tsubatics
December 16th, 2023 (daytime)
Now, let us get into some Japan specific live music lexicon.
A “bandman” is a bandmember in music band. How and why did this transformation happen? I dunno.
A “solo show” is a show where a bandman plays music alone, without his bandmates.
A “one-man show”, is when an artist or a band are the sole or clearly defined main act of a concert. I know, it sounds strange.
After the lukewarm experience that was Mutek, Tomato wanted to do more live shows with me. I tried to persuade her to join More than Music, but she was unwilling to pay anything, not even a mere 3,500 yen a month for two gigs a week. Instead, she wanted to do something for free.
My previous job had taught me that if you want anything to be decent, you need to pay for it because any type of service involves behind the scenes work and a minimum of organization. That being said, I didn't have much to do at the time, so I thought I might as well just follow her to whatever event she was interested in.
To this day, I do not know how she found out about it, but she discovered there would be a free concert in Nanahari, a tiny venue near the Kamejima River, on Saturday around 13:00. I didn't question her choice, though I should have because it did seem like an odd time for a gig, especially on a Saturday.
The venue’s website showed:
tsubatics
オープニングアクト: なめ丁堀
土曜 13:00/13:30 料金自由(投銭)
tsubatics[b]
OA: Namechoubori[drs/elcs/etc]
「 tsubatics Bass Solo One-man Show」
A description too convoluted for me to attempt understanding it…
We had planned to go to a cute-looking 'organic and natural food' restaurant next to the venue for lunch, but it was unfortunately closed on weekends. The weather was nice that day, which I was thankful for, given Tomato was 25 minutes late. She had already been 40 minutes late the day we went hiking and 20 minutes late the day we went to Mutek. There was a pattern, yet I still continued hanging out with her until it was too late and she one day crossed the line (I will not disclose that situation though).
Once she finally showed up, we had 30 minutes to eat and went to a tiny canteen specializing in Hamburg steak and pasta. I don’t remember the name, but it was run by an old couple. They gave us rice with our pasta because that’s what they do in Japan...
tsubatics
Nanahari, Chuo City, Shinkawa
When we arrived at Nanahari, something felt odd. The venue was really tiny, and all the attendees seemed to know each other very well. It was mostly young couples with young children, families.
Tomato seemed unfazed, while I was unhinged. It was clearly a 'family and friends' event, and people were stealing glances at us. I was too dazed to suggest that we leave and Tomato clearly did not mind being out of place, so we simply sat on a bench among the other attendees. I could feel their curious eyes drilling holes into my skull; I am very visible, especially in Japan. I really stuck out like a sore thumb.
Some kid came up to us and asked us to sign his paper crane, which we did. I wrote 'bonjour,' and he casually chatted with us in Japanese. Neither Tomato nor I were any good at speaking nihongo, so we silently assented to whatever he was blabbering about.
The boy then went on stage and started playing around with the drums for a dreadful 10 minutes, while all the adults laughed at his whimsical attitude and childish jokes. He must have been around 7, with some basic notions of how to play the drums, but it was definitely not honey to my ears. I think Tomato was amused.
Once the kid was done fooling around, his father took the stage and started his solo bass gig. His music was good—nothing too fancy, but he was experimenting. I’m not sure if he’s a professional player trying out new stuff or simply a talented amateur who got tired of practicing alone at home. It felt so bizarre realizing that this was a casual event organized simply to entertain his friends on a Saturday afternoon.
Why and how was this event made public? The room was too small to make an escape without being noticed by everyone present, but I really hated being there. Among them. I wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear, while Tomato remained stoic, pretending to be focused on the music.
Once the concert was over, the crowd congratulated the bassist and then resumed the chit-chat they had to interrupt earlier when the kid got on stage to torture our eardrums. Tomato seemed a bit out of it, so I simply stood up and left, not caring if she would follow me. I needed to get out.
Outside, I noticed that some families were following. I guess they needed to head home quickly because babies have no patience and are high maintenance. You can’t stay out too long with them, obviously.
Tomato had followed me, so I asked her if we could get away from these people quickly. I wanted to put all this awkwardness behind me as soon as possible. As we walked toward the station, I kept going on about how uncomfortable it was being in that small room, surrounded by these Japanese families. Tomato simply shrugged. Yes, she found it awkward, but she didn’t regret going. She didn’t care about anything. Good for her.
I would later learn that she has no shame anyway. She seemed to have enjoyed the music; I didn’t find it transcendent. Definitely not worth the embarrassment of sitting in that environment for an hour.
The attendees probably wondered why these two foreigners crashed at their little get-together. I’d rather not think about what they might have said behind our backs after we left. I’d rather forget this afternoon ever happened, yet here I am, writing about it.
Atmosphere: awkward/10
Music: like father, like son/10
Beverages: not that type of place/10
Final judgment: The embarrassment is still troubling me.