachment to a western flute that allows it to be played vertically, like a Shakuhachi, but utilising the western flute’s keys).

Daniel Lifermann has a wonderful sound and skill; his calmness and lectures about breathing and spirituality were a valuable contribution to the summer school. Rooooooo… Photo by Alain Natalis Along with Kees Kort’s zest for life blowing through his Shakuhachi and the elegant playing of Jean Francois Lagrost, everyone was exposed to hundreds of years of combined Shakuhachi study being expressed in individual ways. There were so many beautiful players to listen and to learn from. It’s interesting to note how unique everyone’s style and tone was. Many players, many styles; each person gave freely of a knowledge that has taken time and determination to acquire.

With such a mix of nationalities, the conversation gravitated towards English, with many people assisting with translations when required. There must have been many language translation combinations between English, Students’ Concert Photo by Alain Natalis French, Dutch, German, Czech, Japanese probably more.

6 At lunchtimes, the trail of cars would drive down the mountains, back the Grand hotel for a large lunch, which unfortunately had a soporific effect for the early afternoon sessions.

After each afternoon session, we would again return to the Grand Hotel for a practice (or snooze) prior to a large dinner. Each night after dinner, we would attend a concert.

The first concert was an open mike session in the Grand Hotel, Furuya-san and Kakizakai-san when anyone could entertain Photo by Adrian Bain with a piece of their choice. People of all abilities and experience played, with different length Shakuhachi, with violin, by score, by improvisation, traditional and modern. Even though I have little experience, I decided to play “Tamuke”. It is a difficult piece and one I had only been studying for a few weeks, so I knew it would be a flawed performance, but I enjoyed the challenge of playing in front of so many people, especially such prestigious players. My legs were shaking and my knees knocked together, but I do know that giving a live performance is a lesson in itself.

There was very little time to practice or review what we had studied during the day. As a result, there were nightly echoes of Shakuhachi, often beyond midnight. The normal residents of the Grand Hotel were not very happy and a curfew on playing at night had to be imposed.

It was sometimes difficult with the damp weather to practice outside, but there were early morning calls to rise from Shakuhachi amongst the trees in nearby park. Walking through the park, a careful observer would have been able to spot players lurking behind trees and bushes blowing to the leaves. Students’ Concert Photo by Adrian Bain There were others who chose to perform Tai Chi in preparation for another busy day.

The next evening’s concert was given by the teachers in the Town Hall, in preparation for their public concert the following evening. It was my first time to hear most of the teachers play continuously as a player, not as a teacher having to stop to teach us some important point about a

7 piece. It was a special treat to hear Furuya play “Tsuru no Sugomori” (“The Nesting of the Cranes”) as Munster is famed for its cranes and we had all seen them on the roofs around.

The teachers’ Concert was held in the impressive church in Munster (with nesting cranes on the roof). The church was full of locals, most of whom I doubt knew what to expect. I expect that every one of them would have been astounded by the elegant traditional Koto Photo by Adrian Bain costumes, the grace of the performers and the emotion and passion of their music. “Shika no Tône” was breathtaking, as the first lines echoed from opposite sides of the church, apparently from nowhere, with the audience looking around to see where the sound was coming from. A beautiful piece written by Jim Franklin, “Takeshin 5.1”, combined the power of the church organ (played by Jim) and five shakuhachi. It made my hairs stand up on my neck; it was extremely moving. The entire evening was extremely special and I am sure the audience will never forget it.

Learning is always tiring and as the end of the summer school approached and with the arrival of some sunshine, the tempo noticeably slowed. The afternoon before the final concert was perfect for relaxing: Students’ Concert Photo by Alain Natalis some were practicing, some were sleeping in the sun, while others were chatting in groups.

The final concert was given by the students in the Town Hall. The students performed pieces they had studied in the various groups throughout the week. There was a mixture of improvisational, contemporary and traditional pieces. For some students it was their first ever live performance.

Afterwards, we all retired to a small bar for a well-earned drink and a last chat amongst new friends before each of our departures homeward in the morning. After all the hard work and stress experienced by Jim and Veronique, one of life’s true injustices occurred – by the time Jim arrived at the bar it had stopped serving and Jim couldn’t even enjoy a well-deserved drink with us at the end of a difficult week.

8 The E.S.S. AGM was held during the summer school and it showed that there is a lot of activity going on in establishing the E.S.S. as a valuable society for us all. The E.S.S. is young and it will undoubtedly grow strongly. The next summer school, wherever it will be hosted, will be even better as we learn from each other.

It’s fascinating to see the range of ages and professions that attended the summer school; a mix that might not normally meet if it were not for a shared interest in the Shakuhachi.

There is so much - too much - to remember and it slips away so quickly. What will I remember the most? I can answer unhesitatingly - the people. The Shakuhachi is an instrument of friendship.

Happy Blowing, Adrian Bain

P.S. Well in a few weeks, I’m lucky to be going to the Prague Shakuhachi Summer School 2007 in the Czech Republic. I can’t believe my good fortune and the patience of my wife! I will let you know how I get on.

Footnotes There are many photos and small video clips of the summer school. As I opted for quantity over quality, the video clips are not high quality visually, but the sound is good. They capture some of the lessons (useful for study) and excerpts from the concerts. There are over 4GB of files so far, so distribution is an issue.

The new E.S.S. website is under development. It may be that we can put the photos and video files on the site so that people can choose what they want. Until the new site is ready, the E.S.S. website continues to show the 2007 Summer School information. However, please check the Events section of the site as new events are being published there.

The European Shakuhachi Society Summer School 2007 Photo by “An innocent bystander”

9 GORO YAMAGUCHI SHAKUHACHI MUSIC: A BELL RINGING IN THE EMPTY SKY NONESUCH EXPLORER CD BY CLIVE BELL

Goro Yamaguchi (1933-99) studied the shakuhachi with his father, Shiro Yamaguchi, during the second world war, and quickly rose to recognition as a leading player. In 1967 he taught for a year at Wesleyan University in Connecticut, and while in the US recorded two honkyoku pieces in New York: “Sokaku-Reibo” and “Koku-Reibo”. In 1969 these appeared on an LP in the Nonesuch Explorer Series, titled A Bell Ringing In The Empty Sky (the title taken from a colourful pseudo- translation of “Koku-Reibo”). Now Nonesuch have reissued the album on CD as part of their gradual re-release of the whole Explorer Series. The two tracks remain the same; the sleeve notes are unedited, though a bio of Yamaguchi has been added; but the wonderful monochrome psychedelia of the LP sleeve, in which a crane appears to fly through a geisha’s hair-do, has been replaced by a 1961 photo of a tiny fishing boat on the Inland Sea.

It’s probably hard to overstate the impact of Yamaguchi’s original LP in the West. One has to think back to a benighted generation when not only had no one ever heard a shakuhachi, but the idea that Japanese music might have depth to it, that it might have a rigour that could stand alongside European classical performance, was thrillingly new and taboo-busting. Inviting Yamaguchi to teach at Wesleyan was a pioneering move, and A Bell Ringing was the first widely available recording of a completely new music. It took its place alongside Ravi Shankar, Stockhausen and Hawkwind on the shelves of discerning record buyers, and aspiring music-makers and composers marvelled at its qualities. By 1977 a portion of the recording was included on a compilation of “Earth Music” aboard the Voyager II spacecraft. Having conquered hip record stores, Yamaguchi was off to new galaxies.

How does Yamaguchi’s record stand up now, forty years on? The first thing you notice is the overall length: at under thirty minutes, this is what we would now term an EP. Nonesuch clearly had no extra material in the vaults to flesh out the CD version. Having said that, Yamaguchi’s versions of these classic pieces are unusually long: “Sokaku” at thirteen minutes and “Koku” at fifteen represent extended explorations. The sleevenotes, despite being written by respected ethnomusicologist and broadcaster Fumio Koizumi, are misleading and, when it comes to scales, hilariously inaccurate. However there is an honourable tradition of album notes getting these things wrong, and if a sleevenote writer starts talking about scales it’s almost guaranteed that what follows will be nonsense.

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Yamaguchi performs both pieces on a 1.8 shakuhachi. His playing always has poise; it is elegant and cool to the point of chilliness. “Sokaku” (Depicting The Cranes In Their Nest) is largely static, in that Yamaguchi stays in one small pitch area for a long time, but highly ornamented – a picture of young cranes bickering at home and not taking flight. After ten minutes the piece calms down and moves to the lower octave. “Koku” spends more time in this lower octave and is generally slower and more meditative. It’s also a warmer, more human performance, and Yamaguchi’s playing features some lovely, subtle dynamics.

Even at the date of its first release, a Western listener might have judged that Yamaguchi’s shakuhachi style was not the only game in town. In 1967 the New York label Lyrichord issued Japanese Masterpieces For The Shakuhachi, an LP of five pieces from anonymous monks at Kyoto temples (this is also available on CD). At the time this may have seemed an inferior record: the performances are rough and unsophisticated, the sleevenotes dodgy as ever (Fuke monks are termed “tootling preachers”), and the vinyl pressing of poor quality. Now things look a little different. Yamaguchi represents a shiny new breed of player, both refining and formalising the old techniques so that the instrument is ready to don bow tie and tails, as it were, and enter the Western concert hall. Lyrichord’s unnamed tootlers, on the other hand, are playing on their home ground. The two monks playing “Koku” are inside the Meianji temple, and their temple bell is incorporated into the track. This music has some function in their daily life, and plenty of meaning as an activity: not a show for an audience but a spiritual exercise. Whereas Yamaguchi’s music floats free in an empty sky, divorced from context. What is it for? It’s for consumption, live or on record, by the new audience, according to Western models of art music.

The effect of Yamaguchi’s record on his Western listeners is one thing, but what about its effect on Japan? By 1969 Japan had invested pretty much a century in a massive adoption of Western culture and technology. Beginning with the import of brass bands, new musical ideas had taken root: the importance of playing in tune; formalised and fixed versions of pieces; large groupings of instruments, or orchestras; and concert halls where the audience politely listens in silence. Any of these notions would have astonished our old friend, the tootling Komuso player beneath his basket hat. But by the 1960s Japanese performers of European classical music were receiving international acclaim, Toru Takemitsu was on the point of acceptance as a world class composer, and the figure of the globetrotting concert hall soloist was completely familiar to Japanese audiences. Yamaguchi’s performance, highly polished and beautifully recorded, slots into place as an early step in

11 Japan’s resumption of confidence in its own traditional culture. The Tokyo Olympics were in 1964; around 1976 my own teacher, Kohachiro Miyata, went onstage solo at the Carnegie Hall.

There’s no question that Yamaguchi was one among a generation of marvellous shakuhachi performers, and it’s fascinating to see how they differ from one another. Another version of “Koku”, played by Katsuya Yokoyama, is on the excellent The Art Of The Shakuhachi on Ocora. One year younger than Yamaguchi, Yokoyama was 63 when he made this record. He continued studying with the Zen master Watazumi until the latter’s death; this must have kept Yokoyama in touch with the down to earth Fuke monk tradition, and its concerns with matters other than music. Yokoyama retains an unpredictable exuberance in his playing. His crane piece (“Tsuru No Sugomori”) attacks the famous passages of flutter tonguing and tremolos with an animated, improvisational attitude. Thirty years earlier, Yamaguchi sounds correct and formal, a musician on his best behaviour, as if slightly in awe of the future status of his recording.

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“When you hear some music or hear a sound if, for some reason, you like it very well the reason is because that sound is in balance, or in harmony, with your pulse. And so, when making a sound yourself, you try to imitate the various different sounds of the universe; but what you are finally making is your own sound - the sound of yourself.” WATAZUMI

12 A Shakuhachi Adventure in Japan by Adrian Bain

I haven’t been playing the Shakuhachi for very long; only since last August. At certain times I have stopped and wondered how on earth it all started. One of those occasions was this June, as I sat in front of Okuda Atsuya in Zensabo, his teaching studio in Kokubunji, Tokyo. Okuda sensei was half-way through Tamuke, playing on a large jinashi nobe Shakuhachi. I was shocked at the beauty and melancholy of his playing and near to tears, as I asked myself what unlikely set of events had brought me here.

My Shakuhachi journey started when my wife, who is Japanese, bought me CD of a Japanese band called Kotoza. Shakuhachi is played on some the tracks and it moved me. I asked her what instrument it was and she explained what little she knew of the instrument. Generally speaking, many Japanese people can be quite unaware of the heritage of their music and instruments, a

Okuda Atsuya Photo by Adrian Bain point made in Christopher Blasdel’s book “The Single Tone”.

I bought myself a few Shakuhachi CDs and the sound started to bother me. Something was stirring inside me. A few months later, during a boring afternoon, I started to look around on the Internet at Shakuhachi, to learn a little about the instrument that was subtly affecting me. I wasn’t aware of any intention beyond curiosity. When my wife returned from a shopping trip, I announced that I had just ordered a Shakuhachi on the Internet. I was as surprised as she was. An odd, but important moment for me.

A week later, it arrived with instruction book and CD. Not knowing enough about the Shakuhachi, I played safe and had ordered a Shakuhachi Yuu, moulded from resin, and now I sat down with it and a book of meaningless scores – and a mountain to climb.

All of you will be familiar with the search for the first note, the white knuckles through squeezing too hard, the difficultly in concentrating on the Kiku Day breath while moving the fingers, the elusive kan Photo by Andrea Day

13 notes, and the strange notation. Months of frustration rewarded by scant moments of satisfaction at a small indication of progress. I was once pleased when I saw my wife swaying to the music while I played – until I realised she had earphones in and was listening to other music to block out my sounds that were reminiscent of the squeal of piglets! I needed a teacher.

A difficulty for me was in finding a teacher. I live as far east in Kent as you can get, a hundred yards or so from the very edge of England. London is two hours away by train, but it was there that I must go. I had located Kiku Day on the Internet and she kindly agreed to teach me. I cannot express how much help and insight Kiku provided in each lesson.

Then, after only two valuable lessons, another potential problem loomed. I had to move temporarily to Sheffield in the North of England, Bamboo in Kamakura for 7 months for work, which would have Photo by Adrian Bain interrupted my lessons with Kiku Day. The strange and remarkable twists in life were apparent when Kiku told me that periodically she would be travelling to Sheffield to teach. What luck! There are indeed unexpected and wonderful patterns in the tapestry of life.

And so, during my time in the North I managed another couple of lessons with Kiku and I practiced in solitary hotel rooms, aware that the sound must have perplexed other guests as it drifted down the barren corridors.

A few Shakuhachi Yuu have been enhanced by Monty Levenson. He improved and lacquered the bore, and added a brass and rattan joint for added strength (and it looks nicer). I got one for Christmas. The enhanced Yuu has a much fuller sound and improved tuning.

This June, after the seven months away from home, my wife and I were immediately off to Japan for a couple of weeks. I intended to make the most of my trip, centred on the Shakuhachi. It transpired that my wife’s family, hearing that I was learning the Shakuhachi, also had a few trips planned for me.

The day after arriving, they drove me to a town in the mountains called Oimachi Kaneko to meet a Shakuhachi maker and player, Taizan Ohashi. He was generous with his time and knowledge, talking, advising and playing for me over green tea. My Japanese family were translating

14 and unexpectedly found themselves enjoying learning about the shakuhachi.

Later the same day, I was taken to an interesting second-hand shop right outside Hakuraku station near Yokohama. Specialising in Shakuhachi, the owner, Ishida Akio, gave his time freely, discussing the Shakuhachi and playing beautifully. He showed me many fine Shakuhachi of varying ages and styles, some of which I tried. This was the first time I had played real bamboo Shakuhachi!

Next on the itinerary was a trip to Kamakura, with its many temples, shrines and historical monuments. The Great Buddha is a bronze statue of Amida Buddha, standing over 13 metres tall. Cast in 1252, it is the second largest Buddha statue in Japan; the largest is located in the Todaiji temple in Nara. The Great Buddha Photo by Adrian Bain Originally the statue was inside a temple, but is now in the open air as the temple was washed away by a tsunami tidal wave at the end of the 15th century. I found a quiet place amongst some trees near the Great Buddha and played Hi Fu Mi Cho.

The next excursion I was looking forward to, albeit nervously, was to Sojiji in Tsurumi, the headquarters of Soto Zen Buddhism. In 2003, when my dad died I had spent an entire day in the grounds of Sojiji, wandering around, thinking and feeling, and it gave me solace. Little did I know then that a few Playing to the Great Buddha Photo by Mariko Mori years later I would be inside the temple itself for a day of Zazen instruction with the monks. The teachings were in Japanese, which stretched my limited language skills, but with the help of a kind Japanese lady, I managed to get through the day. There were times of panic, though, when my legs seemed to be made of stone and my fidgeting resulted in a “Please focus” whack with a stick by the monks.

15 In the grounds of Sojiji is the great bell, hidden in the trees above the temple grounds. The bell weighs nearly 19 tons, has a height of nearly three and a half metres and a diameter of nearly two metres, and is said to have been cast on this spot in 1913. Every minute, the monk stands and using a rope attached to a huge log, strikes the bell. The deep, rich sound can be heard for miles around.

I sat in the woods near the bell and played Shakuhachi for half an hour or so until, with the lowering of the sun, the insects started to feast on me. I left Sojiji happy and relaxed.

I recommend a trip to Sojiji; it’s one I will certainly repeat on my next visit to Japan. A trip to Kyoto followed, staying in a ryokan, a traditional inn, dining on local specialities, presented as works The Bell at Sojiji Photo by Adrian Bain of art. I had wanted to play in Kinkakuji, the beautiful Golden Pavilion, but it seemed like there were a million children present, on school trips. I later played Shakuhachi before the Japanese garden in the ryokan. I was starting to become aware of the surprised expressions when I played the Shakuhachi in Japan.

A few days later, I had a fascinating stroll around the famous Tsukiji fish market in Tokyo, seeing (and smelling) the sort of scary creatures normally seen on nature programmes. Nearby, I ate the freshest of Sushi and Sashimi, straight from the sea Monks at Sojiji Photo by Adrian Bain that day, via the market. When lunch had settled, for the first time I played Shakuhachi to my wife’s family. I am pleased to say that they were surprised at such a sound from an Englishman.

16 I was hoping to meet with Kiku Day, as she is currently in Osaka working on a project for the university, but our schedules and distance prevented it. However, before leaving England, Kiku helped me to arrange two lessons with Okuda sensei. The first lesson takes us back to the start of this article, with Okuda movingly playing Tamuke. This was to be the piece he would teach me first.

It was at this time that I had the feeling of disbelief. It was less than a year since I surprised myself by ordering a Shakuhachi and now I was before Okuda, feeling very emotional, having my two-week Shakuhachi adventure in Japan, playing in beautiful places, spiritual places, meeting many Shakuhachi players and makers.

A Yakuza Cat Guarding Sojiji Okuda is a most charming and Photo by Adrian Bain interesting man. A successful jazz trumpet player, he turned all of his time and study to the Shakuhachi, specifically the jinashi (un-lacquered and without the use of Ji paste to finely tune a bore). His unique style is called zensabo. Okuda helped me greatly, correcting bad habits I had acquired while practicing on my own, offering solutions to problems I had, and teaching in a relaxed, enjoyable manner.

I spent a fruitful two hours with this soulful player, working through the score for Tamuke and having fascinating conversations. I was desperate to absorb everything I could, scribbling notes, taking photos and even camera movies of techniques and whole songs for study later. After two hours I walked out ecstatic and exhausted at the same time.

Throughout my time in Japan, I practiced when I could, often being chastised by my wife for disturbing other hotel residents late at night. I would be ordered to stop playing. “Urusai!” – too loud. She doesn’t know, but I would start again while she was in the shower. Every minute of practice counts. Of course, with the Shakuhachi Yuu being made of resin, I could play in the shower, I suppose!

My second lesson with Okuda, two days after the first, was just as insightful and exhausting. As my time with Okuda was limited, he suggested we cram as much as possible in and we started to study Koku, a piece that Okuda said contained a great many important techniques and should be studied diligently. I am finding it very difficult and challenging.

17 Okuda said he had a 2.5 jinashi nobe (one-piece) that he had harvested in November in Nagano ken and that he thought would suit me. I tried it – it was huge and difficult for my short, sausage-like fingers. Yet the sound was so mellow. I happily accepted the wonderful instrument. I think I must have looked very strange on the train, smiling away to myself.

Before returning to our hotel in Yokohama, I made a planned diversion to a famous Shakuhachi shop in Mejiro. A superb place, full of all-things-Shakuhachi and more. The staff were very knowledgeable and helpful and I came away with a few goodies for my new Shakuhachi.

Now I am home, I am struggling bravely with the 2.5 jinashi and, curiously, when I return to the 1.8, find it difficult to play for a short while. Interesting problems are present all along the Shakuhachi journey. As I conquer one problem, plenty more present themselves. Jinashi Nobe & Enhanced Yuu…and a Guest I expect it’s true to say that the Photo by Adrian Bain Shakuhachi is now a part of my life for the rest of my life. And I’m still not quite sure quite how it happened.

Happy Blowing, Adrian Bain

P.S. Well in two days, I’m off to the European Shakuhachi Summer School 2007 in France. It will be a novel experience for me to meet so many Shakuhachi players, and quite daunting. I will let you know how I get on.

L'aventure d'un shakuhachi au Japon Adrian Bain

Je n’ais pas commencé à jouer du Shakuhachi depuis très longtemps: seulement depuis août de l’année dernière. Par moments je me suis demandé comment tout cela avait bien pu commencer. En juin de cette année, j’étais assis en face d’ Okuda Atsuya dans Zensabo, le studio où il enseigne à Kokubunji, Tokyo. Okuda Sensei était au milieu de la partition de Tamuke, jouant sur un grand jinashi nobe Shakuhachi. J'ai été ému jusqu’aux larmes par la beauté et la mélancolie de son

18 interprétation, en me rappelant l’ensemble d'événements improbables qui m’avaient amenés jusque là.

Mon aventure avec le Shakuhachi a commencé quand mon épouse, qui est japonaise, m'a acheté un CD d’un groupe japonais appelé Kotoza. Ils jouent du Shakuhachi sur certains de leurs morceaux et le son que j’ai entendu m’a transporté. J’ai demandé à mon épouse de quoi il s’agissait et elle m’a expliqué qu’elle savait très peu de choses sur cet instrument. D'une manière générale, beaucoup de japonais peuvent être tout à fait ignorants de leur héritage musical et instrumental, remarque faite par Christopher Blasdel dans son livre « The single Tone ».

Je me suis acheté quelques CD de Shakuhachi et le son de l’instrument a commencé à m’obséder. Quelque chose se mettait en place en moi. Quelques mois plus tard, pendant un après-midi ennuyeux, j'ai commencé à regarder sur Internet à la rubrique Shakuhachi, pour en apprendre plus sur l'instrument qui m'affectait subtilement, sans autre raison que la simple curiosité. Quand mon épouse est rentrée, je lui ai annoncé que je venais juste de commander un Shakuhachi sur Internet. J'en étais aussi étonné qu’elle, notez le bien. Un moment fort important pour moi.

Une semaine plus tard, il est arrivé avec le livre et le CD d'instruction. Ne sachant pas grand chose au sujet du Shakuhachi, j'avais joué sur la sécurité et commandé un Yuu en résine, et étais maintenant avec mon Shakuhachi penché sur un livre couvert de signes inconnus - et devant une montagne à gravir.

Chacun de vous a connu la recherche de la première note, les articulations blanches à force de crispation, la difficulté de se concentrer à la fois sur son souffle et sur le déplacement des ses doigts, les notes kan évasives, et la notation étrange. Mois de frustrations récompensés par quelques brefs moments de satisfaction à chaque petit signe de progrès. Je me réjouissais une fois de voir mon épouse se balancer en rythme tandis que je jouais - jusqu'à ce que je réalise qu'elle avait des écouteurs et écoutait de la musique pour couvrir mes sons qui étaient proches du cri aigu des porcelets ! J'avais besoin d'un professeur.

Une difficulté pour moi était d’en trouver un. Je vis dans le fin fond du Kent et à deux heures de train de Londres, mais c'était pourtant là que j’ai du me rendre. J'avais fait la connaissance de Kiku Day sur Internet et elle a accepté gentiment de m'enseigner. Je ne puis exprimer tout ce que chaque leçon de kiku m’a apporté.

19 Après seulement deux leçons, un autre problème s’est posé à moi, j'ai dû me déplacer temporairement à Sheffield dans le nord de l'Angleterre, pour 7 mois de travail, ce qui aurait normalement interrompu mes leçons avec Kiku Day. Les hasards merveilleux de la vie ont fait que Kiku se rendait périodiquement à Sheffield pour enseigner. Quelle chance !

Et ainsi, pendant mon séjour dans le nord, j'ai pu continuer mes leçons avec Kiku et j'ai pratiqué dans les chambres d'hôtel, conscient du fait que le son qui raisonnait dans les couloirs vides devait avoir perturbé plus d’un autre client. Certains Shakuhachi Yuu ont été améliorés par Monty Levenson. Il en a laqué et retouché l'intérieur, et a ajouté un joint de laiton et de rotin pour en améliorer la solidité (en plus c’et plus joli). J'en ai reçu un à Noël. Le Yuu + a un son beaucoup plus plein et plus juste. Au mois de juin, après sept mois d’absence loin de la maison, mon épouse et moi sommes partis au Japon pour quelques semaines. J'avais l'intention de tirer le meilleur parti de mon voyage, centré sur le Shakuhachi. La famille de mon épouse, apprenant que j'apprenais le Shakuhachi, avait également organisé quelques voyages pour moi.

Le jour après notre arrivée, ils m'ont conduit dans une ville dans les montagnes appelée Oimachi Kaneko pour y rencontrer un fabricant et joueur de Shakuhachi, Taizan Ohashi. Il s’est montré généreux de son temps et de son savoir, parlant, conseillant et jouant pour moi devant un thé vert.

Plus tard dans la même journée, on m’a conduit dans un intéressant magasin de seconde main près de la gare de Hakuraku, dans les enviropnsde de Yokohama. Spécialisé dans le Shakuhachi, le propriétaire, Ishida Akio, m’a accordé librement son temps, discutant de Shakuhachi et jouant admirablement. Il m'a montré beaucoup de Shakuhachi d’époque et de styles variables, j’ai pu en essayer certains. C'était la première fois que je jouais sur un vrai Shakuhachi en bambou !

La prochaine étape était un voyage à Kamakura, avec ses nombreux temples, tombeaux et monuments historiques. Le grand Bouddha est une statue en bronze d'Amida Bouddha, s’élevant à plus de 13 mètres de haut. Erigé en 1252, il est la deuxième plus grande statue de Bouddha au Japon ; le plus grand est situé dans le temple de Todaiji à Nara. À l'origine la statue était à l'intérieur d'un temple, mais est maintenant à l’air libre depuis que le temple a été emporté par une vague de marée de tsunami à la fin du 15ème siècle.

J'ai trouvé un endroit tranquille entre les arbres, près du grand Bouddha et ai joué Hi Fu Mi Cho sur mon Shakuhachi.

20 La prochaine excursion que j'attendais avec intérêt, et quelque nervosité, était à Sǀji-ji dans Tsurumi, le quartier général du Bouddhisme Soto Zen. En 2003, quand mon papa est mort j'avais passé un jour entier à Sǀji-ji, à errer, réfléchir et à me laisser aller à mes sentiments, et cela m’avait apporté de la consolation. Je me doutais bien peu alors que quelques années après je me retrouverais à l'intérieur du temple pour une journèe d’initiation au Zazen donnée par les moines. L’enseignement était en Japonais, ce qui a mis à mal mes capacités linguistiques limitées, mais avec l'aide d'une aimable dame japonaise, je suis parvenu à surmonter la difficulté. Il y a bien eu des périodes de panique, lorsque mes jambes m’ont semblé être faites de Pierre et quand mes mouvements désordonnés ont eu comme conséquence des coups de bâton donnés par les moines, pour me ramener à la concentration.

A Sǀji-ji se trouve la grande cloche, cachée dans les arbres au-dessus du sol du temple. On dit qu’elle pèse près de 19 tonnes, elle mesure presque trois mètres et demi et a un diamètre de presque deux mètres, elle a été moulée à cet endroit en 1913. Chaque minute, un moine se dresse et en tirant une corde reliée à un énorme madrier, frappe la cloche. Le bruit profond peut être entendu à des milles autour du temple.

Je me suis assis dans les bois près de la cloche et ai joué du Shakuhachi pendant une demi-heure et jusqu'à ce que, avec le coucher du soleil, les insectes aient commencé à se régaler de moi. Je suis parti de Sǀji-ji heureux et détendu.

Je recommande à chacun un voyage à Sǀji-ji; lors de ma prochaine visite au Japon, je ne manquerai pas de m’y rendre à nouveau.

Ensuite il y a eu un voyage vers Kyoto, ou j’ai séjourné dans un ryokan, une auberge traditionnelle, j’y ai dégusté des spécialités locales, présentées comme autant d’œuvres d'art. J'ai voulu jouer dans le Kinkaku-ji, le pavillon d'or, mais on aurait dit qu’il était rempli de millions d’enfants, en excursion scolaire. J’ai joué plus tard du Shakuhachi dans le jardin japonais du ryokan, et fus de plus en plus étonné de l’expression des gens lorsque je jouais du Shakuhachi.

Quelques jours plus tard, j'ai eu l’occasion de flâner autour du célèbre et fascinant Tsukiji, marché de poissons de Tokyo, voyant (et sentant) toutes sortes de créatures effrayantes comme on en observe normalement dans les documentaires. Près de là, j'ai pu manger les plus frais des Sushi et Sashimi, en provenance directe de la mer, via le marché. Quand le déjeuner fut terminé, j’ai pu pour la première fois jouer devant la famille de mon

21 épouse. Je suis heureux de dire qu'ils ont été étonnés qu’un Anglais puisse produire de tels sons.

J'espérais rencontrer Kiku Day, étant donné qu’elle se trouvait à ce moment à Osaka en mission pour son université, mais nos programmes et la distance m’en ont empêché. Cependant, avant de quitter l'Angleterre, Kiku m'a aidé à organiser deux leçons avec Okuda Sensei. La première leçon nous rappelle le début de cet article, avec Okuda jouant Tamuke. C'était d'être le morceau qu'il m'enseignerait d'abord. C'est là que j’ai été saisi par un sentiment d’incrédulité, il n’y avait pas un an que j’avais commandé mon Shakuhachi et j’allais rencontrer Okuda, plein d’émotions, après mon périple de deux semaines, jouant dans de beaux endroits, empreints de spiritualité, et rencontrant beaucoup de joueurs et fabricants de Shakuhachi.

Okuda est un homme des plus charmants et très intéressant. Trompettiste de jazz accompli, il a décide de consacrer tout son temps à l’étude du Shakuhachi, spécifiquement du jinashi (non laqué et sans utilisation de pâte de Ji pour accorder finement l’instrument). La seule technique qu’il pratique s'appelle zensabo. Okuda m’a aidé considérablement, corrigeant les mauvaises habitudes j'avais acquises en pratiquant seul, m'apportant des solutions à mes problèmes, et m’enseignant d'une façon détendue et agréable.

J'ai passé deux heures fructueuses avec ce joueur émouvant, travaillant sur la lecture de Tamuke et ayant des conversations fascinantes. J'essayais désespérément d’absorber toutes les informations que je pouvais, prenant des notes, des photos et allant jusqu’à filmer certaines techniques et des morceaux entiers dans le but de pouvoir en poursuivre l’étude par après. Après deux heures j'ai quitté le maître, débordant d’enthousiasme et épuisé en même temps.

Tout au long de mon séjour au Japon, j'ai pratiqué chaque fois que je pouvais, et j’ai souvent été grondé par mon épouse, pour avoir dérangé d'autres clients de l'hôtel jusque tard dans la nuit. Elle me forçait à cesser de jouer - mais (elle ne le sait pas) je recommençais dès qu'elle était sous sa douche. Chaque minute de pratique compte. Naturellement, avec le Shakuhachi Yuu j’aurais pu jouer également dans la douche, je suppose !

Ma deuxième leçon avec Okuda, deux jours plus tard, fut tout aussi profitable et épuisante. Sachant que mon temps avec lui était limité, Okuda m’a suggéré que nous apprenions le plus de choses possibles et nous avons donc commencé à étudier Koku, un morceau qui selon Okuda contenait beaucoup de techniques importantes et devait être

22 étudié sans plus attendre. J’ai trouvé qu’il me posait là un bien grand défi.

Okuda m’a dit qu'il avait un jinashi nobe 2.5 (d'une seule pièce) qu’il avait coupé en novembre dans Nagano ken et qu'il pensait qu’il me conviendrait. Je l'ai essayé, il était énorme et difficile à manier avec mes doigts courts en forme de saucisse mais en même temps le son était si riche. J’ai accepté l'instrument merveilleux avec bonheur. Je pense que je devais avoir un air très étrange sur le train, souriant dans le vague.

Avant le retour à notre hôtel à Yokohama, j'ai fait un détour prévu par un célèbre magasin de Shakuhachi à Mejiro. Un endroit superbe, en plus des Shakuhachi on y trouve de tout. Le personnel était très bien informé et de bon conseil, je suis revenu avec quelques accessoires pour mon nouveau Shakuhachi.

Maintenant je suis de retour à la maison, je lutte toujours bravement avec le jinashi 2.5 et, curieusement, quand je reviens aux 1.8, je trouve qu’il est difficile d’en jouer, enfin, pendant un court moment. Des problèmes intéressants se présentent tout au long du voyage d’initiation au Shakuhachi. Lorsque j’en résous un, d’autres se pressent. Je pressens que le Shakuhachi fait à présent partie de ma vie pour le reste de ma vie. Et je ne suis toujours pas tout à fait sûr de la façon dont tout cela a commencé.

Bon souffle . Adrian Bain

P.S. bien, dans deux jours, je pars en France pour les cours d'été européens de Shakuhachi 2007. Ce sera une expérience nouvelle pour moi de rencontrer tellement de joueurs de Shakuhachi à la fois, et tout à fait intimidante. Je vous ferai savoir la suite.

Ein Shakuhachi – Abenteuer in Japan Adrian Bain

Ich hatte noch gar nicht so lange Shakuhachi gespielt: erst seit letztem August. Immer wieder in bestimmten Momenten habe ich innegehalten und mich gefragt, wie um alles in der Welt das alles angefangen hat. Eine dieser Gelegenheiten war im Juni. Ich saß vor Okuda Atsuya im Zensabo, seinem Unterrichtsraum in Konkubunji, Tokyo. Okuda sensei hatte Tamuke zur Hälfte gespielt, auf einer großen Jinashi Nobe Shakuhachi. Ich war erschüttert von der Schönheit und Melancholie seines Spiels, den Tränen nahe. Ich fragte mich, welch unwahrscheinliche Kette von Ereignissen mich hierher gebracht hatte.

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Meine Shakuhachi – Reise begann, als mir meine Frau – sie ist Japanerin – eine CD der japanischen Band Kotoza kaufte. Einige Nummern sind Shakuhachi – Stücke. Sie bewegten mich. Ich fragte sie, welches Instrument das gewesen sei und sie erklärte mir das wenige, das sie über das Instrument wusste. Im Allgemeinen kennen viele Japaner ihr musikalisches Erbe und ihre Instrumente kaum. Christopher Blasdel weist in seinem Buch “The Single Tone” darauf hin.

Ich kaufte mir einige Shakuhachi CDs und der Klang begann mich zu beschäftigen. Etwas in mir regte sich. An einem langweiligen Nachmittag, einige Monate später, fing ich an im Internet unter Shakuhachi zu stöbern, um etwas über das Instrument zu erfahren, das mich irgendwie anzog. Ich war mir keiner Absicht bewusst, ausser Neugier. Als meine Frau von einem Einkauf zurückkam, kündigte ich ihr an, dass ich gerade im Internet eine Shakuhachi bestellt hätte. Ich war überrascht und sie auch. Ein seltsamer aber wichtiger Augenblick für mich.

Eine Woche später kam sie an, mit Lehrbuch und CD. Ich wusste nicht genug über die Shakuhachi, wollte sicher gehen und hatte eine Shakuhachi Yuu bestellt, aus Kunstharz gegossen. Ich setzte mich hin damit und einem Buch unverständlicher Grifftabellen - und hatte einen Berg zu besteigen.

Jedem von euch wird die Suche nachdem ersten Ton vertraut sein: die weissen Knöchel, weil man zu sehr aufdrückt, die Schwierigkeit sich auf den Atem zu konzentrieren, während man die Finger bewegt, die nicht greifbaren kan Noten und die seltsame Notation. Monatelange Frustration wird belohnt durch seltene Augenblicke der Zufrieden- heit über kleine Anzeichen von Fortschritt. Einmal freute ich mich, als ich meine Frau zu der Musik tanzen sah, während ich spielte – bis ich bemerkte, dass sie Kopfhörer auf hatte. Sie hörte auf andere Musik, um meine Klänge auszuschließen, die an das Quietschen von Schweinchen erinnerten! Ich brauchte einen Lehrer.

Für mich war es schwierig, einen Lehrer zu finden. Ich lebe so weit im Osten Kents, wie nur möglich und hundert Meter oder so entfernt vom äussersten Ende Englands. London liegt zwei Bahnstunden entfernt. Aber gerade dahin musste ich gehen. Ich hatte Kiku Day im Internet ausgemacht und sie war freundlicherweise bereit, mich zu unterrichten. Ich kann gar nicht sagen, wieviel Hilfe und Verstehen mir Kiku in jeder Stunde gab.

Dann zeichnete sich nach nur zwei wertvollen Unterrichtsstunden ein weiteres mögliches Problem ab. Ich musste vorübergehend nach

24 Sheffield im Norden Englands ziehen, um sieben Monate dort zu arbeiten. Das hätte meine Stunden bei Kiku Day unterbrochen. Die seltsamen und ungewöhnlichen Wendungen im Leben zeigten sich, als Kiku mir sagte, sie führe regelmäßig nach Sheffield um zu unterrichten. WelchesGlück! Es gibt wirklich unerwartete, wunderbare Muster im Gewebe des Lebens. Und so schaffte ich es während meiner Zeit im Norden ein paar weitere Stunden mit Kiku zu haben. Ich übte in einsamen Hotelzimmern und war mir bewusst, dass der Klang andere Hotelgäste verblüfft haben musste, wenn er die öden Korridore hinunter wehte.

Einige Shakuhachi Yuu waren von Monty Levenson aufgearbeitet worden. Er verbesserte und lackierte die Bohrlöcher und fügte eine Metall-Rattan Verbindung hinzu für zusätzliche Festigkeit. Und es sieht hübscher aus. Ich bekam eine davon zu Weihnachten. Die überarbeitete Yuu hat einen volleren Klang und verbesserte Intonation.

In diesem Juni fuhren meine Frau und ich, nach den sieben Monaten weg von zuhause, sofort für einige Wochen nach Japan. Ich nahm mir vor, das Beste aus meiner Reise zu machen, aauf die Shakuhachi konzentriert. Es war bis zu mir durchgesickert, dass die Familie meiner Frau auch ein paar Ausflüge für mich geplant hatte, nachdem sie gehört hatten, dass ich lerne Shakuhachi zu spielen.

Am Tag nach unserer Ankunft fuhren sie mich in eine Stadt in den Bergen, Oimachi Kaneko. Dort konnte ich den Shakuhachi-Bauer und - Spieler Taizan Ohashi treffen. Er ging großzügig mit seiner Zeit und seinem Wissen um, sprach, beriet und spielte bei Grünem Tee.

Noch am selben Tag wurde ich später zu einem interessanten Second- hand-shop gebracht. Gleich vor dem Hakuraku Bahnhof in der Nähe von Yokohama. Der Besitzer Ishida Akio hatte sich auf Shakuhachi spezialisiert. Er schenkte mir seine Zeit, sprach über die Shakuhachi und spielte wundervoll. Er zeigte mir viele gute Shakuhachis aus verschiedenen Zeiten und Stilen. Einige davon probierte ich aus. Zum erstenmal hatte ich auf einer richtigen Bambus Shakuhachi gespielt!

Als nächstes stand ein Ausflug nach Kamakura auf dem Reiseplan, mit seinen zahlreichen Tempeln, Schreinen und historischen Monumenten. Der Große Buddha ist eine Bronzestatue von über 13 Meter Höhe. Er entstand 1252 und ist die zweitgrößte Buddha -statue in Japan. Die größte steht im Todaiji Tempel in Nara. Der Great Buddha stand ursprünglich in einem Tempel. Nun ist er im Freien. Der Tempel wurde Ende des 15. Jahrhunderts von einer Tsunamiwelle weggespült.

25 Ich fand einen ruhigen Platz unter einigen Bäumen in der Nähe des Großen Buddha und spielte Hi Fu Mi Cho auf der Shakuhachi.

Der nächste Ausflug auf den ich mich freute, wenn auch etwas nervös, ging nach Sojiji in Tsurumi, dem Zentrum des Soto Zen Buddhismus. 2003, als mein Vater starb, hatte ich einen ganzen Tag in den Anlagen von Sojiji verbracht, war umher gewandert, hatte meinen Gedanken und Gefühlen ihren Lauf gelassen. Das gab mir Trost. Damals ahnte ich noch nicht, dass ich einige Jahre später im Tempel selbst sein würde zu einem Tag der Einführung in das Zazen mit den Mönchen. Der Unterricht war in Japanisch, was mich an den Rand meiner begrenzten Sprachfertigkeiten brachte. Aber mit der Hilfe einer freundlichen japanischen Dame kam ich durch den Tag. Es gab Zeiten der Panik, dann, wenn meine Beine aus Stein gemacht schienen und meine Unruhe zu einem Stockhieb durch die Mönche führte “Bitte konzentrieren Sie sich”.

Auf dem Gelände von Sojiji, unter Bäumen verborgen, über dem Tempelbezirk, gibt es die große Glocke. Sie wiegt an die 19 Tonnen, ist fast dreieinhalb Meter hoch mit einem Durchmesser von fast zwei Metern. Man sagt, sie wurde auf diesen Platz im Jahr 1913 gegossen. Jede Minute erhebt sich der Mönch und schlägt die Glocke mit einem Seil an das ein riesiger Klöppel befestigt ist. Der tiefe, volle Klang ist kilometerweit zu hören.

Ich saß im Wald nahe der Glocke und spielte Shakuhachi, eine halbe Stunde lang oder so, bis mit der untergehenden Sonne die Mücken sich an mir ergötzten. Ich verließ Sojiji glücklich und entspannt.

Ich empfehle einen Ausflug nach Sojiji. Bei meinem nächsten Japanbesuch werde ich ihn sicher wiederholen.

Eine Reise nach Kyoto folgte. Wir übernachteten in einem Ryokan, einem traditionellen Gasthaus, aßen lokale Spezialitäten, die wie Kunstwerke serviert wurden. Ich hatte mir gewünscht im Kinkakuji, dem schönen Goldenen Pavillon zu spielen. Aber es schien so, als wären da gerade eine Million Kinder zum Schulausflug versammelt. Später spielte ich Shakuhachi vor dem japanischen Garten im Ryokan. Ich begann die überraschten Äußerungen zu bemerken, wenn ich in Japan Shakuhachi spielte.

Einige Tage danach bummelte ich fasziniert über den berühmten Fischmarkt Tsukiji in Tokyo und sah (und roch) die erschreckenden Geschöpfe, die man normalerweise in Natursendungen sieht. In der Nähe aß ich die frischesten Sushis und Sashimis. Die Fische waren am gleichen Tag vom Meer zum Markt gebracht worden. Nach dem

26 Mittagessen spielte ich zum erstenmal Shakuhachi für die Familie meiner Frau. Sie waren überrascht diesen Klang von einem Engländer zu hören. Das freute mich.

Ich hatte gehofft Kiku Day zu treffen. Sie arbeitet zu dieser Zeit in Osaka an einem Projekt für die Universität. Aber unsere Zeitpläne und die Entfernung verhinderten es. Aber Kiku half mir vor meiner Abreise aus England, zwei Stunden mit Okuda sensei zu vereinbaren. Die erste Stunde führt uns zurück zum Anfang dieses Artikels, als Okuda so bewegend Tamuke spielte. Das sollte das Stück sein, das er mich als erstes lehrte.

In diesem Augenblick stiegen Zweifel in mir auf. Vor weniger als einem Jahr hatte ich mich damit überrascht eine Shakuhachi zu bestellen. Und nun saß ich vor Okuda, von meinen Gefühlen bewegt, hatte mein zweiwöchiges Shakuhachi Abenteuer in Japan, spielte an wundervollen Orten, spirituellen Orten, und traf viele Shakuhachi- spieler und Shakuhachi- bauer.

Okuda ist ein höchst bezaubernder und interessanter Mann. Als erfolgreicher Jazz- Trompeter wandte er all seine Zeit und Übung auf die Shakuhachi, besonders die Jinashi. (Sie ist unlackiert und um ein Loch endgültig zu intonieren wird keine Ji Paste verwendet). Sein einzigartiger Stil wird Zensabo genannt. Okuda half mir großartig, schlechte Gewohnheiten zu korrigieren, die ich mir angewöhnt hatte während ich für mich übte. Er bot mir Lösungen für meine Probleme an und unterrichtete in einer entspannten, angenehmen Art.

Ich verbrachte zwei fruchtbare Stunden mit diesem seelenvollen Musiker. Wir arbeiteten die Noten von Tamuke durch und hatten faszinierende Gespräche. Verzweifelt versuchte ich alles aufzunehmen, was ich konnte. Ich kritzelte Noten, fotografierte und filmte sogar Techniken und ganze Lieder um sie später zu studieren. Nach zwei Stunden ging ich hinaus, begeistert und erschöpft in einem.

Während meiner ganzen Zeit in Japan übte ich wann immer ich konnte. Oft bekam ich heftige Vorwürfe von meiner Frau, ich würde so spät in der Nacht andere Hotelgäste stören. Ich müsse aufhören zu spielen. Aber -(sie weiß es nicht) ich fing wieder an während sie duschte. Jede Minute üben zählt. Natürlich könnte ich mit der Plastik- Shakuhachi in der Dusche spielen, vermutlich!

Meine zweite Stunde mit Okuda, zwei Tage nach der ersten, war ebenso voller Einsichten und Erschöpfung. Da meine Zeit mit Okada begrenzt war, schlug er vor, so viel wie möglich hineinzupacken und wir

27 begannen, Koku zu studieren. Okuda sagte, das Stück enthalte viele wichtige Techniken und solle fleissig geübt werden. Ich finde es sehr herausfordernd.

Okuda sagte, er hätte eine 2,5 Jinashi Nobe (Flöte in einem Stück), deren Bambus er im November im Bezirk von Nagano geerntet hatte und von der er glaube sie passe mir. Ich probierte sie. Sie war riesig und für meine kleinen wurstähnlichen Finger schwierig zu greifen. Aber der Klang war so sanft. Ich nahm das wundervolle Instrument beglückt an. Ich glaube, ich muss im Zug sehr seltsam ausgesehen haben, wie ich so vor mich hin lächelte.

Bevor ich zu unserem Hotel in Yokohama zurückkehrte, hatte ich einen Abstecher zu einem berühmten Shakuhachi Laden in Mejiro geplant. Ein herrlicher Ort voller Shakuhachi Zubehör und noch mehr. Die Bedienung war sehr kundig und hilfreich und ich kam mit einigen guten Dingen für meine neue Shakuhachi heraus.

Jetzt bin ich zuhause und kämpfe tapfer mit der 2,5 Jinashi. Seltsamerweise finde ich es schwierig kurze Zeit auf der 1,8 Shakuhachi zu spielen. Interessante Probleme sind auf der Shakuhachi Reise stets präsent. Sobald ich ein Problem löse, tauchen viele andere auf.

Ich glaube, ich kann wirklich sagen, die Shakuhachi ist jetzt Teil meines Lebens...... für den Rest meines Lebens. Und ich weiss immer noch nicht genau, wie es passierte.

Frohes Blasen, Adrian Bain

P.S. Gut....in zwei Tagen fahre ich zur Europäischen Shakuhachi Sommerschule 2007 in Frankreich. Es wird eine neuartige Erfahrung für mich sein, so vielen Shakuhachi Spielern zu begegnen, und ziemlich beängstigend. Ich werde euch wissen lassen, wie es mir ergangen ist.

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“Seek the sound which is evoked from within .improved, polished and developed inside yourself. The shakuhachi demands of you your candid self – thus, put your whole body into the shakuhachi. Inhale once and expire. There is no second chance in life. Each exhalation must be pure.” MIYAMOTO MUSASHI

Zazen and Shakuhachi making By Alfred Lerch

A Shakuhachi-making seminar took place in the Hokuozan Sogenji monastery in Liebenau, Germany on the weekend of the 31.8 - 2.9. Although playing the Shakuhachi originates from the tradition of the Zen Buddhism, this weekend was a rare opportunity to experience these two traditions together. We had one hour Zazen in the early morning and one hour in the evening with ShoE, the leader of the monastery. During the day we built a Shakuhachi under the instruction of Fritz Nagel, an experienced flute maker.

The idea and organisation of this weekend came from Mario Trinkhaus, from the Zen Dojo Tegel, Antai-an. He knew the Hokuozan Sogenji and anticipated, quite correctly, that it would be a beautiful experience to build a Shakuhachi at this place.

I had a long way to travel from Switzerland to Liebenau, so I started early in the morning to be there on time. I got off the bus in Liebenau, on time, at 4 p.m. The great surprise came, as I asked for the castle Eickhof: I had travelled to the wrong Liebenau. There are at least 3 of them in Germany, as I now know. The long journey from Liebenau to Liebenau was probably the test of whether I was ready to do the seminar or not. I reached the monastery at 10 o'clock in the evening, taking the last stretch by taxi.

Greater than these obstacles was the relief when admission was granted to me at the gate. I only had missed the first evening, during which Fritz had explained how we would build the instruments and the participants had the opportunity to play the instruments he had brought. These were approx. 30 instruments varying in length from 1.4 to 3.0, and of all possible diameters. By trying these instruments we could decide what size of instrument we wanted to build over the next two days.

For Saturday and Sunday the daily schedule was based on monastic life. Getting up at 5.30, 6 to 7 o'clock Zazen, 7 - 7.30 work for the

29 monastery, 8 o'clock breakfast, at 9.00 starting to build the Shakuhachi ..

First we learned to become familiar with the material and the tools. Using a saw and files we made a mouthpiece on a short piece of bamboo. Soon, we could hear that this work had been successful. Surprisingly, many tones could be elicited from these short pipes. Then we had to select our piece of bamboo. Fritz had brought a choice of approx. 50 bamboos. They varied in length and thickness, there were root end and non-root pieces and different types of bamboo. How wonderful to choose from this variety. This was a unique possibility in Europe.

After choosing the bamboo, the first job was to make it hollow throughout. We worked from the top and bottom with various tools and a drilling machine, with self-made inserts made by Fritz. The next job was sawing and filing the mouthpiece and the root part. For sawing the mouthpiece Fritz showed us the right angles, and where to cut. For the root part, each person formed it according to their own taste.

We worked all day long intensively, but in a quiet and eased atmosphere. The door of the workroom was always open and outside the door a covered area with two big tables offered additional workspace. A big Japanese garden directly adjoined this.

It was a gift to enjoy this garden for two days, as comfortable as we would be in our own homes. I felt that magic lies in a garden like this. Every stone, every plant has a very unique charisma which draws attention to itself. It is almost impossible to stop looking. Fascinating.

Sunday’s job was drilling the finger holes. First, we drilled our exercise piece and then, with bated breath on our flute. Once the hole is drilled, it is not possible to correct it anymore, at least not in the limited time of a weekend seminar. At home in his workroom, Fritz can repair almost everything. Doing this job started to become rather like a pilgrims way, with different stations: marking the place to drill the hole with Fritz, drilling the hole, burning the walls of the hole with a glowing piece of iron, checking the result with Fritz and if ok, starting again by marking the next hole. If it was not ok, the station of burning had to be repeated. Eight instruments were built, each instrument with five finger holes, 40 times was the pilgrim’s way done, with hope and joy.

We built instruments from 1.8 to 2.4 and with every newly drilled hole new tones were born. The workroom and the garden filled more and more with these tones. This was also a very fascinating time, all these tones in these very special surroundings, and everybody enjoying their

30 own instrument. Fritz even had to look for a quiet corner, to check the intonation of the instruments taken to him. The last step was oiling the inside of the bamboo with a rag soaked in oil. Then the instruments were ready for the handing over ceremony.

The Ceremony was actually a concert on our newly-built instruments. One piece on each flute was performed by Fritz, dedicated to the flute maker. What a surprise - never had somebody played especially for me. We could hear how wonderfully our instruments can be played. I listened very carefully to every tone of my flute, so as to remember later. If I can’t play like this on my flute, I now know that I can’t blame the flute. I am very grateful for this handing over because doubting the instrument is a big obstacle in the way of practising. This I know from experience.

I would also like to thank ShoE for her kindness and for her cooking, Mr. and Ms. Hess for the space provided, and all participants for the beautiful meetings. Also, thanks again to Fritz for the instruction and for passing on his knowledge.

Contact: Fritz Nagel, Shakuhachi player and builder since 1983 Schlossstrasse 4, 86485 Markt, Germany www.shakuhachi.info

Zazen und Shakuhachi Bauen Erfahrungsbericht von Alfred Lerch

Am Wochenende vom 31.8 – 2.9 fand im Kloster Hokuozan Sogenji in Liebenau, Deutschland ein Shakuhachi Bau Seminar statt. Obwohl das Spielen der Shakuhachi der Tradition der Zenklöster entstammt, war dieses Wochenende eine seltene Gelegenheit diese zwei Traditionen zusammen zu erleben. Am frühen Morgen und am Abend hatten wir eine Stunde Zazen mir ShoE, der Leiterin des Klosters. Tagsüber bauten wir unter Anleitung von Fritz Nagel, einem erfahrenen Flötenbauer, eine Shakuhachi.

Die Idee und die Organisation zu diesem Wochenende hatte Mario Trinkhaus vom Zen Dojo Tegel, Antai-an. Er kannte das Hokuozan Sogenji und ahnte ganz richtig, das es ein einmalig schönes Erlebnis sein wird, an diesem Ort eine Shakuhachi zu bauen.

Von der Schweiz aus hatte ich einen langen Weg vor mir, so startete ich früh morgens um rechtzeitig dort zu sein. Pünktlich um 16 Uhr stieg ich in Liebenau aus dem Bus. Dann kam die grosse Überraschung als ich nach Schloss Eickhof fragte: Ich war in’s falsche Liebenau gereist. Es

31 gibt, wie ich jetzt weiss, mindestens 3 davon in Deutschland. Die weitere Reise von Liebenau nach Liebenau war wohl die Prüfung, ob ich bereit bin am Kurs teilzunehmen. Ich erreichte das Kloster um 10 Uhr abends, für das letzte Stück benötigte ich ein Taxi.

Grösser als die Hindernisse war die Erleichterung, als mir am Tor Einlass gewährt wurde. Verpasst hatte ich den ersten Abend, an dem Fritz erklärt hatte, wie wir die Instrumente bauen werden und die Teilnehmer hatten die Gelegenheit gehabt seine mitgebrachten Instrumente zu spielen. Das waren ca. 30 Instrumente von der Länge 1.4 bis 3.0 und allen möglichen Durchmessern. So konnte man durch ausprobieren entscheiden, was für eine Grösse man selber bauen möchte.

Für Samstag und Sonntag war der Tagesablauf dem Klosterleben nachempfunden. Aufstehen um 5.30 Uhr, 6 bis 7 Uhr Zazen, 7 – 7.30 Arbeit für das Kloster, 8 Uhr Frühstück, ab 9 Uhr Shakuhachi bauen.....

Als erstes liess uns Fritz an einem kurzen Stück Bambus mit dem Material und den Werkzeugen vertraut werden. Mit Säge und Feilen fertigten wir ein Mundstück an. Dass diese Arbeit gelungen war konnte man bald hören. Diesen kurzen Röhrchen liessen sich schon viele Töne entlocken, was rege ausprobiert wurde. Danach kam das Auslesen des Bambus. Fritz hatte uns ca 50 Bambusrohre zur Auswahl mitgebracht. In verschiedenen Längen, Dicken, mit oder ohne Wurzelstücke und aus verschiedenen Bambussorten. Traumhaft, denn wo in Europa kann man aus dieser Vielfalt auslesen.

Nach der Wahl galt es das Rohr erst einmal durchgehend hohl zu machen. Mit diversen Werkzeugen und einer Bohrmaschine, bestückt mit von Fritz selbstgebauten Aufsätzen, arbeiteten wir von oben und unten am Bambus, bis man zum ersten mal hindurchblasen konnte. Die nächste Arbeit war das Sägen und Feilen des Mundstücks und die Bearbeitung der Wurzelpartie. Beim Heraussägen der Anblaskante gab uns Fritz den richtigen Winkel an. Die Wurzelpartie gestaltete jeder nach eigenem ästhetischen Empfinden.

Den ganzen Tag arbeiteten wir in intensiv, doch in wohltuend ruhiger und entspannter Stimmung. Die Werkstattüre war stets offen und vor der Türe bot ein überdachter Platz mit zwei grossen Tischen zusätzlichen Arbeitsraum. Unmittelbar daran grenzte ein grosser japanischer Garten.

Es war ein Geschenk, für zwei Tage diesen Garten so zu geniessen, als wenn wir dort zuhause wären. Etwas magisches liegt in so einem

32 Garten, immer wieder fordert er zum hinschauen auf. Jede Pflanze, jeder Stein hat eine einzigartige Ausstrahlung welche die Aufmerksamkeit auf sich zieht. Faszinierend.

Die Arbeit des Sonntags war das Bohren der Fingerlöcher. Zuerst bohrten wir wieder an unserem Übungsstück und dann, mit angehaltenem Atem, an unserer Flöte, denn einmal gebohrt, lässt sich kaum mehr etwas korrigieren, jedenfalls nicht im begrenzten Zeitrahmen eines solchen Seminars. Zuhause in seiner Werkstatt kann Fritz fast alles reparieren. Das Ausführen der Arbeit ergab einen kleinen Pilgerweg mit den Stationen: Loch anzeichnen lassen bei Fritz, bohren, schwärzen der Bohrung mit einem glühenden Stück Eisen, Kontrolle des Ergebnisses bei Fritz und wenn i.O. dann wieder Anzeichen des nächsten Lochs. Wenn nicht i.O musste die Station Lochdurchmesser erweitern wiederholt werden. Acht Instrumente wurden gebaut, fünf Fingerlöcher hat jedes, 40 mal wurde mit Hoffnung und Freude der Pilgerweg begangen.

Wir bauten Instrumente von 1.8 bis 2.4 und mit jedem neu gebohrten Loch wurden neue Töne geboren. Mehr und mehr wurde die Werkstatt und der Garten von diesen Tönen erfüllt und man hörte die Freude der Spieler darin. Fritz hatte sich derweilen im Garten eine ruhige Ecke gesucht um die Intonation der zu ihm gebrachten Instrumente zu prüfen. Der letzte Arbeitsschritt war das Einölen. Mit einem ölgetränkten Lappen wurde das Innere des Bambus geölt. Dann war das Instrument bereit für die Übergabe Zeremonie.

Die Zeremomie war eigentlich ein Konzert auf unseren soeben gebauten Instrumenten. Fritz spielte auf jeder Flöte jeweils ein Stück für den Flötenbauer. Was für eine Überraschung, noch nie hatte jemand extra für mich ein Stück gespielt. So konnten wir hören wie wunderbar man auf unseren Instrumenten spielen kann. Ganz genau lauschte ich jedem Ton meiner Flöte, um mich später daran erinnern zu können. Denn wenn es bei meinem Spiel einmal nicht so klingt wie ich möchte, weiss ich nun, dass es nicht an der Flöte liegt. Für diese Übergabe bin ich Fritz sehr dankbar, denn das Zweifeln am Instrument ist ein grosses Hindernis auf dem Weg des Übens, das weiss ich aus Erfahrung.

Danken möchte ich auch ShoE für ihr liebevolles Dasein und für’s Kochen, dem Ehepaar Hess für den zur Verfügung gestellten Raum, allen Teilnehmern für die schönen Begegnungen. Und danke nochmals an Fritz für die Anleitung beim Bauen und die Weitergabe seines Wissens.

Kontakt:

33 Fritz Nagel, Shakuhachi Spieler und Bauer seit 1983 Schlossstrasse 4, 86485 Markt, Deutschland www.shakuhachi.info

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TRIBUTE

While we were evaluating the 2nd European Shakuhachi Summerschool, we heard that YOKOYAMA Shigeko, YOKOYAMA Katsuya-sensei's mother, left this world.

She made all the people who met her on their way feel very deeply impressed by her incredible vitality, her tremendous instinct of surviving, by her sensitiveness for beauty, pleasures of life and of course music, through which she had a great influence on her son Katsuya.

She was a koto player, but had an especially strong taste for shakuhachi, and she widely participated in the choice of the instrument, even in the choice of the learning, and in the reputation and the greatness of her son YOKOYAMA Katsuya and his music, supporting him in all his work.

She passed away on the 7th of September, the day before her 96th birthday, in the most natural

way, without any pain or any medicine: she simply felt asleep, very peacefully, for an eternal rest.

So this is a very special sensitive tribute that we are giving here to YOKOYAMA Shigeko.

HOMMAGE x media graphic library graphic media x Au moment de faire le bilan sur la 2ème Rencontre Européenne du Shakuahchi nous apprenons que YOKOYAMA Shigeko, la propre mère de YOKOYAMA Katsuya –sensei, a quitté ce monde.

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Elle aura marqué très profondément, tous ceux qui l'auront croisé sur leur chemin, par son incroyable vitalité, son formidable instinct de survie, par sa sensibilité pour la beauté, les plaisirs de la vie et bien évidemment pour la musique, et aura, pour ces raisons, profondément influencé son fils Katsuya. Elle était joueuse de koto, mais avait un goût prononcé pour le shakuhachi, et a très largement contribué au choix de l'instrument et même de l'enseignement, puis à la réputation et à la grandeur de son fils YOKOYAMA Katsuya et de sa musique, soutenant ainsi celui-ci dans toute son oeuvre. Elle est partie le 7 septembre à la veille de ses 96 ans de la façon la plus naturelle qu'il soit, sans peine ni médecine aucunes: elle s'est tout simplement endormie, très paisiblement, pour un repos éternel. Aussi c'est un hommage tout particulièrement sensible que nous rendons ici à YOKOYAMA Shigeko.

Véronique PIRON, d'après le communiqué de KAKIZAKAI Kaoru (according to the statement of KAKIZAKAI Kaoru )

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Prague Shakuhachi Summer School 2007 by Adrian Bain

I had been in the Czech Republic for twenty minutes and I was feeling very sick. My taxi driver was driving like he was in computer driving game, dodging in and out of lanes at high speed. While he avoided (just) other vehicles, he helpfully pointed out famous buildings and monuments to me. “Look at that”, he would say. “I will, but please… don’t you!”.

I arrived shakily at my hotel and waited for the arrival of Kees Kort (nl), Annelies Nederbragt (nl) and Philip Horan (ir), all of whom I had met at the 2007 E.S.S. Summer School in France the month before.

The others were delayed, so I made my way by taxi again (bravely, I thought) to the first meeting of the 2007 Prague Shakuhachi Christopher Yohmei Blasdel Summer School. Everyone was to meet at a Photo by Adrian Bain Japanese restaurant, Miyabi, in Prague city

35 centre. Just as I arrived, two people were walking toward me. Shakuhachi players, I thought (I haven’t worked out why yet, but you can often tell). I was right and it was my first meeting with Vlastislav Matousek (cz), host teacher of the summer school.

In the restaurant, we enjoyed a leisurely vegetarian meal, introducing ourselves to other Shakuhachi players as they arrived. It was nice to see Marek Matvija (cz) again, who had also been at the E.S.S. Summer School. There were now five of us who had attended the summer school in France. We were joined by another six others players, two of whom were complete beginners.

It was a pleasure to meet Christopher Yohmei Blasdel. I had read his book “The Single Tone” and marvelled at how the Shakuhachi had taken him round the world and how he had demonstrated the marvels of the Shakuhachi to many cultures. I had not considered that I would meet him. From the start, Christopher came across as a very relaxed, thoughtful man.

At the end of the evening, the plans for the coming summer school were explained. Stage one: a 6:30am rise for Yoga.

At 8am, I rose.

I may have been the only one to miss the Yoga on that day, at least. The Yoga classes were kindly provided by Ajay Bobade in a Yoga school only two doors away from the hotel. This is also where the summer school classes would be held.

The classes commenced at 9am. As we were in a Yoga school, we conveniently had access to mats and zafu (cushions); most people played on a mat on the floor. It was a relaxing atmosphere.

We commenced each day with robuki. Rooooooo.

Each teacher would teach a piece throughout the summer school and these would be performed at the students’ concert on the last evening. Christopher taught “Hi Fu Mi Hachigaeshi”, Vlastislav The Class Photo by Adrian Bain Matousek taught “Kyorei” and Kees Kort “Tamuke”.

36 The summer school had an interesting format which allowed each teacher to have free sessions so that they could be available for short, one-to-one lessons, addressing issues that individual students might be having. Others were welcome to join a session if they had the same question or problem. This is an excellent idea that perhaps should be adopted by future summer schools.

The absolute beginners, Jan Sorf (cz) and Vitek Jindrle (cz), were privileged to have their first lessons with the esteemed Christopher Yohmei Blasdel. What an excellent start to their Shakuhachi life!

At lunch times, we all tended to eat together, trying various establishments. The lunches tended to be long and enjoyable, but may have had an affect on our wakefulness. It was perhaps unfortunate that the afternoon sessions commenced Christopher and Kees Photo by Adrian Bain with a lecture. With the lights dimmed and lying on a mat to watch and listen to the lecture, there was an occasional spot of dozing from a few. This was no fault of the lecturer or content. We had fascinating talks about acoustics from Philip Horan and David Bidlo (cz), and an astounding in-depth talk from Vlastislav about the history and versions of “Kyorei”. They were all though provoking and the speakers had clearly studied their subjects with a passion.

After the lectures, we commenced our lessons. The lessons were always relaxed and open, with students able to ask questions freely. Often, we would veer away from the piece being taught in order to demonstrate something connected or to have a change of subject to relax the brain. We would Socialising Photo by Adrian Bain talk about posture, grounding, fingering options, tone and breathing. We played a variety of other songs, even Beethoven’s Ode to Joy and an Indian Raga. Kees would often be found playing anything that he could blow into and producing

37 amazing sounds, while Vlastislav would show me scores that were works of beautiful calligraphy.

At tea-time [what do other countries call our English tea-time?], we would have a break to refresh ourselves before the evening’s concert. The non-Czechs would take the opportunity to have a wander around beautiful Prague, sightseeing, and have a bite to eat before the concert.

The first concert was held in a beautiful church that had very good acoustics. The teachers played for us and the public; also in attendance were representatives of the Japanese Embassy, who presented the players with flowers. One member of the public was so impressed she wanted to join the The Teachers Photo by Adrian Bain summer school. Gabriela Kunstova (cz) was so keen she even turned up for the Yoga at 6:30am.

Which I didn’t - again.

The second concert was held in a cellar below a literary café. We experienced the special combination of poetry accompanied by Shakuhachi. The poet Petr Berkovec (cz) was accompanied by Vlastislav and Marek. The poetry was in Czech, but even without understanding the words, the tone and rhythm of his voice surrounded by subtle sounds from the Shakuhachi created a moving atmosphere. Petr was followed by the poet James Ragan (us) accompanied by Christopher.

James Ragan James is an American of Czech descent, Photo by Adrian Bain which strongly influenced his work. Everyone was moved by his poems and delivery, in particular one piece about his father’s return to the Czech Republic and his unexpected reception. I had not expected to be so affected by the poetry, but I was and deeply. Christopher has a delicacy and sensitivity to his playing, such that his accompaniment visibly moved James, causing him to pause in his delivery.

The third concert was also in the cellar. The theme was contemporary music, with outstanding contributions from Christopher and Kees, but I feel that the night was stolen by Vlastislav and his three talented

38 daughters. It is impossible for me to describe the music they produced, suffice to say my jaw dropped and I was (unusually) speechless.

When many had retired for the evening, the hard core of us (you know who you are!) remained for an extra beer (or three). Jakub Misek (cz) started to play pieces on a piano; Kees started to ad-lib, singing a jazzy blues number. Kees started to charm his small audience and I joined in with a vocal “trumpet” line and we all Vlastislav & Marek Photo by Adrian started to swing. Everyone was laughing, until one of the staff from upstairs came storming down screeching “This is not acceptable!”, “On no account can this continue!”, “This must stop!”. She was scary. We stopped.

The beer and food in Prague are excellent value. So we had more beer. Eventually we all went home, except for Kees, who was still thirsty for the nightlife.

In the morning, at last, I made it to Yoga. I was a little late, but I made it. What I couldn’t believe was that Kees was there before me - he hadn’t got in until around 4am and yet he beat me to Yoga!

He did fall asleep and start snoring In the cellar Photo by Adrian Bain through the Yoga class though.

The fourth concert returned to the church. The students played the pieces learned over the four days of summer school and Philip Horan played delightful Irish music that was, as always, very well received. Annelies surprised us all with a short drama about her early frustrations learning the Shakuhachi.

Everyone had some final drinks in a bar and we all said goodbye.

Kees and Annelies kindly rose at 6am and drove me to the airport, where we said a sad farewell. They have become very dear friends in a short space of time.

I will return to Prague. It is a beautiful city. I will meet my new friends again. The Czech people are impressive, cultured and kind.

39 For me, the Prague Summer School was a huge success. I thank Marek for organising the event and looking after us. I thank Christopher for his patience and kind gift of his wisdom. I thank Kees for the knowledge he shared and his laughter and sheer energy. I thank Vlastislav and all the Czech Shakuhachi players for welcoming us all. I will not forget it.

Happy Blowing, Adrian Bain

The Prague Shakuhachi Summer School 2007 Photo by “The Camera”

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