The Shak is Broken
A while back, I read a review in The New Yorker about The Shark is Broken; a comedy about the behind-the-scenes drama that took place during the grueling shoot that brought us 1975’s Jaws, the proto-blockbuster. The play stars and was written in part by Ian Shaw, son of actor Robert Shaw. Shaw the elder was known for his roles in From Russia With Love, The Sting, and A Man for All Seasons, but it was his appearance as “Quint” in Jaws that made him a household name in America.
Despite the contrasting artistic expressions, it was hard not to see a kind of parallel, imagining the actor Ian Shaw portraying his father as he performed in arguably his most famous role. The younger Shaw has said he never wanted to trade on the success of his father, which I totally believe. We freely use the term nepo baby whenever we refer to the children who follow in their parent’s footsteps, but only when they find success.
Contrary to occasional online opinion, I can’t say that being my father’s son has opened any doors.
That may be due in part to my father’s outright refusal to participate in the music industry in any meaningful way. My dad worked incredibly hard his whole life, but he never got into the whole music biz hustle. He never sought the spotlight, never tried to score Carnagie Hall.
His obsession, his raison d’être was mastering shakuhachi. His practice and subsequent excellence would have been no different if he only ever played in complete isolation.
It got me thinking about Norah Jones. Admittedly, she didn’t even meet her father until much later in her life as I understand it, and there’s no question that she’s a rare talent in her own right. But decidedly, she is the daughter of the man who is the first name in sitar, at least in this country. I’ve always wondered what that was like for her.
I’ve often felt like I’m improvising at playing the “role” of a shakuhachi sōke, because I never had that behavior modeled for me. After all, being raised by an iemoto who never wanted to be an iemoto made the idea of being an iemoto complicated. My dad was rankled by the whole iemoto system and he never talked to me about it, ever.
One night, way past last call in the pub, a few of us lingered after the gig to have a nightcap with the bartender, which meant sitting in darkness so as not to alert the authorities. I was speaking with Tom Creegan, my Irish music sage, who surprised me by saying he couldn’t imagine what it was like to grow up with my musical lineage. Tom was the only musician in his family on either side, so had no role models in his household. I remember saying to him, neither can I.
More anon,
Hanz