Last of Japan. Or so I thought.
I’d decided to leave Japan after 10 weeks of research
with what felt like no results. I was more confused
than when I arrived.
Paul Weller was playing Tokyo so I treated myself with
a gig before leaving. I’d arrived late hoping to buy a
cheap ticket off a tout but there were no touts about
just an orderly queue of people.
Growing up the UK my life had been a series of Jam,
Style Council and Weller gigs. They were always as
riotous as the audience was. I always felt a part of
such crowds. It was interesting to see how Mr. Weller
was going fit in here.
The packed house was seated and silent as they waited
for him. As I blinked I missed his arrival. Suddenly
there he was on stage. The full house remains well
ordered and offered a controlled hand clap. No cheers
not even a murmur from the audience. The atmosphere
felt like a school concert with an amateur rock band
on stage. Weller looked bemused but did his best and
continued.
I was at the back of the Circle. And like my attempts
over these last 10 weeks I felt desperately outside what
was happening around me. I felt the same frustration
in the concert hall that I felt at not getting inside
Japan. I instruct my Japanese friend to follow me in
an effort to get closer to the stage and thunder out
of the Circle and down some stairs to the main hall.
My friend is warning me that we do not have the right
tickets, 'fuck them. I am angry at my failed attempts
at getting inside Japan and want to at least enjoy
this gig before I leave. It stirs great memories of
growing up with Weller gigs as a kid.
I storm the main hall doors expecting a polite young
Japanese ticket collector to stop me. Two ticket
men demand tickets I thunder past them and run down
the aisle followed by my friend, pushing more ticket
collectors out of my way. I end up 6 feet from Weller
at the front. Close up I wanted to feel the gig and enjoy it more.
But close up I could sense Weller’s bemusement more
than I could from back.
Weller was doing his best to enjoy himself. Blasting
through the set. The crowd would sway to the songs and
clap between them. There was an eerie silence amongst
the crowd that Weller found embarrassing. He would
amuse himself by making jokes, knowing no-one was
really understanding him.
"Just keep clapping a little longer while I change my
guitar...”
Clap clap clap
Weller was struggling through his set like I had
struggled through my research-time in Japan. No matter
how hard he tried he never got closer to his audience
they always kept themselves at arms length. Swaying
through songs and clapping between them. I could
really identify with him. This Weller concert was a
monument to my time in Japan.
To amuse himself he would make more jokes with the
audience who he didn't understand and who didn't
understand him.
"It’s a great pleasure to play back in this hall in
Nakano. I played here 26 years ago when I started out
with the jam and ..." he smiles knowing he is talking
to himself. "It was a fucking nightmare then and it is now"
he hammers into another song laughing to himself.
This concert was more personal than most it felt like
an epitaph to my time Japan. A grateful goodbye to 10
long weeks of alienation, confusion and
disappointment. Weller kept looking round to his
young band members and breaking into fits of laughter.
I kept thinking 'oh why does Japan make itself so
alien'.
I remember an english teacher telling me when I first
arrived. 'The problem with the Japanese he said is that they
always live up to their worst stereotypes.'
Weller returns to the stage for the encore. A Jam
number, 'Town Called Malice'... he cannot get the first
line out for laughing; it’s a private joke with other
band members who are also laughing. As he sings the
first line the joke becomes clear to me but is missed
on the thousands in the audience...
'you better stop dreaming of the quite life because
it’s the one you'll never know...'
Weller can hardly sing for laughing now.
I leave the gig remembering the good old days of
growing up with Weller gigs in the UK. I struggle to
find what Japan means to me. 10 weeks in Japan had
sort of destroyed my soul. I thought fuck Japan I will
never come back I simply cannot relate to this place.
6 Weeks Later
I’m back in UK recovered and behaving as if I was
never in Japan. I am thinking of making a film in
Africa then the phone goes, it’s the BBC they love the
last idea I sent about Japan and would love me to make
it. Furthermore they are offering the best part of 200k to
do so. The Japanese network NHK will match that with a
further 100k.
I’ve been raising money to make this film for the best part of 3 years ... the money allows me to make a film the way I want with the luxury of a year in which to make it. This was always my dream.
The problem is now my dream has become my nightmare.
posted by mcallister at
12:15 PM
|
1 comment(s)
