The “A…”
Thanks everyone for participating in the first Q & A! I hope in future brogs you’ll feel comfortable to share any questions you might have. I believe this kind of interaction is crucially important to the tradition; there truly is no such thing as a stupid question. We have to feel safe to ask for clarification. There are no gatekeepers, but there are a dwindling number of people with lived experience in this musical history.
All these questions were great and deserve longer responses, but for now, this is what I have…
From Kurt:
What is the procedure for traditional descendants that are not in the bloodline? Especially for non-Japanese musicians? Is there one?
The iemoto system provides—and even encourages—passing on professional names outside of ones own bloodline. It is very rare to have a name handed down within one family as it has been in mine. If Japanese music hadn’t opened to the west, it might have faded even further into history in the decades following World War II. Japan’s movement to westernize in the 19th Century never stopped, and fewer and fewer young people were taking up traditional Japanese art forms.
My point is, non-Japanese musicians—and you must understand, this includes me—are the natural and vital successors to keeping the tradition alive. So, the procedure is the same. I, for example, would set criteria for my students to meet in order to either earn or inherit a professional name; this process is called natori, or literally, “taking a name.”
Every school or teacher can set their own standard they hold their students to before they grant them a professional name. The natori system is also a sizable portion of a shakuhachi school’s income, and it pays up to the headmaster.
Since my father’s time, the Arakis have made natori a fairly low-key affair, forgoing any pomp and circumstance.
On a related note, JJ asks:
You said that you are the last Kodo, then why you gave the name Baikyoku to a foreigner？ Do you really need a godson?
(I have to be honest, this question baffles me. I have to hope it’s a matter of a language barrier and not xenophobia, so I’ll do my best to answer it as though it were asked without ill intent.)
I gave my former professional name Baikyoku to my top student who is Chinese. I live in America. I have a Japanese father, but again, I would never in a million years be considered Japanese. So, by any definition you choose, I am a foreigner. The reason I gave him a name that’s so special and personal to me is simple: He earned it. But it’s also because of his natural ability. When I play with him, I hear myself at his age.
Forgive me, but I really don’t know what you mean by godson.
Saoirse asks:
I have a question regarding cross genre collaboration as a trad musician. While my musical training and passion is for Irish and Scottish Trad, I have always found it easier to be in community with other types of musicians, particularly now post gender transition and with the ongoing pandemic. However I’m also wary of genre fusion that comes off to me as gimmicky/disrespectful/exploitative, and don’t want to perpetuate that trend myself. Do you think there is a way to do genre fusion that is respectful to the traditions it borrows from? If so, how? If not, why?
This is a really tricky area, isn’t it, because it’s so subjective. Fusion and evolution has to be a part of traditional music otherwise it can become as brittle as pressed flowers—still beautiful, but not living. But there is a fine line between fusion/evolution and exploitation/appropriation.
My opinion has always been that before you can change something, you have to be immersed in it. Fluent. Before you “do your own thing” with your traditional music of choice, you need to exhaust what the tradition has to offer. When one composes—let’s say Irish—music without having done your homework, you run the risk of inadvertently stepping on tunes that have essentially already been written.
Most importantly, if you want to write original tunes simply because you want to make royalties and not necessarily because you’re moved to contribute to a tradition—especially if you want to call yourself a traditional musician—then be especially careful you’re not wading into the gimmicky/disrespectful/exploitative end of the pool.
There is some really great music within traditional idioms still being written as we speak. And I’m fully aware how difficult it is to make a living as a musician. But I always go back to Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest when these conversations come up. In the soundtrack is listed Two Hornpipes, alternately credited to Skip Henderson or Hans Zimmer. It’s neither. It’s just Fisher’s Hornpipe, with maybe a couple variations here or there that evidently distinguishes it enough to call it an original composition; but it should read trad. arr. (that is, traditional, arrangement by; not talk-like-a-pirate speak). Give credit where credit is due.
Fusion has always been more of a just because you can does it mean you should? question for me. Some great tastes just don’t taste great together and can feel ham-handed. Not every genre sounds good on shakuhachi and while it’s physically possible to play [insert example here] on the shakuhachi, it strains the boundaries of good taste and again, doesn’t necessarily move the tradition forward. I’m not saying it should never be done and is an affront to my ancestors to even play [insert same or new example here] on the shakuhachi, but I don’t think it always needs to be shared—just keep it among you and your friends for a laugh.
Also, If you’re tired of playing The Bucks of Oranmore and the ten other tunes you know and just want to write your own tunes, maybe consider that Irish music might not be for you. If you’re bored by honkyoku, maybe the shakuhachi isn’t the right fit for your musical journey.
Again, all this is just my opinion.
From Donavon:
I’m curious about the Araki technique, the very unique and identifiable approach to certain phrases and ornamentations that separate it from all other Kinko Ryu players. Is this technique more true to Kurosawa’s original intent?
Kodo II was playing only about a hundred years after Kurosawa. And considering how transformative and influential not only he but Kodo III, as well, was, how and why has the Araki style all but disappeared?
Araki Kodo II was a great admirer of shakuhachi master Toyoda Kodo (from whom he inherited the name Kodo). Toyoda was a student of Hisamatsu Fuyo, himself a student of Kurosawa Kinko III. From this we can reasonably assume the style of music and technique is as Kurosawa Kinko intended.
As to the vanishing Araki style, I can only speculate. The fact is, regardless of his prowess on the instrument and his charisma, Kodo III died very young; just 56 years of age. His son, my grandfather was even younger (43). The tradition then fell to my father at age 6 who grew disillusioned with the world he had been born into having lost his father at such a young age, and living a childhood utterly bereft of any joy or happiness.
Whether by nature or nurture, he was not an assertive person and remained a passive instructor to the end. Meaning, if someone came to him, he would teach them (myself included), but he would not proselytize the Araki-ha. Not because he didn’t believe in its merit, but because it went against his grain to do so.