I grew up always fond of music. By the fifth grade, I was blasting away at my trumpet. At the age of fourteen, my love took on six mistresses with hollow tones and versatility. Freeing up my lungs and lips meant that I could let my voice ring out and be heard. In between, my life-force would be dictated by a pair of ‘hand-me-down’ drumsticks. For me, music was my “everything.” It was my outlet and my expression of emotion.
Intertwining my path from infancy to now, rhythm always ruled my world. At some points, it would simply drive others to lunacy. Everything I did had rhythm. As much as I craved and loved the arts, there was just something tribal about percussion that always won over my heart.
In some ways, music has been my muse. My source of communication when no one would listen. Drumming and rhythm in general were the best and most primitive way of conveying my message. I also had a sincere love for the Orient. Anything that had to do with Asia was right up my alley. Japan was especially enthralling to me. Buddhism, martial arts, music, etc. all had a way of capturing my undivided attention.
I remember the first time I saw taiko drumming. I had no clue what it was. I remember watching it on one of the local PBS stations. It was fascinating! After the program, however, I completely forgot about it. I was fifteen after all and, well…I had other things on my mind.
Two years later while attending a Buddhist celebration, I experience taiko drumming live. The group of fellow youth members from New Orleans traveled to south Florida to play for us. Their spirit and tenacity engulfed every soul in that room while their intense shouts rang straight through the walls. It was not until later on that I found out that some of these youth had lost everything in the Katrina disaster that occurred a few months prior to the event. For some reason, knowing this was both heart-wrenching and inspiring at the same time. They overcame surmounting obstacles that would crush most people and still had the sincere passion to perform for us. I remember thinking to myself, “I need to do this! I must learn how to play Taiko!”
I was not the only one, thankfully. A handful of others felt the same and it wasn’t long before I was leading the way to have a group of our own.
Within a few weeks, we began constructing our own drum. It was a labor of love, but in the terms of building a taiko drum, I had later found out that it was a poor representation. A few weeks after developing a song, a name, and a goal we caught wind of a taiko group based out of south Florida called Fushu Daiko. Our members made contact with their director and we made a day trip to their dojo.
We spent an entire day training vigorously and for some of us, we realized that taiko drumming was a bit too much. For the others, we became more determined than ever to see our group become successful.
Unfortunately, not everything is as it seems.
I am not one to believe in coincidence. Everything happens for a reason.
It was only a few short months after that when things happened, words were spoken, and lines were crossed. My hopes to learn taiko drumming seemed all but lost. Or so I thought…
A few months before my eighteenth birthday I was given some exciting news. A friend of a friend had ties with the taiko group that performed at Walt Disney World’s Epcot Center – Japan Pavilion and that we were to travel to Orlando from Tampa, FL to meet with them and ask permission to learn taiko drumming. The individual who knew my friend and connected me is still unknown to this day. Whoever you are, believe that I am eternally grateful!
That night, sitting in a restaurant on I-Drive in Orlando, FL called Ran Getsu I intently waited for the show to start. Lights beamed on the stage outside and no sooner after that, the intense booming began. My heart started to pound. My eyes widened and my smile began to hurt my face. I clapped along with the drummers of Matsuriza. It wasn’t long before I wanted nothing more than to join them on stage.
“One thing at time, Jason.” Is probably what I said to myself.
Thirty minutes later, their show ended. The drummers bowed and waved to a crowd that was cheering with much happiness. If there was any doubt in my mind as to whether or not I wanted to learn taiko drumming, it was squashed like a bug.
To my surprise, we had asked if it were possible to speak with one of the drummers from the group. Yuko Ishikura was very gracious enough to spend the remaining part of her evening with us so that we could inquire about learning taiko drumming from her Sensei. It was not until later on that I found out that she in fact was the wife of the dojo’s Sensei, Takemasa Ishikura. Needless to say, they were a match made in heaven. When I had asked if I may learn how to play, she smiled and nodded with enthusiasm. “Of course you may,” she replied. I became the happiest person alive for that moment in time.
As Yuko Ishikura made her way back to her dressing room to prepare to leave for the night, my party and I finished our meals and made our journey back Tampa. The entire ride was simply about Taiko.
The next year, during the hot summer of Florida, taiko class resumed. At this point, I should mention that the class was held outdoors at the Ran Getsu parking lot. Talk about being exposed to the elements! My first class was quite interesting. I felt like such an outsider. I didn’t know what they were saying, or what they were thinking. All I knew is that I was one of two American’s at the time. Everyone else were of Japanese descent. Trying to think back, I don’t recall what my initial reaction was. However, I do remember that it felt…comfortable.
It wasn’t long before I began making strides in my playing. The language barrier helped with that. I was forced to pay much closer attention to what Ishikura-Sensei was saying and had to rely of mimicking movements that I noticed from other drummers.
Over the course of a few months, I continued to expand my abilities. I even remember my first performance. The weeks leading up to it were filled with apprehension. There were many parts that I was very unsure of and practicing only once a week made it difficult to grow comfortable with the song. I depended solely on YouTube to watch the songs that were performing that day over and over again. Banging on my desk, I tried desperately to make sense of the unusual patterns. Yatai Bayashi was the first traditional piece I learned. It was also one of the most difficult ones. I specifically remember the day of the show, I completely massacred the song towards the end. It was on video too!
(Sigh) My first show…the memories will last a lifetime. There was so much to learn and yet, here I was. Finally standing behind a taiko with gusto and excitement. I didn’t know that this was to be the first of many adventures.
Intertwining my path from infancy to now, rhythm always ruled my world. At some points, it would simply drive others to lunacy. Everything I did had rhythm. As much as I craved and loved the arts, there was just something tribal about percussion that always won over my heart.
In some ways, music has been my muse. My source of communication when no one would listen. Drumming and rhythm in general were the best and most primitive way of conveying my message. I also had a sincere love for the Orient. Anything that had to do with Asia was right up my alley. Japan was especially enthralling to me. Buddhism, martial arts, music, etc. all had a way of capturing my undivided attention.
I remember the first time I saw taiko drumming. I had no clue what it was. I remember watching it on one of the local PBS stations. It was fascinating! After the program, however, I completely forgot about it. I was fifteen after all and, well…I had other things on my mind.
Two years later while attending a Buddhist celebration, I experience taiko drumming live. The group of fellow youth members from New Orleans traveled to south Florida to play for us. Their spirit and tenacity engulfed every soul in that room while their intense shouts rang straight through the walls. It was not until later on that I found out that some of these youth had lost everything in the Katrina disaster that occurred a few months prior to the event. For some reason, knowing this was both heart-wrenching and inspiring at the same time. They overcame surmounting obstacles that would crush most people and still had the sincere passion to perform for us. I remember thinking to myself, “I need to do this! I must learn how to play Taiko!”
I was not the only one, thankfully. A handful of others felt the same and it wasn’t long before I was leading the way to have a group of our own.
Within a few weeks, we began constructing our own drum. It was a labor of love, but in the terms of building a taiko drum, I had later found out that it was a poor representation. A few weeks after developing a song, a name, and a goal we caught wind of a taiko group based out of south Florida called Fushu Daiko. Our members made contact with their director and we made a day trip to their dojo.
We spent an entire day training vigorously and for some of us, we realized that taiko drumming was a bit too much. For the others, we became more determined than ever to see our group become successful.
Unfortunately, not everything is as it seems.
I am not one to believe in coincidence. Everything happens for a reason.
It was only a few short months after that when things happened, words were spoken, and lines were crossed. My hopes to learn taiko drumming seemed all but lost. Or so I thought…
A few months before my eighteenth birthday I was given some exciting news. A friend of a friend had ties with the taiko group that performed at Walt Disney World’s Epcot Center – Japan Pavilion and that we were to travel to Orlando from Tampa, FL to meet with them and ask permission to learn taiko drumming. The individual who knew my friend and connected me is still unknown to this day. Whoever you are, believe that I am eternally grateful!
That night, sitting in a restaurant on I-Drive in Orlando, FL called Ran Getsu I intently waited for the show to start. Lights beamed on the stage outside and no sooner after that, the intense booming began. My heart started to pound. My eyes widened and my smile began to hurt my face. I clapped along with the drummers of Matsuriza. It wasn’t long before I wanted nothing more than to join them on stage.
“One thing at time, Jason.” Is probably what I said to myself.
Thirty minutes later, their show ended. The drummers bowed and waved to a crowd that was cheering with much happiness. If there was any doubt in my mind as to whether or not I wanted to learn taiko drumming, it was squashed like a bug.
To my surprise, we had asked if it were possible to speak with one of the drummers from the group. Yuko Ishikura was very gracious enough to spend the remaining part of her evening with us so that we could inquire about learning taiko drumming from her Sensei. It was not until later on that I found out that she in fact was the wife of the dojo’s Sensei, Takemasa Ishikura. Needless to say, they were a match made in heaven. When I had asked if I may learn how to play, she smiled and nodded with enthusiasm. “Of course you may,” she replied. I became the happiest person alive for that moment in time.
As Yuko Ishikura made her way back to her dressing room to prepare to leave for the night, my party and I finished our meals and made our journey back Tampa. The entire ride was simply about Taiko.
The next year, during the hot summer of Florida, taiko class resumed. At this point, I should mention that the class was held outdoors at the Ran Getsu parking lot. Talk about being exposed to the elements! My first class was quite interesting. I felt like such an outsider. I didn’t know what they were saying, or what they were thinking. All I knew is that I was one of two American’s at the time. Everyone else were of Japanese descent. Trying to think back, I don’t recall what my initial reaction was. However, I do remember that it felt…comfortable.
It wasn’t long before I began making strides in my playing. The language barrier helped with that. I was forced to pay much closer attention to what Ishikura-Sensei was saying and had to rely of mimicking movements that I noticed from other drummers.
Over the course of a few months, I continued to expand my abilities. I even remember my first performance. The weeks leading up to it were filled with apprehension. There were many parts that I was very unsure of and practicing only once a week made it difficult to grow comfortable with the song. I depended solely on YouTube to watch the songs that were performing that day over and over again. Banging on my desk, I tried desperately to make sense of the unusual patterns. Yatai Bayashi was the first traditional piece I learned. It was also one of the most difficult ones. I specifically remember the day of the show, I completely massacred the song towards the end. It was on video too!
(Sigh) My first show…the memories will last a lifetime. There was so much to learn and yet, here I was. Finally standing behind a taiko with gusto and excitement. I didn’t know that this was to be the first of many adventures.