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EUROPEAN SHAKUHACHI SOCIETY<br />
Newsletter: Issue 6<br />
October 2007<br />
Well, the 2 nd ESS Summer School was a roaring success, and we have<br />
a wonderful article telling us all about from Adrian Bain. Veronique<br />
Piron and Jim Franklin have also written an article about the Summer<br />
School, from an organiser’s perspective, which we have decided to<br />
provide separately from the main newsletter, due to its length. This will<br />
be available very soon at www.shakuhachisociety.eu for you to<br />
download into the language <strong>of</strong> your choice (English, French or German).<br />
We have some fabulous and varied articles in this issue, which really<br />
demonstrate how interest in the shakuhachi is growing in Europe.<br />
Adrian has, very kindly, also written about the Summer School in<br />
Prague, and about his recent travels to Japan (for which his wife has<br />
provided a translation into Japanese which will also appear separately<br />
on the ESS website very soon, a<strong>long</strong> <strong>with</strong> a Japanese translation <strong>of</strong> his<br />
article on the Colmar Summer School); Alfred Lerch has written about a<br />
shakuhachi-making workshop held at a Zen monastery in Germany;<br />
Clive Bell has given us a review <strong>of</strong> a re-release <strong>of</strong> Yamaguchi’s ‘A Bell<br />
Ringing in the Empty Sky’. It is truly a bumper issue!<br />
I hope everyone enjoys reading this newsletter - please send feedback<br />
(<strong>of</strong> any kind!) to me at stephaniehiller9@yahoo.co.uk. And also,<br />
please send any articles, photos, clippings, CD/book/concert reviews,<br />
etc, etc, for the next issue (Issue 7, January 2008) to me at the same<br />
address. Please send by end <strong>of</strong> November at the latest to allow<br />
time for translations to be done. (Unless, <strong>of</strong> course, you are able to<br />
do the translations yourself which would be marvelous!).<br />
Happy reading!<br />
Stephanie<br />
1
Index<br />
Pages 3-9<br />
ESS Summer School 2007 by Adrian Bain<br />
Pages 10-12<br />
CD Review – Re-release <strong>of</strong> Yamaguchi’s ‘A Bell<br />
Ringing in the Empty Sky’ by Clive Bell<br />
Pages 13-28<br />
A <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> Adventure in Japan by Adrian Bain<br />
Pages 29-34<br />
Zazen and <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> Making by Alfred Lerch<br />
Pages 34-35<br />
Tribute to YOKOYAKA Katsuya’s mother<br />
Pages 35-40<br />
Prague Summer School 2007 by Adrian Bain<br />
2
E.S.S. Summer School 2007<br />
by Adrian Bain<br />
On my way from England, waiting for my sixth train <strong>of</strong> the day at the<br />
French station <strong>of</strong> Colmar, a stranger came towards me and asked me in<br />
a wonderful French accent “Shaku’achi?”. I was taken by surprise.<br />
“Pardon?”, I asked nervously. “Shaku’achi?”, he repeated.<br />
“Er…yes…how did you know?”. He pointed to a 2.5 ji-nashi behind me,<br />
sticking out <strong>of</strong> the top <strong>of</strong> my rucksack. Oh! Oh, yes - a bit <strong>of</strong> a clue! “Me<br />
too!”, he said. One became two and Rémi <strong>of</strong> Brittany and I continued<br />
together on the last leg <strong>of</strong> our <strong>journey</strong> to the 2007 <strong>European</strong> <strong>Shakuhachi</strong><br />
Society Summer School.<br />
We had arrived quite early at the<br />
Grand Hotel in Munster and over<br />
the afternoon and evening<br />
observed the arrival <strong>of</strong> <strong>Shakuhachi</strong><br />
players from all over Europe and<br />
Japan. This influx was later<br />
observed from the comfort <strong>of</strong> the<br />
hotel bar. I noticed that it is<br />
possible to recognise a <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> Furuya & Watanabe Photo by Adrian Bain<br />
player when they walk into a room,<br />
even <strong>with</strong>out their instrument. There was a jovial atmosphere in the bar<br />
as more and more people arrived throughout the evening, some knew<br />
each other, many new acquaintances. I have never seen so many<br />
<strong>Shakuhachi</strong> players!<br />
Furuya<br />
Photo by Annelies Nederbragt<br />
We were distributed between rooms in the<br />
hotel and surrounding cabins; many crept<br />
quietly into their new lodgings in the dark,<br />
once the bar had closed, <strong>with</strong> no idea as to<br />
who the other occupants were. At breakfast,<br />
I was talking to a new acquaintance for half<br />
an hour and then realised we had<br />
unknowingly slept in the same cabin<br />
overnight. Except that he hadn’t actually<br />
slept much due to the multi-lingual snoring<br />
<strong>of</strong> the four other strangers in the room. He<br />
was already arranging to change rooms!<br />
It is thanks to Jim Franklin and Veronique<br />
Piron that we were there at all. Only days before they were informed<br />
that the place we were to be staying and playing at, the Maison du<br />
Kleebach, had not completed its renovations and resembled a building<br />
site. We could still hold our classes there, but no accommodation would<br />
be available. How do you find accommodation for around 60 people, in<br />
3
only days, near to where we would hold the classes, <strong>with</strong> transport<br />
available and food provided? But Jim and Veronique did it! The Grand<br />
Hotel would accommodate and feed everybody.<br />
A pattern formed throughout the week. A problem (not <strong>of</strong> our making)<br />
would arise, Jim and Veronique would rush around, find a solution and,<br />
<strong>with</strong> “clink, clink” on a glass at mealtime to attract everyone’s attention,<br />
Jim would announce the latest plans. I cannot imagine Jim or Veronique<br />
enjoyed the week as much as everyone else did. Thanks to them, we<br />
could.<br />
Every morning a caravan <strong>of</strong><br />
cars would leave the Grand<br />
Hotel (I don’t think anyone<br />
was ever left behind); it<br />
streamed to the Maison du<br />
Kleebach, a beautiful<br />
mountain retreat (cum<br />
building site). Once the<br />
renovation works have<br />
been completed, it will be a<br />
superb venue for musical<br />
Trying to quieten the alarm!<br />
Photo by Adrian Bain residents. While we were<br />
there, however, rain made it<br />
precarious walking through the building site mud, navigating between<br />
diggers and huge mounds <strong>of</strong> earth. The building works also introduced<br />
a spate <strong>of</strong> power cuts and fire alarm cacophony to accompany our<br />
playing.<br />
We commenced each day <strong>with</strong> robuki. Rooooo. It was difficult to hear<br />
which sound was mine and soon realised I must just blow and have<br />
confidence in my sound. Over the week, I started to become aware <strong>of</strong><br />
my sound in a different way, to sense the quality <strong>of</strong> my Ro <strong>with</strong>out<br />
necessarily being able to hear my own Ro from the many.<br />
After each day’s robuki, we<br />
would study a piece to be<br />
played at the student’s<br />
concert, a simplified<br />
arrangement by Jim Franklin<br />
<strong>of</strong> “Yamato Chôshi”. The<br />
piece introduced me to some<br />
new and interesting<br />
techniques and enabled Jim<br />
to introduce some subtleties<br />
to us (which might take me Robuki<br />
Photo by Veronique Piron<br />
4
another five years to utilise!).<br />
We would then split into (usually) three sessions, <strong>of</strong>fering classes for<br />
different abilities <strong>with</strong> a rotation <strong>of</strong> teachers, <strong>of</strong>fering a mixture <strong>of</strong> styles<br />
and approaches to teaching. Often, I wanted to attend more than one<br />
class simultaneously! Sometimes the planned class would stop on one<br />
point: maybe twenty minutes on meri or kan or correct breathing. I<br />
would try and scribble notes in an attempt to record the gems <strong>of</strong><br />
knowledge being cast to the students so freely. I would film the teacher<br />
playing the piece we were studying. I still feel regret at leaving my<br />
camera battery charging in my room and realising too late as Kakizakai<br />
played a stunning “Yamagoe” to us.<br />
It is impossible to describe how the teachers<br />
helped me and inspired my study. Even<br />
though seeing and hearing the teachers (and<br />
students) made me realise the horizon was<br />
much further away from me and that my<br />
<strong>Shakuhachi</strong> <strong>journey</strong> didn’t have an end, it did<br />
not deter me, but made my resolve stronger.<br />
I should not think <strong>of</strong> the <strong>journey</strong>, just <strong>of</strong> each<br />
moment when I practice.<br />
So, all I can do (and I hope they will forgive<br />
me) is to give a short impression <strong>of</strong> each<br />
teacher.<br />
Kariya Sozan-san<br />
Photo by Alain Natalis<br />
The teaching <strong>of</strong> Furuya Teruo-san was full <strong>of</strong><br />
kind, enthusiastic energy. He was always<br />
genial and <strong>with</strong> a contagious smile.<br />
Kakizakai Kaoru-san’s teaching was an inspiration, seemingly knowing<br />
the solution to a student’s problem before they had finished asking the<br />
question.<br />
Kariya Sozan-san showed amazing skills and<br />
dexterity. He was always the most smartly<br />
dressed, no matter what the occasion!<br />
Jim Franklin’s teaching was full <strong>of</strong> energy and<br />
clarity. Even <strong>with</strong> the concerns arising from the<br />
summer school, once he was teaching, his<br />
focus was total.<br />
Veronique Pirons’s teaching was especially<br />
helpful in a class where students could ask any<br />
I’ve forgotten what was<br />
being demonstrated!<br />
Photo by Adrian Bain<br />
5
questions about areas that were troubling them (predictably one topic<br />
we all agreed on was achieving kan notes). Veronique helped us <strong>with</strong><br />
foundation skills, demonstrating how to overcome common difficulties.<br />
Throughout the week, Watanabe Haruko<br />
san (Koto) and Oonishi Mizuka san (Koto<br />
and Shamisen) accompanied the teachers<br />
and students. Many, including myself,<br />
found it very special to have an<br />
opportunity to play <strong>with</strong> Koto and<br />
Shamisen, especially <strong>with</strong> such esteemed<br />
players. They both gave immeasurable<br />
help and constant encouragement.<br />
Kakizakai<br />
Photo by Adrian Bain<br />
Philip Horan, from Ireland, gave a hugely popular lesson on <strong>Shakuhachi</strong><br />
and Irish music, playing beautifully on both <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> and a Shakalute<br />
(an attachment to a western flute that allows it to be played vertically,<br />
like a <strong>Shakuhachi</strong>, but utilising the western flute’s keys).<br />
Rooooooo…<br />
Photo by Alain Natalis<br />
Daniel Lifermann has a wonderful<br />
sound and skill; his calmness and<br />
lectures about breathing and<br />
spirituality were a valuable<br />
contribution to the summer school.<br />
A<strong>long</strong> <strong>with</strong> Kees Kort’s zest for life blowing through his <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> and<br />
the elegant playing <strong>of</strong> Jean Francois Lagrost, everyone was exposed to<br />
hundreds <strong>of</strong> years <strong>of</strong> combined <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> study being expressed in<br />
individual ways. There were so many beautiful players to listen and to<br />
learn from. It’s interesting to note how unique everyone’s style and tone<br />
was. Many players, many styles; each person gave freely <strong>of</strong> a<br />
knowledge that has taken time<br />
and determination to acquire.<br />
With such a mix <strong>of</strong> nationalities,<br />
the conversation gravitated<br />
towards English, <strong>with</strong> many<br />
people assisting <strong>with</strong> translations<br />
when required. There must have<br />
been many language translation<br />
combinations between English,<br />
French, Dutch, German, Czech,<br />
Japanese…probably more.<br />
Students’ Concert<br />
Photo by Alain Natalis<br />
6
At lunchtimes, the trail <strong>of</strong> cars would drive down the mountains, back<br />
the Grand hotel for a large lunch, which unfortunately had a soporific<br />
effect for the early afternoon sessions.<br />
Furuya-san and Kakizakai-san<br />
Photo by Adrian Bain<br />
After each afternoon session, we<br />
would again return to the Grand<br />
Hotel for a practice (or snooze)<br />
prior to a large dinner. Each<br />
night after dinner, we would<br />
attend a concert.<br />
The <strong>first</strong> concert was an open<br />
mike session in the Grand Hotel,<br />
when anyone could entertain<br />
<strong>with</strong> a piece <strong>of</strong> their choice.<br />
People <strong>of</strong> all abilities and<br />
experience played, <strong>with</strong> different length <strong>Shakuhachi</strong>, <strong>with</strong> violin, by<br />
score, by improvisation, traditional and modern. Even though I have little<br />
experience, I decided to play “Tamuke”. It is a difficult piece and one I<br />
had only been studying for a few weeks, so I knew it would be a flawed<br />
performance, but I enjoyed the challenge <strong>of</strong> playing in front <strong>of</strong> so many<br />
people, especially such prestigious players. My legs were shaking and<br />
my knees knocked together, but I do know that giving a live<br />
performance is a lesson in itself.<br />
There was very little time to practice or review what we had studied<br />
during the day. As a result, there were nightly echoes <strong>of</strong> <strong>Shakuhachi</strong>,<br />
<strong>of</strong>ten beyond midnight. The normal residents <strong>of</strong> the Grand Hotel were<br />
not very happy and a curfew on playing at night had to be imposed.<br />
It was sometimes difficult <strong>with</strong> the<br />
damp weather to practice outside,<br />
but there were early morning calls<br />
to rise from <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> amongst<br />
the trees in nearby park. Walking<br />
through the park, a careful<br />
observer would have been able to<br />
spot players lurking behind trees<br />
and bushes blowing to the leaves. Students’ Concert<br />
There were others who chose to<br />
perform Tai Chi in preparation for another busy day.<br />
Photo by Adrian Bain<br />
The next evening’s concert was given by the teachers in the Town Hall,<br />
in preparation for their public concert the following evening. It was my<br />
<strong>first</strong> time to hear most <strong>of</strong> the teachers play continuously as a player, not<br />
as a teacher having to stop to teach us some important point about a<br />
7
piece. It was a special treat to hear Furuya play “Tsuru no Sugomori”<br />
(“The Nesting <strong>of</strong> the Cranes”) as Munster is famed for its cranes and we<br />
had all seen them on the ro<strong>of</strong>s around.<br />
The teachers’ Concert was held in the<br />
impressive church in Munster (<strong>with</strong><br />
nesting cranes on the ro<strong>of</strong>). The church<br />
was full <strong>of</strong> locals, most <strong>of</strong> whom I doubt<br />
knew what to expect. I expect that every<br />
one <strong>of</strong> them would have been<br />
astounded by the elegant traditional<br />
Koto Photo by Adrian Bain<br />
costumes, the grace <strong>of</strong> the performers<br />
and the emotion and passion <strong>of</strong> their music. “Shika no Tône” was<br />
breathtaking, as the <strong>first</strong> lines echoed from opposite sides <strong>of</strong> the church,<br />
apparently from nowhere, <strong>with</strong> the audience looking around to see<br />
where the sound was coming from. A beautiful piece written by Jim<br />
Franklin, “Takeshin 5.1”, combined the power <strong>of</strong> the church organ<br />
(played by Jim) and five shakuhachi. It made my hairs stand up on my<br />
neck; it was extremely moving. The entire evening was extremely<br />
special and I am sure the audience will never forget it.<br />
Learning is always tiring<br />
and as the end <strong>of</strong> the<br />
summer<br />
school<br />
approached and <strong>with</strong> the<br />
arrival <strong>of</strong> some sunshine,<br />
the tempo noticeably<br />
slowed. The afternoon<br />
before the final concert<br />
was perfect for relaxing:<br />
some were practicing,<br />
Students’ Concert<br />
Photo by Alain Natalis<br />
some were sleeping in the sun, while others were chatting in groups.<br />
The final concert was given by the students in the Town Hall. The<br />
students performed pieces they had studied in the various groups<br />
throughout the week. There was a mixture <strong>of</strong> improvisational,<br />
contemporary and traditional pieces. For some students it was their <strong>first</strong><br />
ever live performance.<br />
Afterwards, we all retired to a small bar for a well-earned drink and a<br />
last chat amongst new friends before each <strong>of</strong> our departures homeward<br />
in the morning. After all the hard work and stress experienced by Jim<br />
and Veronique, one <strong>of</strong> life’s true injustices occurred – by the time Jim<br />
arrived at the bar it had stopped serving and Jim couldn’t even enjoy a<br />
well-deserved drink <strong>with</strong> us at the end <strong>of</strong> a difficult week.<br />
8
The E.S.S. AGM was held during the summer school and it showed that<br />
there is a lot <strong>of</strong> activity going on in establishing the E.S.S. as a valuable<br />
society for us all. The E.S.S. is young and it will undoubtedly grow<br />
strongly. The next summer school, wherever it will be hosted, will be<br />
even better as we learn from each other.<br />
It’s fascinating to see the range <strong>of</strong> ages and pr<strong>of</strong>essions that attended<br />
the summer school; a mix that might not normally meet if it were not for<br />
a shared interest in the <strong>Shakuhachi</strong>.<br />
There is so much - too much - to remember and it slips away so quickly.<br />
What will I remember the most? I can answer unhesitatingly - the people.<br />
The <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> is an instrument <strong>of</strong> friendship.<br />
Happy Blowing,<br />
Adrian Bain<br />
P.S. Well…in a few weeks, I’m lucky to be going to the Prague<br />
<strong>Shakuhachi</strong> Summer School 2007 in the Czech Republic. I can’t believe<br />
my good fortune and the patience <strong>of</strong> my wife! I will let you know how I<br />
get on.<br />
Footnotes<br />
There are many photos and small video clips <strong>of</strong> the summer school. As I<br />
opted for quantity over quality, the video clips are not high quality<br />
visually, but the sound is good. They capture some <strong>of</strong> the lessons<br />
(useful for study) and excerpts from the concerts. There are over 4GB <strong>of</strong><br />
files so far, so distribution is an issue.<br />
The new E.S.S. website is under development. It may be that we can<br />
put the photos and video files on the site so that people can choose<br />
what they want. Until the new site is ready, the E.S.S. website continues<br />
to show the 2007 Summer School information. However, please check<br />
the Events section <strong>of</strong> the site as new events are being published there.<br />
The <strong>European</strong> <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> Society Summer School 2007<br />
Photo by “An innocent bystander”<br />
9
GORO YAMAGUCHI<br />
SHAKUHACHI MUSIC: A BELL RINGING IN THE EMPTY SKY<br />
NONESUCH EXPLORER CD<br />
BY CLIVE BELL<br />
Goro Yamaguchi (1933-99) studied the shakuhachi <strong>with</strong> his father, Shiro<br />
Yamaguchi, during the second world war, and quickly rose to<br />
recognition as a leading player. In 1967 he taught for a year at<br />
Wesleyan University in Connecticut, and while in the US recorded two<br />
honkyoku pieces in New York: “Sokaku-Reibo” and “Koku-Reibo”. In<br />
1969 these appeared on an LP in the Nonesuch Explorer Series, titled A<br />
Bell Ringing In The Empty Sky (the title taken from a colourful pseudotranslation<br />
<strong>of</strong> “Koku-Reibo”). Now Nonesuch have reissued the album<br />
on CD as part <strong>of</strong> their gradual re-release <strong>of</strong> the whole Explorer Series.<br />
The two tracks remain the same; the sleeve notes are unedited, though<br />
a bio <strong>of</strong> Yamaguchi has been added; but the wonderful monochrome<br />
psychedelia <strong>of</strong> the LP sleeve, in which a crane appears to fly through a<br />
geisha’s hair-do, has been replaced by a 1961 photo <strong>of</strong> a tiny fishing<br />
boat on the Inland Sea.<br />
It’s probably hard to overstate the impact <strong>of</strong> Yamaguchi’s original LP in<br />
the West. One has to think back to a benighted generation when not<br />
only had no one ever heard a shakuhachi, but the idea that Japanese<br />
music might have depth to it, that it might have a rigour that could stand<br />
a<strong>long</strong>side <strong>European</strong> classical performance, was thrillingly new and<br />
taboo-busting. Inviting Yamaguchi to teach at Wesleyan was a<br />
pioneering move, and A Bell Ringing was the <strong>first</strong> widely available<br />
recording <strong>of</strong> a completely new music. It took its place a<strong>long</strong>side Ravi<br />
Shankar, Stockhausen and Hawkwind on the shelves <strong>of</strong> discerning<br />
record buyers, and aspiring music-makers and composers marvelled at<br />
its qualities. By 1977 a portion <strong>of</strong> the recording was included on a<br />
compilation <strong>of</strong> “Earth Music” aboard the Voyager II spacecraft. Having<br />
conquered hip record stores, Yamaguchi was <strong>of</strong>f to new galaxies.<br />
How does Yamaguchi’s record stand up now, forty years on? The <strong>first</strong><br />
thing you notice is the overall length: at under thirty minutes, this is what<br />
we would now term an EP. Nonesuch clearly had no extra material in<br />
the vaults to flesh out the CD version. Having said that, Yamaguchi’s<br />
versions <strong>of</strong> these classic pieces are unusually <strong>long</strong>: “Sokaku” at thirteen<br />
minutes and “Koku” at fifteen represent extended explorations. The<br />
sleevenotes, despite being written by respected ethnomusicologist and<br />
broadcaster Fumio Koizumi, are misleading and, when it comes to<br />
scales, hilariously inaccurate. However there is an honourable tradition<br />
<strong>of</strong> album notes getting these things wrong, and if a sleevenote writer<br />
starts talking about scales it’s almost guaranteed that what follows will<br />
be nonsense.<br />
10
Yamaguchi performs both pieces on a 1.8 shakuhachi. His playing<br />
always has poise; it is elegant and cool to the point <strong>of</strong> chilliness.<br />
“Sokaku” (Depicting The Cranes In Their Nest) is largely static, in that<br />
Yamaguchi stays in one small pitch area for a <strong>long</strong> time, but highly<br />
ornamented – a picture <strong>of</strong> young cranes bickering at home and not<br />
taking flight. After ten minutes the piece calms down and moves to the<br />
lower octave. “Koku” spends more time in this lower octave and is<br />
generally slower and more meditative. It’s also a warmer, more human<br />
performance, and Yamaguchi’s playing features some lovely, subtle<br />
dynamics.<br />
Even at the date <strong>of</strong> its <strong>first</strong> release, a Western listener might have<br />
judged that Yamaguchi’s shakuhachi style was not the only game in<br />
town. In 1967 the New York label Lyrichord issued Japanese<br />
Masterpieces For The <strong>Shakuhachi</strong>, an LP <strong>of</strong> five pieces from<br />
anonymous monks at Kyoto temples (this is also available on CD). At<br />
the time this may have seemed an inferior record: the performances are<br />
rough and unsophisticated, the sleevenotes dodgy as ever (Fuke monks<br />
are termed “tootling preachers”), and the vinyl pressing <strong>of</strong> poor quality.<br />
Now things look a little different. Yamaguchi represents a shiny new<br />
breed <strong>of</strong> player, both refining and formalising the old techniques so that<br />
the instrument is ready to don bow tie and tails, as it were, and enter the<br />
Western concert hall. Lyrichord’s unnamed tootlers, on the other hand,<br />
are playing on their home ground. The two monks playing “Koku” are<br />
inside the Meianji temple, and their temple bell is incorporated into the<br />
track. This music has some function in their daily life, and plenty <strong>of</strong><br />
meaning as an activity: not a show for an audience but a spiritual<br />
exercise. Whereas Yamaguchi’s music floats free in an empty sky,<br />
divorced from context. What is it for? It’s for consumption, live or on<br />
record, by the new audience, according to Western models <strong>of</strong> art music.<br />
The effect <strong>of</strong> Yamaguchi’s record on his Western listeners is one thing,<br />
but what about its effect on Japan? By 1969 Japan had invested pretty<br />
much a century in a massive adoption <strong>of</strong> Western culture and<br />
technology. Beginning <strong>with</strong> the import <strong>of</strong> brass bands, new musical<br />
ideas had taken root: the importance <strong>of</strong> playing in tune; formalised and<br />
fixed versions <strong>of</strong> pieces; large groupings <strong>of</strong> instruments, or orchestras;<br />
and concert halls where the audience politely listens in silence. Any <strong>of</strong><br />
these notions would have astonished our old friend, the tootling Komuso<br />
player beneath his basket hat. But by the 1960s Japanese performers <strong>of</strong><br />
<strong>European</strong> classical music were receiving international acclaim, Toru<br />
Takemitsu was on the point <strong>of</strong> acceptance as a world class composer,<br />
and the figure <strong>of</strong> the globetrotting concert hall soloist was completely<br />
familiar to Japanese audiences. Yamaguchi’s performance, highly<br />
polished and beautifully recorded, slots into place as an early step in<br />
11
Japan’s resumption <strong>of</strong> confidence in its own traditional culture. The<br />
Tokyo Olympics were in 1964; around 1976 my own teacher, Kohachiro<br />
Miyata, went onstage solo at the Carnegie Hall.<br />
There’s no question that Yamaguchi was one among a generation <strong>of</strong><br />
marvellous shakuhachi performers, and it’s fascinating to see how they<br />
differ from one another. Another version <strong>of</strong> “Koku”, played by Katsuya<br />
Yokoyama, is on the excellent The Art Of The <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> on Ocora.<br />
One year younger than Yamaguchi, Yokoyama was 63 when he made<br />
this record. He continued studying <strong>with</strong> the Zen master Watazumi until<br />
the latter’s death; this must have kept Yokoyama in touch <strong>with</strong> the down<br />
to earth Fuke monk tradition, and its concerns <strong>with</strong> matters other than<br />
music. Yokoyama retains an unpredictable exuberance in his playing.<br />
His crane piece (“Tsuru No Sugomori”) attacks the famous passages <strong>of</strong><br />
flutter tonguing and tremolos <strong>with</strong> an animated, improvisational attitude.<br />
Thirty years earlier, Yamaguchi sounds correct and formal, a musician<br />
on his best behaviour, as if slightly in awe <strong>of</strong> the future status <strong>of</strong> his<br />
recording.<br />
……………………………………….<br />
“When you hear some music or hear a sound if, for some reason, you<br />
like it very well the reason is because that sound is in balance, or in<br />
harmony, <strong>with</strong> your pulse. And so, when making a sound yourself, you<br />
try to imitate the various different sounds <strong>of</strong> the universe; but what you<br />
are finally making is your own sound - the sound <strong>of</strong> yourself.”<br />
WATAZUMI<br />
…………………………………<br />
12
A <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> Adventure in Japan<br />
by Adrian Bain<br />
I haven’t been playing the <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> for very <strong>long</strong>; only since last<br />
August. At certain times I have stopped and wondered how on earth it<br />
all started. One <strong>of</strong> those occasions was this June, as I sat in front <strong>of</strong><br />
Okuda Atsuya in Zensabo, his teaching studio in Kokubunji, Tokyo.<br />
Okuda sensei was half-way through Tamuke, playing on a large jinashi<br />
nobe <strong>Shakuhachi</strong>. I was shocked at the<br />
beauty and melancholy <strong>of</strong> his playing and<br />
near to tears, as I asked myself what<br />
unlikely set <strong>of</strong> events had brought me<br />
here.<br />
Okuda Atsuya Photo by Adrian Bain<br />
My <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> <strong>journey</strong> started when my<br />
wife, who is Japanese, bought me CD <strong>of</strong> a<br />
Japanese band called Kotoza.<br />
<strong>Shakuhachi</strong> is played on some the tracks<br />
and it moved me. I asked her what<br />
instrument it was and she explained what<br />
little she knew <strong>of</strong> the instrument.<br />
Generally speaking, many Japanese<br />
people can be quite unaware <strong>of</strong> the<br />
heritage <strong>of</strong> their music and instruments, a<br />
point made in Christopher Blasdel’s book<br />
“The Single Tone”.<br />
I bought myself a few <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> CDs and the sound started to bother<br />
me. Something was stirring inside me. A few months later, during a<br />
boring afternoon, I started to look around on the Internet at <strong>Shakuhachi</strong>,<br />
to learn a little about the instrument that was subtly affecting me. I<br />
wasn’t aware <strong>of</strong> any intention beyond curiosity. When my wife returned<br />
from a shopping trip, I announced that I had just ordered a <strong>Shakuhachi</strong><br />
on the Internet. I was as surprised as she was. An odd, but important<br />
moment for me.<br />
A week later, it arrived <strong>with</strong> instruction book and<br />
CD. Not knowing enough about the <strong>Shakuhachi</strong>, I<br />
played safe and had ordered a <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> Yuu,<br />
moulded from resin, and now I sat down <strong>with</strong> it<br />
and a book <strong>of</strong> meaningless scores – and a<br />
mountain to climb.<br />
All <strong>of</strong> you will be familiar <strong>with</strong> the search for the<br />
<strong>first</strong> note, the white knuckles through squeezing<br />
too hard, the difficultly in concentrating on the<br />
breath while moving the fingers, the elusive kan<br />
Kiku Day<br />
Photo by Andrea Day<br />
13
and unexpectedly found themselves enjoying learning about the<br />
shakuhachi.<br />
Later the same day, I was taken to an interesting second-hand shop<br />
right outside Hakuraku station near Yokohama. Specialising in<br />
<strong>Shakuhachi</strong>, the owner, Ishida Akio, gave his time freely, discussing the<br />
<strong>Shakuhachi</strong> and playing beautifully. He showed me many fine<br />
<strong>Shakuhachi</strong> <strong>of</strong> varying ages and styles, some <strong>of</strong> which I tried. This was<br />
the <strong>first</strong> time I had played real bamboo <strong>Shakuhachi</strong>!<br />
Next on the itinerary was<br />
a trip to Kamakura, <strong>with</strong><br />
its many temples, shrines<br />
and historical monuments.<br />
The Great Buddha is a<br />
bronze statue <strong>of</strong> Amida<br />
Buddha, standing over 13<br />
metres tall. Cast in 1252,<br />
it is the second largest<br />
Buddha statue in Japan;<br />
the largest is located in<br />
the Todaiji temple in Nara.<br />
Originally the statue was<br />
The Great Buddha<br />
Photo by Adrian Bain<br />
inside a temple, but is now in the open air as the temple was washed<br />
away by a tsunami tidal wave at the end <strong>of</strong> the 15th century. I found a<br />
quiet place amongst some trees near the Great Buddha and played Hi<br />
Fu Mi Cho.<br />
Playing to the Great Buddha<br />
Photo by Mariko Mori<br />
The next excursion I was looking<br />
forward to, albeit nervously, was to Sojiji<br />
in Tsurumi, the headquarters <strong>of</strong> Soto<br />
Zen Buddhism. In 2003, when my dad<br />
died I had spent an entire day in the<br />
grounds <strong>of</strong> Sojiji, wandering around,<br />
thinking and feeling, and it gave me<br />
solace. Little did I know then that a few<br />
years later I would be inside the temple<br />
itself for a day <strong>of</strong> Zazen instruction <strong>with</strong><br />
the monks. The teachings were in<br />
Japanese, which stretched my limited language skills, but <strong>with</strong> the help<br />
<strong>of</strong> a kind Japanese lady, I managed to get through the day. There were<br />
times <strong>of</strong> panic, though, when my legs seemed to be made <strong>of</strong> stone and<br />
my fidgeting resulted in a “Please focus” whack <strong>with</strong> a stick by the<br />
monks.<br />
15
In the grounds <strong>of</strong> Sojiji is the great bell, hidden in the trees above the<br />
temple grounds. The bell weighs nearly 19 tons, has a height <strong>of</strong> nearly<br />
three and a half metres and a diameter <strong>of</strong> nearly two metres, and is said<br />
to have been cast on this spot in 1913. Every minute, the monk stands<br />
and using a rope attached to a huge<br />
log, strikes the bell. The deep, rich<br />
sound can be heard for miles around.<br />
I sat in the woods near the bell and<br />
played <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> for half an hour or<br />
so until, <strong>with</strong> the lowering <strong>of</strong> the sun,<br />
the insects started to feast on me. I left<br />
Sojiji happy and relaxed.<br />
I recommend a trip to Sojiji; it’s one I<br />
will certainly repeat on my next visit to<br />
Japan.<br />
A trip to Kyoto followed, staying in a<br />
ryokan, a traditional inn, dining on<br />
local specialities, presented as works The Bell at Sojiji Photo by Adrian Bain<br />
<strong>of</strong> art. I had wanted to play in Kinkakuji,<br />
the beautiful Golden Pavilion, but it seemed like there were a million<br />
children present, on school trips. I later played <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> before the<br />
Japanese garden in the ryokan. I was starting to become aware <strong>of</strong> the<br />
surprised expressions when I played the <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> in Japan.<br />
Monks at Sojiji<br />
Photo by Adrian Bain<br />
A few days later, I<br />
had a fascinating<br />
stroll around the<br />
famous Tsukiji fish<br />
market in Tokyo,<br />
seeing (and smelling)<br />
the sort <strong>of</strong> scary<br />
creatures normally<br />
seen on nature<br />
programmes. Nearby,<br />
I ate the freshest <strong>of</strong><br />
Sushi and Sashimi,<br />
straight from the sea<br />
that day, via the<br />
market. When lunch<br />
had settled, for the<br />
<strong>first</strong> time I played <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> to my wife’s family. I am pleased to say<br />
that they were surprised at such a sound from an Englishman.<br />
16
I was hoping to meet <strong>with</strong> Kiku Day, as she is currently in Osaka<br />
working on a project for the university, but our schedules and distance<br />
prevented it. However, before leaving England, Kiku helped me to<br />
arrange two lessons <strong>with</strong> Okuda sensei. The <strong>first</strong> lesson takes us back<br />
to the start <strong>of</strong> this article, <strong>with</strong> Okuda movingly playing Tamuke. This<br />
was to be the piece he would teach me <strong>first</strong>.<br />
A Yakuza Cat Guarding Sojiji<br />
Photo by Adrian Bain<br />
It was at this time that I had the feeling<br />
<strong>of</strong> disbelief. It was less than a year since<br />
I surprised myself by ordering a<br />
<strong>Shakuhachi</strong> and now I was before<br />
Okuda, feeling very emotional, having<br />
my two-week <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> adventure in<br />
Japan, playing in beautiful places,<br />
spiritual places, meeting many<br />
<strong>Shakuhachi</strong> players and makers.<br />
Okuda is a most charming and<br />
interesting man. A successful jazz<br />
trumpet player, he turned all <strong>of</strong> his time<br />
and study to the <strong>Shakuhachi</strong>, specifically the jinashi (un-lacquered and<br />
<strong>with</strong>out the use <strong>of</strong> Ji paste to finely tune a bore). His unique style is<br />
called zensabo. Okuda helped me greatly, correcting bad habits I had<br />
acquired while practicing on my own, <strong>of</strong>fering solutions to problems I<br />
had, and teaching in a relaxed, enjoyable manner.<br />
I spent a fruitful two hours <strong>with</strong> this soulful player, working through the<br />
score for Tamuke and having fascinating conversations. I was<br />
desperate to absorb everything I could, scribbling notes, taking photos<br />
and even camera movies <strong>of</strong> techniques and whole songs for study later.<br />
After two hours I walked out ecstatic and exhausted at the same time.<br />
Throughout my time in Japan, I practiced when I could, <strong>of</strong>ten being<br />
chastised by my wife for disturbing other hotel residents late at night. I<br />
would be ordered to stop playing. “Urusai!” – too loud. She doesn’t know,<br />
but I would start again while she was in the shower. Every minute <strong>of</strong><br />
practice counts. Of course, <strong>with</strong> the <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> Yuu being made <strong>of</strong><br />
resin, I could play in the shower, I suppose!<br />
My second lesson <strong>with</strong> Okuda, two days after the <strong>first</strong>, was just as<br />
insightful and exhausting. As my time <strong>with</strong> Okuda was limited, he<br />
suggested we cram as much as possible in and we started to study<br />
Koku, a piece that Okuda said contained a great many important<br />
techniques and should be studied diligently. I am finding it very difficult<br />
and challenging.<br />
17
Okuda said he had a 2.5 jinashi nobe (one-piece) that he had harvested<br />
in November in Nagano ken and that he thought would suit me. I tried it<br />
– it was huge and difficult for my short, sausage-like fingers. Yet the<br />
sound was so mellow. I happily accepted the wonderful instrument. I<br />
think I must have looked very strange on the train, smiling away to<br />
myself.<br />
Before returning to our hotel in Yokohama,<br />
I made a planned diversion to a famous<br />
<strong>Shakuhachi</strong> shop in Mejiro. A superb<br />
place, full <strong>of</strong> all-things-<strong>Shakuhachi</strong> and<br />
more. The staff were very knowledgeable<br />
and helpful and I came away <strong>with</strong> a few<br />
goodies for my new <strong>Shakuhachi</strong>.<br />
Now I am home, I am struggling bravely<br />
<strong>with</strong> the 2.5 jinashi and, curiously, when I<br />
return to the 1.8, find it difficult to play for<br />
a short while. Interesting problems are<br />
present all a<strong>long</strong> the <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> <strong>journey</strong>.<br />
As I conquer one problem, plenty more<br />
present themselves.<br />
I expect it’s true to say that the<br />
<strong>Shakuhachi</strong> is now a part <strong>of</strong> my life…for<br />
the rest <strong>of</strong> my life. And I’m still not quite<br />
sure quite how it happened.<br />
Jinashi Nobe & Enhanced Yuu…and<br />
a Guest<br />
Photo by Adrian Bain<br />
Happy Blowing,<br />
Adrian Bain<br />
P.S. Well…in two days, I’m <strong>of</strong>f to the <strong>European</strong> <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> Summer<br />
School 2007 in France. It will be a novel experience for me to meet so<br />
many <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> players, and quite daunting. I will let you know how I<br />
get on.<br />
L'aventure d'un shakuhachi au Japon<br />
Adrian Bain<br />
Je n’ais pas commencé à jouer du <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> depuis très <strong>long</strong>temps:<br />
seulement depuis août de l’année dernière. Par moments je me suis<br />
demandé comment tout cela avait bien pu commencer. En juin de cette<br />
année, j’étais assis en face d’ Okuda Atsuya dans Zensabo, le studio où<br />
il enseigne à Kokubunji, Tokyo. Okuda Sensei était au milieu de la<br />
partition de Tamuke, jouant sur un grand jinashi nobe <strong>Shakuhachi</strong>. J'ai<br />
été ému jusqu’aux larmes par la beauté et la mélancolie de son<br />
18
interprétation, en me rappelant l’ensemble d'événements improbables<br />
qui m’avaient amenés jusque là.<br />
Mon aventure avec le <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> a commencé quand mon épouse,<br />
qui est japonaise, m'a acheté un CD d’un groupe japonais appelé<br />
Kotoza. Ils jouent du <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> sur certains de leurs morceaux et le<br />
son que j’ai entendu m’a transporté. J’ai demandé à mon épouse de<br />
quoi il s’agissait et elle m’a expliqué qu’elle savait très peu de choses<br />
sur cet instrument. D'une manière générale, beaucoup de japonais<br />
peuvent être tout à fait ignorants de leur héritage musical et<br />
instrumental, remarque faite par Christopher Blasdel dans son livre<br />
« The single Tone ».<br />
Je me suis acheté quelques CD de <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> et le son de l’instrument<br />
a commencé à m’obséder. Quelque chose se mettait en place en moi.<br />
Quelques mois plus tard, pendant un après-midi ennuyeux, j'ai<br />
commencé à regarder sur Internet à la rubrique <strong>Shakuhachi</strong>, pour en<br />
apprendre plus sur l'instrument qui m'affectait subtilement, sans autre<br />
raison que la simple curiosité. Quand mon épouse est rentrée, je lui ai<br />
annoncé que je venais juste de commander un <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> sur Internet.<br />
J'en étais aussi étonné qu’elle, notez le bien. Un moment fort important<br />
pour moi.<br />
Une semaine plus tard, il est arrivé avec le livre et le CD d'instruction.<br />
Ne sachant pas grand chose au sujet du <strong>Shakuhachi</strong>, j'avais joué sur la<br />
sécurité et commandé un Yuu en résine, et étais maintenant avec mon<br />
<strong>Shakuhachi</strong> penché sur un livre couvert de signes inconnus - et devant<br />
une montagne à gravir.<br />
Chacun de vous a connu la recherche de la première note, les<br />
articulations blanches à force de crispation, la difficulté de se concentrer<br />
à la fois sur son souffle et sur le déplacement des ses doigts, les notes<br />
kan évasives, et la notation étrange. Mois de frustrations récompensés<br />
par quelques brefs moments de satisfaction à chaque petit signe de<br />
progrès. Je me réjouissais une fois de voir mon épouse se balancer en<br />
rythme tandis que je jouais - jusqu'à ce que je réalise qu'elle avait des<br />
écouteurs et écoutait de la musique pour couvrir mes sons qui étaient<br />
proches du cri aigu des porcelets ! J'avais besoin d'un pr<strong>of</strong>esseur.<br />
Une difficulté pour moi était d’en trouver un. Je vis dans le fin fond du<br />
Kent et à deux heures de train de Londres, mais c'était pourtant là que<br />
j’ai du me rendre. J'avais fait la connaissance de Kiku Day sur Internet<br />
et elle a accepté gentiment de m'enseigner. Je ne puis exprimer tout ce<br />
que chaque leçon de kiku m’a apporté.<br />
19
Après seulement deux leçons, un autre problème s’est posé à moi, j'ai<br />
dû me déplacer temporairement à Sheffield dans le nord de l'Angleterre,<br />
pour 7 mois de travail, ce qui aurait normalement interrompu mes<br />
leçons avec Kiku Day. Les hasards merveilleux de la vie ont fait que<br />
Kiku se rendait périodiquement à Sheffield pour enseigner. Quelle<br />
chance !<br />
Et ainsi, pendant mon séjour dans le nord, j'ai pu continuer mes leçons<br />
avec Kiku et j'ai pratiqué dans les chambres d'hôtel, conscient du fait<br />
que le son qui raisonnait dans les couloirs vides devait avoir perturbé<br />
plus d’un autre client. Certains <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> Yuu ont été améliorés par<br />
Monty Levenson. Il en a laqué et retouché l'intérieur, et a ajouté un joint<br />
de laiton et de rotin pour en améliorer la solidité (en plus c’et plus joli).<br />
J'en ai reçu un à Noël. Le Yuu + a un son beaucoup plus plein et plus<br />
juste. Au mois de juin, après sept mois d’absence loin de la maison,<br />
mon épouse et moi sommes partis au Japon pour quelques semaines.<br />
J'avais l'intention de tirer le meilleur parti de mon voyage, centré sur le<br />
<strong>Shakuhachi</strong>. La famille de mon épouse, apprenant que j'apprenais le<br />
<strong>Shakuhachi</strong>, avait également organisé quelques voyages pour moi.<br />
Le jour après notre arrivée, ils m'ont conduit dans une ville dans les<br />
montagnes appelée Oimachi Kaneko pour y rencontrer un fabricant et<br />
joueur de <strong>Shakuhachi</strong>, Taizan Ohashi. Il s’est montré généreux de son<br />
temps et de son savoir, parlant, conseillant et jouant pour moi devant un<br />
thé vert.<br />
Plus tard dans la même journée, on m’a conduit dans un intéressant<br />
magasin de seconde main près de la gare de Hakuraku, dans les<br />
enviropnsde de Yokohama. Spécialisé dans le <strong>Shakuhachi</strong>, le<br />
propriétaire, Ishida Akio, m’a accordé librement son temps, discutant de<br />
<strong>Shakuhachi</strong> et jouant admirablement. Il m'a montré beaucoup de<br />
<strong>Shakuhachi</strong> d’époque et de styles variables, j’ai pu en essayer certains.<br />
C'était la première fois que je jouais sur un vrai <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> en bambou !<br />
La prochaine étape était un voyage à Kamakura, avec ses nombreux<br />
temples, tombeaux et monuments historiques. Le grand Bouddha est<br />
une statue en bronze d'Amida Bouddha, s’élevant à plus de 13 mètres<br />
de haut. Erigé en 1252, il est la deuxième plus grande statue de<br />
Bouddha au Japon ; le plus grand est situé dans le temple de Todaiji à<br />
Nara. À l'origine la statue était à l'intérieur d'un temple, mais est<br />
maintenant à l’air libre depuis que le temple a été emporté par une<br />
vague de marée de tsunami à la fin du 15ème siècle.<br />
J'ai trouvé un endroit tranquille entre les arbres, près du grand Bouddha<br />
et ai joué Hi Fu Mi Cho sur mon <strong>Shakuhachi</strong>.<br />
20
La prochaine excursion que j'attendais avec intérêt, et quelque<br />
nervosité, était à Sōji-ji dans Tsurumi, le quartier général du<br />
Bouddhisme Soto Zen. En 2003, quand mon papa est mort j'avais<br />
passé un jour entier à Sōji-ji, à errer, réfléchir et à me laisser aller à<br />
mes sentiments, et cela m’avait apporté de la consolation. Je me<br />
doutais bien peu alors que quelques années après je me retrouverais à<br />
l'intérieur du temple pour une journèe d’initiation au Zazen donnée par<br />
les moines. L’enseignement était en Japonais, ce qui a mis à mal mes<br />
capacités linguistiques limitées, mais avec l'aide d'une aimable dame<br />
japonaise, je suis parvenu à surmonter la difficulté. Il y a bien eu des<br />
périodes de panique, lorsque mes jambes m’ont semblé être faites de<br />
Pierre et quand mes mouvements désordonnés ont eu comme<br />
conséquence des coups de bâton donnés par les moines, pour me<br />
ramener à la concentration.<br />
A Sōji-ji se trouve la grande cloche, cachée dans les arbres au-dessus<br />
du sol du temple. On dit qu’elle pèse près de 19 tonnes, elle mesure<br />
presque trois mètres et demi et a un diamètre de presque deux mètres,<br />
elle a été moulée à cet endroit en 1913. Chaque minute, un moine se<br />
dresse et en tirant une corde reliée à un énorme madrier, frappe la<br />
cloche. Le bruit pr<strong>of</strong>ond peut être entendu à des milles autour du temple.<br />
Je me suis assis dans les bois près de la cloche et ai joué du<br />
<strong>Shakuhachi</strong> pendant une demi-heure et jusqu'à ce que, avec le coucher<br />
du soleil, les insectes aient commencé à se régaler de moi. Je suis parti<br />
de Sōji-ji heureux et détendu.<br />
Je recommande à chacun un voyage à Sōji-ji; lors de ma prochaine<br />
visite au Japon, je ne manquerai pas de m’y rendre à nouveau.<br />
Ensuite il y a eu un voyage vers Kyoto, ou j’ai séjourné dans un ryokan,<br />
une auberge traditionnelle, j’y ai dégusté des spécialités locales,<br />
présentées comme autant d’œuvres d'art. J'ai voulu jouer dans le<br />
Kinkaku-ji, le pavillon d'or, mais on aurait dit qu’il était rempli de millions<br />
d’enfants, en excursion scolaire. J’ai joué plus tard du <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> dans<br />
le jardin japonais du ryokan, et fus de plus en plus étonné de<br />
l’expression des gens lorsque je jouais du <strong>Shakuhachi</strong>.<br />
Quelques jours plus tard, j'ai eu l’occasion de flâner autour du célèbre<br />
et fascinant Tsukiji, marché de poissons de Tokyo, voyant (et sentant)<br />
toutes sortes de créatures effrayantes comme on en observe<br />
normalement dans les documentaires.<br />
Près de là, j'ai pu manger les plus frais des Sushi et Sashimi, en<br />
provenance directe de la mer, via le marché. Quand le déjeuner fut<br />
terminé, j’ai pu pour la première fois jouer devant la famille de mon<br />
21
épouse. Je suis heureux de dire qu'ils ont été étonnés qu’un Anglais<br />
puisse produire de tels sons.<br />
J'espérais rencontrer Kiku Day, étant donné qu’elle se trouvait à ce<br />
moment à Osaka en mission pour son université, mais nos programmes<br />
et la distance m’en ont empêché. Cependant, avant de quitter<br />
l'Angleterre, Kiku m'a aidé à organiser deux leçons avec Okuda Sensei.<br />
La première leçon nous rappelle le début de cet article, avec Okuda<br />
jouant Tamuke. C'était d'être le morceau qu'il m'enseignerait d'abord.<br />
C'est là que j’ai été saisi par un sentiment d’incrédulité, il n’y avait pas<br />
un an que j’avais commandé mon <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> et j’allais rencontrer<br />
Okuda, plein d’émotions, après mon périple de deux semaines, jouant<br />
dans de beaux endroits, empreints de spiritualité, et rencontrant<br />
beaucoup de joueurs et fabricants de <strong>Shakuhachi</strong>.<br />
Okuda est un homme des plus charmants et très intéressant.<br />
Trompettiste de jazz accompli, il a décide de consacrer tout son temps<br />
à l’étude du <strong>Shakuhachi</strong>, spécifiquement du jinashi (non laqué et sans<br />
utilisation de pâte de Ji pour accorder finement l’instrument). La seule<br />
technique qu’il pratique s'appelle zensabo. Okuda m’a aidé<br />
considérablement, corrigeant les mauvaises habitudes j'avais acquises<br />
en pratiquant seul, m'apportant des solutions à mes problèmes, et<br />
m’enseignant d'une façon détendue et agréable.<br />
J'ai passé deux heures fructueuses avec ce joueur émouvant,<br />
travaillant sur la lecture de Tamuke et ayant des conversations<br />
fascinantes. J'essayais désespérément d’absorber toutes les<br />
informations que je pouvais, prenant des notes, des photos et allant<br />
jusqu’à filmer certaines techniques et des morceaux entiers dans le but<br />
de pouvoir en poursuivre l’étude par après. Après deux heures j'ai quitté<br />
le maître, débordant d’enthousiasme et épuisé en même temps.<br />
Tout au <strong>long</strong> de mon séjour au Japon, j'ai pratiqué chaque fois que je<br />
pouvais, et j’ai souvent été grondé par mon épouse, pour avoir dérangé<br />
d'autres clients de l'hôtel jusque tard dans la nuit. Elle me forçait à<br />
cesser de jouer - mais (elle ne le sait pas) je recommençais dès qu'elle<br />
était sous sa douche. Chaque minute de pratique compte.<br />
Naturellement, avec le <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> Yuu j’aurais pu jouer également<br />
dans la douche, je suppose !<br />
Ma deuxième leçon avec Okuda, deux jours plus tard, fut tout aussi<br />
pr<strong>of</strong>itable et épuisante. Sachant que mon temps avec lui était limité,<br />
Okuda m’a suggéré que nous apprenions le plus de choses possibles et<br />
nous avons donc commencé à étudier Koku, un morceau qui selon<br />
Okuda contenait beaucoup de techniques importantes et devait être<br />
22
étudié sans plus attendre. J’ai trouvé qu’il me posait là un bien grand<br />
défi.<br />
Okuda m’a dit qu'il avait un jinashi nobe 2.5 (d'une seule pièce) qu’il<br />
avait coupé en novembre dans Nagano ken et qu'il pensait qu’il me<br />
conviendrait. Je l'ai essayé, il était énorme et difficile à manier avec<br />
mes doigts courts en forme de saucisse mais en même temps le son<br />
était si riche. J’ai accepté l'instrument merveilleux avec bonheur. Je<br />
pense que je devais avoir un air très étrange sur le train, souriant dans<br />
le vague.<br />
Avant le retour à notre hôtel à Yokohama, j'ai fait un détour prévu par<br />
un célèbre magasin de <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> à Mejiro. Un endroit superbe, en<br />
plus des <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> on y trouve de tout. Le personnel était très bien<br />
informé et de bon conseil, je suis revenu avec quelques accessoires<br />
pour mon nouveau <strong>Shakuhachi</strong>.<br />
Maintenant je suis de retour à la maison, je lutte toujours bravement<br />
avec le jinashi 2.5 et, curieusement, quand je reviens aux 1.8, je trouve<br />
qu’il est difficile d’en jouer, enfin, pendant un court moment. Des<br />
problèmes intéressants se présentent tout au <strong>long</strong> du voyage d’initiation<br />
au <strong>Shakuhachi</strong>. Lorsque j’en résous un, d’autres se pressent.<br />
Je pressens que le <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> fait à présent partie de ma vie… pour le<br />
reste de ma vie. Et je ne suis toujours pas tout à fait sûr de la façon<br />
dont tout cela a commencé.<br />
Bon souffle…….<br />
Adrian Bain<br />
P.S. bien, dans deux jours, je pars en France pour les cours d'été<br />
européens de <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> 2007. Ce sera une expérience nouvelle pour<br />
moi de rencontrer tellement de joueurs de <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> à la fois, et tout<br />
à fait intimidante. Je vous ferai savoir la suite.<br />
Ein <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> – Abenteuer in Japan<br />
Adrian Bain<br />
Ich hatte noch gar nicht so lange <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> gespielt: erst seit letztem<br />
August. Immer wieder in bestimmten Momenten habe ich innegehalten<br />
und mich gefragt, wie um alles in der Welt das alles angefangen hat.<br />
Eine dieser Gelegenheiten war im Juni. Ich saß vor<br />
Okuda Atsuya im Zensabo, seinem Unterrichtsraum in Konkubunji,<br />
Tokyo. Okuda sensei hatte Tamuke zur Hälfte gespielt, auf einer großen<br />
Jinashi Nobe <strong>Shakuhachi</strong>. Ich war erschüttert von der Schönheit und<br />
Melancholie seines Spiels, den Tränen nahe. Ich fragte mich, welch<br />
unwahrscheinliche Kette von Ereignissen mich hierher gebracht hatte.<br />
23
Meine <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> – Reise begann, als mir meine Frau – sie ist<br />
Japanerin – eine CD der japanischen Band Kotoza kaufte. Einige<br />
Nummern sind <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> – Stücke. Sie bewegten mich. Ich fragte sie,<br />
welches Instrument das gewesen sei und sie erklärte mir das wenige,<br />
das sie über das Instrument wusste. Im Allgemeinen kennen viele<br />
Japaner ihr musikalisches Erbe und ihre Instrumente kaum. Christopher<br />
Blasdel weist in seinem Buch “The Single Tone” darauf hin.<br />
Ich kaufte mir einige <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> CDs und der Klang begann mich zu<br />
beschäftigen. Etwas in mir regte sich. An einem langweiligen<br />
Nachmittag, einige Monate später, fing ich an im Internet unter<br />
<strong>Shakuhachi</strong> zu stöbern, um etwas über das Instrument zu erfahren, das<br />
mich irgendwie anzog. Ich war mir keiner Absicht bewusst, ausser<br />
Neugier. Als meine Frau von einem Einkauf zurückkam, kündigte ich ihr<br />
an, dass ich gerade im Internet eine <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> bestellt hätte. Ich war<br />
überrascht und sie auch. Ein seltsamer aber wichtiger Augenblick für<br />
mich.<br />
Eine Woche später kam sie an, mit Lehrbuch und CD. Ich wusste nicht<br />
genug über die <strong>Shakuhachi</strong>, wollte sicher gehen und hatte eine<br />
<strong>Shakuhachi</strong> Yuu bestellt, aus Kunstharz gegossen. Ich setzte mich hin<br />
damit und einem Buch unverständlicher Grifftabellen - und hatte einen<br />
Berg zu besteigen.<br />
Jedem von euch wird die Suche nachdem ersten Ton vertraut sein: die<br />
weissen Knöchel, weil man zu sehr aufdrückt, die Schwierigkeit sich auf<br />
den Atem zu konzentrieren, während man die Finger bewegt, die nicht<br />
greifbaren kan Noten und die seltsame Notation. Monatelange<br />
Frustration wird belohnt durch seltene Augenblicke der Zufrieden- heit<br />
über kleine Anzeichen von Fortschritt. Einmal freute ich mich, als ich<br />
meine Frau zu der Musik tanzen sah, während ich spielte – bis ich<br />
bemerkte, dass sie Kopfhörer auf hatte. Sie hörte auf andere Musik, um<br />
meine Klänge auszuschließen, die an das Quietschen von Schweinchen<br />
erinnerten! Ich brauchte einen Lehrer.<br />
Für mich war es schwierig, einen Lehrer zu finden. Ich lebe so weit im<br />
Osten Kents, wie nur möglich und hundert Meter oder so entfernt vom<br />
äussersten Ende Englands. London liegt zwei Bahnstunden entfernt.<br />
Aber gerade dahin musste ich gehen. Ich hatte Kiku Day im Internet<br />
ausgemacht und sie war freundlicherweise bereit, mich zu unterrichten.<br />
Ich kann gar nicht sagen, wieviel Hilfe und Verstehen mir Kiku in jeder<br />
Stunde gab.<br />
Dann zeichnete sich nach nur zwei wertvollen Unterrichtsstunden ein<br />
weiteres mögliches Problem ab. Ich musste vorübergehend nach<br />
24
Sheffield im Norden Englands ziehen, um sieben Monate dort zu<br />
arbeiten. Das hätte meine Stunden bei Kiku Day unterbrochen. Die<br />
seltsamen und ungewöhnlichen Wendungen im Leben zeigten sich, als<br />
Kiku mir sagte, sie führe regelmäßig nach Sheffield um zu unterrichten.<br />
WelchesGlück! Es gibt wirklich unerwartete, wunderbare Muster im<br />
Gewebe des Lebens. Und so schaffte ich es während meiner Zeit im<br />
Norden ein paar weitere Stunden mit Kiku zu haben. Ich übte in<br />
einsamen Hotelzimmern und war mir bewusst, dass der Klang andere<br />
Hotelgäste verblüfft haben musste, wenn er die öden Korridore hinunter<br />
wehte.<br />
Einige <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> Yuu waren von Monty Levenson aufgearbeitet<br />
worden. Er verbesserte und lackierte die Bohrlöcher und fügte eine<br />
Metall-Rattan Verbindung hinzu für zusätzliche Festigkeit. Und es sieht<br />
hübscher aus. Ich bekam eine davon zu Weihnachten. Die<br />
überarbeitete Yuu hat einen volleren Klang und verbesserte Intonation.<br />
In diesem Juni fuhren meine Frau und ich, nach den sieben Monaten<br />
weg von zuhause, s<strong>of</strong>ort für einige Wochen nach Japan. Ich nahm mir<br />
vor, das Beste aus meiner Reise zu machen, aauf die <strong>Shakuhachi</strong><br />
konzentriert. Es war bis zu mir durchgesickert, dass die Familie meiner<br />
Frau auch ein paar Ausflüge für mich geplant hatte, nachdem sie gehört<br />
hatten, dass ich lerne <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> zu spielen.<br />
Am Tag nach unserer Ankunft fuhren sie mich in eine Stadt in den<br />
Bergen, Oimachi Kaneko. Dort konnte ich den <strong>Shakuhachi</strong>-Bauer und -<br />
Spieler Taizan Ohashi treffen. Er ging großzügig mit seiner Zeit und<br />
seinem Wissen um, sprach, beriet und spielte bei Grünem Tee.<br />
Noch am selben Tag wurde ich später zu einem interessanten Secondhand-shop<br />
gebracht. Gleich vor dem Hakuraku Bahnh<strong>of</strong> in der Nähe<br />
von Yokohama. Der Besitzer Ishida Akio hatte sich auf <strong>Shakuhachi</strong><br />
spezialisiert. Er schenkte mir seine Zeit, sprach über die <strong>Shakuhachi</strong><br />
und spielte wundervoll. Er zeigte mir viele gute <strong>Shakuhachi</strong>s aus<br />
verschiedenen Zeiten und Stilen. Einige davon probierte ich aus. Zum<br />
erstenmal hatte ich auf einer richtigen Bambus <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> gespielt!<br />
Als nächstes stand ein Ausflug nach Kamakura auf dem Reiseplan, mit<br />
seinen zahlreichen Tempeln, Schreinen und historischen Monumenten.<br />
Der Große Buddha ist eine Bronzestatue von über 13 Meter Höhe. Er<br />
entstand 1252 und ist die zweitgrößte Buddha -statue in Japan. Die<br />
größte steht im Todaiji Tempel in Nara. Der Great Buddha stand<br />
ursprünglich in einem Tempel. Nun ist er im Freien. Der Tempel wurde<br />
Ende des 15. Jahrhunderts von einer Tsunamiwelle weggespült.<br />
25
Ich fand einen ruhigen Platz unter einigen Bäumen in der Nähe des<br />
Großen Buddha und spielte Hi Fu Mi Cho auf der <strong>Shakuhachi</strong>.<br />
Der nächste Ausflug auf den ich mich freute, wenn auch etwas nervös,<br />
ging nach Sojiji in Tsurumi, dem Zentrum des Soto Zen Buddhismus.<br />
2003, als mein Vater starb, hatte ich einen ganzen Tag in den Anlagen<br />
von Sojiji verbracht, war umher gewandert, hatte meinen Gedanken und<br />
Gefühlen ihren Lauf gelassen. Das gab mir Trost. Damals ahnte ich<br />
noch nicht, dass ich einige Jahre später im Tempel selbst sein würde zu<br />
einem Tag der Einführung in das Zazen mit den Mönchen. Der<br />
Unterricht war in Japanisch, was mich an den Rand meiner begrenzten<br />
Sprachfertigkeiten brachte. Aber mit der Hilfe einer freundlichen<br />
japanischen Dame kam ich durch den Tag. Es gab Zeiten der Panik,<br />
dann, wenn meine Beine aus Stein gemacht schienen und meine<br />
Unruhe zu einem Stockhieb durch die Mönche führte “Bitte<br />
konzentrieren Sie sich”.<br />
Auf dem Gelände von Sojiji, unter Bäumen verborgen, über dem<br />
Tempelbezirk, gibt es die große Glocke. Sie wiegt an die 19 Tonnen, ist<br />
fast dreieinhalb Meter hoch mit einem Durchmesser von fast zwei<br />
Metern. Man sagt, sie wurde auf diesen Platz im Jahr 1913 gegossen.<br />
Jede Minute erhebt sich der Mönch und schlägt die Glocke mit einem<br />
Seil an das ein riesiger Klöppel befestigt ist. Der tiefe, volle Klang ist<br />
kilometerweit zu hören.<br />
Ich saß im Wald nahe der Glocke und spielte <strong>Shakuhachi</strong>, eine halbe<br />
Stunde lang oder so, bis mit der untergehenden Sonne die Mücken sich<br />
an mir ergötzten. Ich verließ Sojiji glücklich und entspannt.<br />
Ich empfehle einen Ausflug nach Sojiji. Bei meinem nächsten<br />
Japanbesuch werde ich ihn sicher wiederholen.<br />
Eine Reise nach Kyoto folgte. Wir übernachteten in einem Ryokan,<br />
einem traditionellen Gasthaus, aßen lokale Spezialitäten, die wie<br />
Kunstwerke serviert wurden. Ich hatte mir gewünscht im Kinkakuji, dem<br />
schönen Goldenen Pavillon zu spielen. Aber es schien so, als wären da<br />
gerade eine Million Kinder zum Schulausflug versammelt. Später spielte<br />
ich <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> vor dem japanischen Garten im Ryokan. Ich begann die<br />
überraschten Äußerungen zu bemerken, wenn ich in Japan <strong>Shakuhachi</strong><br />
spielte.<br />
Einige Tage danach bummelte ich fasziniert über den berühmten<br />
Fischmarkt Tsukiji in Tokyo und sah (und roch) die erschreckenden<br />
Geschöpfe, die man normalerweise in Natursendungen sieht. In der<br />
Nähe aß ich die frischesten Sushis und Sashimis. Die Fische waren am<br />
gleichen Tag vom Meer zum Markt gebracht worden. Nach dem<br />
26
Mittagessen spielte ich zum erstenmal <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> für die Familie<br />
meiner Frau. Sie waren überrascht diesen Klang von einem Engländer<br />
zu hören. Das freute mich.<br />
Ich hatte geh<strong>of</strong>ft Kiku Day zu treffen. Sie arbeitet zu dieser Zeit in<br />
Osaka an einem Projekt für die Universität. Aber unsere Zeitpläne und<br />
die Entfernung verhinderten es. Aber Kiku half mir vor meiner Abreise<br />
aus England, zwei Stunden mit Okuda sensei zu vereinbaren. Die erste<br />
Stunde führt uns zurück zum Anfang dieses Artikels, als Okuda so<br />
bewegend Tamuke spielte. Das sollte das Stück sein, das er mich als<br />
erstes lehrte.<br />
In diesem Augenblick stiegen Zweifel in mir auf. Vor weniger als einem<br />
Jahr hatte ich mich damit überrascht eine <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> zu bestellen.<br />
Und nun saß ich vor Okuda, von meinen Gefühlen bewegt, hatte mein<br />
zweiwöchiges <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> Abenteuer in Japan, spielte an wundervollen<br />
Orten, spirituellen Orten, und traf viele <strong>Shakuhachi</strong>- spieler und<br />
<strong>Shakuhachi</strong>- bauer.<br />
Okuda ist ein höchst bezaubernder und interessanter Mann. Als<br />
erfolgreicher Jazz- Trompeter wandte er all seine Zeit und Übung auf<br />
die <strong>Shakuhachi</strong>, besonders die Jinashi. (Sie ist unlackiert und um ein<br />
Loch endgültig zu intonieren wird keine Ji Paste verwendet). Sein<br />
einzigartiger Stil wird Zensabo genannt. Okuda half mir großartig,<br />
schlechte Gewohnheiten zu korrigieren, die ich mir angewöhnt hatte<br />
während ich für mich übte. Er bot mir Lösungen für meine Probleme an<br />
und unterrichtete in einer entspannten, angenehmen Art.<br />
Ich verbrachte zwei fruchtbare Stunden mit diesem seelenvollen<br />
Musiker. Wir arbeiteten die Noten von Tamuke durch und hatten<br />
faszinierende Gespräche. Verzweifelt versuchte ich alles aufzunehmen,<br />
was ich konnte. Ich kritzelte Noten, fotografierte und filmte sogar<br />
Techniken und ganze Lieder um sie später zu studieren. Nach zwei<br />
Stunden ging ich hinaus, begeistert und erschöpft in einem.<br />
Während meiner ganzen Zeit in Japan übte ich wann immer ich konnte.<br />
Oft bekam ich heftige Vorwürfe von meiner Frau, ich würde so spät in<br />
der Nacht andere Hotelgäste stören. Ich müsse aufhören zu spielen.<br />
Aber -(sie weiß es nicht) ich fing wieder an während sie duschte. Jede<br />
Minute üben zählt. Natürlich könnte ich mit der Plastik- <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> in<br />
der Dusche spielen, vermutlich!<br />
Meine zweite Stunde mit Okuda, zwei Tage nach der ersten, war<br />
ebenso voller Einsichten und Erschöpfung. Da meine Zeit mit Okada<br />
begrenzt war, schlug er vor, so viel wie möglich hineinzupacken und wir<br />
27
egannen, Koku zu studieren. Okuda sagte, das Stück enthalte viele<br />
wichtige Techniken und solle fleissig geübt werden. Ich finde es sehr<br />
herausfordernd.<br />
Okuda sagte, er hätte eine 2,5 Jinashi Nobe (Flöte in einem Stück),<br />
deren Bambus er im November im Bezirk von Nagano geerntet hatte<br />
und von der er glaube sie passe mir. Ich probierte sie. Sie war riesig<br />
und für meine kleinen wurstähnlichen Finger schwierig zu greifen. Aber<br />
der Klang war so sanft. Ich nahm das wundervolle Instrument beglückt<br />
an. Ich glaube, ich muss im Zug sehr seltsam ausgesehen haben, wie<br />
ich so vor mich hin lächelte.<br />
Bevor ich zu unserem Hotel in Yokohama zurückkehrte, hatte ich einen<br />
Abstecher zu einem berühmten <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> Laden in Mejiro geplant.<br />
Ein herrlicher Ort voller <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> Zubehör und noch mehr. Die<br />
Bedienung war sehr kundig und hilfreich und ich kam mit einigen guten<br />
Dingen für meine neue <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> heraus.<br />
Jetzt bin ich zuhause und kämpfe tapfer mit der 2,5 Jinashi.<br />
Seltsamerweise finde ich es schwierig kurze Zeit auf der 1,8<br />
<strong>Shakuhachi</strong> zu spielen. Interessante Probleme sind auf der<br />
<strong>Shakuhachi</strong> Reise stets präsent. Sobald ich ein Problem löse, tauchen<br />
viele andere auf.<br />
Ich glaube, ich kann wirklich sagen, die <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> ist jetzt Teil meines<br />
Lebens......für den Rest meines Lebens. Und ich weiss immer noch<br />
nicht genau, wie es passierte.<br />
Frohes Blasen,<br />
Adrian Bain<br />
P.S. Gut....in zwei Tagen fahre ich zur Europäischen <strong>Shakuhachi</strong><br />
Sommerschule 2007 in Frankreich. Es wird eine neuartige Erfahrung<br />
für mich sein, so vielen <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> Spielern zu begegnen, und<br />
ziemlich beängstigend. Ich werde euch wissen lassen, wie es mir<br />
ergangen ist.<br />
28
……………………………………………….<br />
“Seek the sound which is evoked from <strong>with</strong>in….improved, polished and<br />
developed inside yourself. The shakuhachi demands <strong>of</strong> you your<br />
candid self – thus, put your whole body into the shakuhachi. Inhale<br />
once and expire. There is no second chance in life. Each exhalation<br />
must be pure.” MIYAMOTO MUSASHI<br />
……………………………………<br />
Zazen and <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> making<br />
By Alfred Lerch<br />
A <strong>Shakuhachi</strong>-making seminar took place in the Hokuozan Sogenji<br />
monastery in Liebenau, Germany on the weekend <strong>of</strong> the 31.8 - 2.9.<br />
Although playing the <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> originates from the tradition <strong>of</strong> the Zen<br />
Buddhism, this weekend was a rare opportunity to experience these two<br />
traditions together. We had one hour Zazen in the early morning and<br />
one hour in the evening <strong>with</strong> ShoE, the leader <strong>of</strong> the monastery. During<br />
the day we built a <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> under the instruction <strong>of</strong> Fritz Nagel, an<br />
experienced flute maker.<br />
The idea and organisation <strong>of</strong> this weekend came from Mario Trinkhaus,<br />
from the Zen Dojo Tegel, Antai-an. He knew the Hokuozan Sogenji and<br />
anticipated, quite correctly, that it would be a beautiful experience to<br />
build a <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> at this place.<br />
I had a <strong>long</strong> way to travel from Switzerland to Liebenau, so I started<br />
early in the morning to be there on time. I got <strong>of</strong>f the bus in Liebenau, on<br />
time, at 4 p.m. The great surprise came, as I asked for the castle<br />
Eickh<strong>of</strong>: I had travelled to the wrong Liebenau. There are at least 3 <strong>of</strong><br />
them in Germany, as I now know. The <strong>long</strong> <strong>journey</strong> from Liebenau to<br />
Liebenau was probably the test <strong>of</strong> whether I was ready to do the<br />
seminar or not. I reached the monastery at 10 o'clock in the evening,<br />
taking the last stretch by taxi.<br />
Greater than these obstacles was the relief when admission was<br />
granted to me at the gate. I only had missed the <strong>first</strong> evening, during<br />
which Fritz had explained how we would build the instruments and the<br />
participants had the opportunity to play the instruments he had brought.<br />
These were approx. 30 instruments varying in length from 1.4 to 3.0,<br />
and <strong>of</strong> all possible diameters. By trying these instruments we could<br />
decide what size <strong>of</strong> instrument we wanted to build over the next two<br />
days.<br />
For Saturday and Sunday the daily schedule was based on monastic<br />
life. Getting up at 5.30, 6 to 7 o'clock Zazen, 7 - 7.30 work for the<br />
29
monastery, 8 o'clock breakfast, at 9.00 starting to build the<br />
<strong>Shakuhachi</strong>…..<br />
First we learned to become familiar <strong>with</strong> the material and the tools.<br />
Using a saw and files we made a mouthpiece on a short piece <strong>of</strong><br />
bamboo. Soon, we could hear that this work had been successful.<br />
Surprisingly, many tones could be elicited from these short pipes. Then<br />
we had to select our piece <strong>of</strong> bamboo. Fritz had brought a choice <strong>of</strong><br />
approx. 50 bamboos. They varied in length and thickness, there were<br />
root end and non-root pieces and different types <strong>of</strong> bamboo. How<br />
wonderful to choose from this variety. This was a unique possibility in<br />
Europe.<br />
After choosing the bamboo, the <strong>first</strong> job was to make it hollow<br />
throughout. We worked from the top and bottom <strong>with</strong> various tools and a<br />
drilling machine, <strong>with</strong> self-made inserts made by Fritz. The next job was<br />
sawing and filing the mouthpiece and the root part. For sawing the<br />
mouthpiece Fritz showed us the right angles, and where to cut. For the<br />
root part, each person formed it according to their own taste.<br />
We worked all day <strong>long</strong> intensively, but in a quiet and eased<br />
atmosphere. The door <strong>of</strong> the workroom was always open and outside<br />
the door a covered area <strong>with</strong> two big tables <strong>of</strong>fered additional<br />
workspace. A big Japanese garden directly adjoined this.<br />
It was a gift to enjoy this garden for two days, as comfortable as we<br />
would be in our own homes. I felt that magic lies in a garden like this.<br />
Every stone, every plant has a very unique charisma which draws<br />
attention to itself. It is almost impossible to stop looking. Fascinating.<br />
Sunday’s job was drilling the finger holes. First, we drilled our exercise<br />
piece and then, <strong>with</strong> bated breath on our flute. Once the hole is drilled, it<br />
is not possible to correct it anymore, at least not in the limited time <strong>of</strong> a<br />
weekend seminar. At home in his workroom, Fritz can repair almost<br />
everything. Doing this job started to become rather like a pilgrims way,<br />
<strong>with</strong> different stations: marking the place to drill the hole <strong>with</strong> Fritz,<br />
drilling the hole, burning the walls <strong>of</strong> the hole <strong>with</strong> a glowing piece <strong>of</strong><br />
iron, checking the result <strong>with</strong> Fritz and if ok, starting again by marking<br />
the next hole. If it was not ok, the station <strong>of</strong> burning had to be repeated.<br />
Eight instruments were built, each instrument <strong>with</strong> five finger holes, 40<br />
times was the pilgrim’s way done, <strong>with</strong> hope and joy.<br />
We built instruments from 1.8 to 2.4 and <strong>with</strong> every newly drilled hole<br />
new tones were born. The workroom and the garden filled more and<br />
more <strong>with</strong> these tones. This was also a very fascinating time, all these<br />
tones in these very special surroundings, and everybody enjoying their<br />
30
own instrument. Fritz even had to look for a quiet corner, to check the<br />
intonation <strong>of</strong> the instruments taken to him. The last step was oiling the<br />
inside <strong>of</strong> the bamboo <strong>with</strong> a rag soaked in oil. Then the instruments<br />
were ready for the handing over ceremony.<br />
The Ceremony was actually a concert on our newly-built instruments.<br />
One piece on each flute was performed by Fritz, dedicated to the flute<br />
maker. What a surprise - never had somebody played especially for me.<br />
We could hear how wonderfully our instruments can be played. I<br />
listened very carefully to every tone <strong>of</strong> my flute, so as to remember later.<br />
If I can’t play like this on my flute, I now know that I can’t blame the flute.<br />
I am very grateful for this handing over because doubting the instrument<br />
is a big obstacle in the way <strong>of</strong> practising. This I know from experience.<br />
I would also like to thank ShoE for her kindness and for her cooking, Mr.<br />
and Ms. Hess for the space provided, and all participants for the<br />
beautiful meetings. Also, thanks again to Fritz for the instruction and for<br />
passing on his knowledge.<br />
Contact:<br />
Fritz Nagel, <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> player and builder since 1983<br />
Schlossstrasse 4,<br />
86485 Markt, Germany<br />
www.shakuhachi.info<br />
Zazen und <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> Bauen<br />
Erfahrungsbericht von Alfred Lerch<br />
Am Wochenende vom 31.8 – 2.9 fand im Kloster Hokuozan Sogenji in<br />
Liebenau, Deutschland ein <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> Bau Seminar statt. Obwohl das<br />
Spielen der <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> der Tradition der Zenklöster entstammt, war<br />
dieses Wochenende eine seltene Gelegenheit diese zwei Traditionen<br />
zusammen zu erleben. Am frühen Morgen und am Abend hatten wir<br />
eine Stunde Zazen mir ShoE, der Leiterin des Klosters. Tagsüber<br />
bauten wir unter Anleitung von Fritz Nagel, einem erfahrenen<br />
Flötenbauer, eine <strong>Shakuhachi</strong>.<br />
Die Idee und die Organisation zu diesem Wochenende hatte Mario<br />
Trinkhaus vom Zen Dojo Tegel, Antai-an. Er kannte das Hokuozan<br />
Sogenji und ahnte ganz richtig, das es ein einmalig schönes Erlebnis<br />
sein wird, an diesem Ort eine <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> zu bauen.<br />
Von der Schweiz aus hatte ich einen langen Weg vor mir, so startete ich<br />
früh morgens um rechtzeitig dort zu sein. Pünktlich um 16 Uhr stieg ich<br />
in Liebenau aus dem Bus. Dann kam die grosse Überraschung als ich<br />
nach Schloss Eickh<strong>of</strong> fragte: Ich war in’s falsche Liebenau gereist. Es<br />
31
gibt, wie ich jetzt weiss, mindestens 3 davon in Deutschland. Die<br />
weitere Reise von Liebenau nach Liebenau war wohl die Prüfung, ob<br />
ich bereit bin am Kurs teilzunehmen.<br />
Ich erreichte das Kloster um 10 Uhr abends, für das letzte Stück<br />
benötigte ich ein Taxi.<br />
Grösser als die Hindernisse war die Erleichterung, als mir am Tor<br />
Einlass gewährt wurde. Verpasst hatte ich den ersten Abend, an dem<br />
Fritz erklärt hatte, wie wir die Instrumente bauen werden und die<br />
Teilnehmer hatten die Gelegenheit gehabt seine mitgebrachten<br />
Instrumente zu spielen. Das waren ca. 30 Instrumente von der Länge<br />
1.4 bis 3.0 und allen möglichen Durchmessern. So konnte man durch<br />
ausprobieren entscheiden, was für eine Grösse man selber bauen<br />
möchte.<br />
Für Samstag und Sonntag war der Tagesablauf dem Klosterleben<br />
nachempfunden. Aufstehen um 5.30 Uhr, 6 bis 7 Uhr Zazen, 7 – 7.30<br />
Arbeit für das Kloster, 8 Uhr Frühstück, ab 9 Uhr <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> bauen.....<br />
Als erstes liess uns Fritz an einem kurzen Stück Bambus mit dem<br />
Material und den Werkzeugen vertraut werden. Mit Säge und Feilen<br />
fertigten wir ein Mundstück an. Dass diese Arbeit gelungen war konnte<br />
man bald hören. Diesen kurzen Röhrchen liessen sich schon viele Töne<br />
entlocken, was rege ausprobiert wurde. Danach kam das Auslesen des<br />
Bambus. Fritz hatte uns ca 50 Bambusrohre zur Auswahl mitgebracht.<br />
In verschiedenen Längen, Dicken, mit oder ohne Wurzelstücke und aus<br />
verschiedenen Bambussorten. Traumhaft, denn wo in Europa kann man<br />
aus dieser Vielfalt auslesen.<br />
Nach der Wahl galt es das Rohr erst einmal durchgehend hohl zu<br />
machen. Mit diversen Werkzeugen und einer Bohrmaschine, bestückt<br />
mit von Fritz selbstgebauten Aufsätzen, arbeiteten wir von oben und<br />
unten am Bambus, bis man zum ersten mal hindurchblasen konnte. Die<br />
nächste Arbeit war das Sägen und Feilen des Mundstücks und die<br />
Bearbeitung der Wurzelpartie. Beim Heraussägen der Anblaskante gab<br />
uns Fritz den richtigen Winkel an. Die Wurzelpartie gestaltete jeder<br />
nach eigenem ästhetischen Empfinden.<br />
Den ganzen Tag arbeiteten wir in intensiv, doch in wohltuend ruhiger<br />
und entspannter Stimmung. Die Werkstattüre war stets <strong>of</strong>fen und vor<br />
der Türe bot ein überdachter Platz mit zwei grossen Tischen<br />
zusätzlichen Arbeitsraum. Unmittelbar daran grenzte ein grosser<br />
japanischer Garten.<br />
Es war ein Geschenk, für zwei Tage diesen Garten so zu geniessen, als<br />
wenn wir dort zuhause wären. Etwas magisches liegt in so einem<br />
32
Garten, immer wieder fordert er zum hinschauen auf. Jede Pflanze,<br />
jeder Stein hat eine einzigartige Ausstrahlung welche die<br />
Aufmerksamkeit auf sich zieht. Faszinierend.<br />
Die Arbeit des Sonntags war das Bohren der Fingerlöcher. Zuerst<br />
bohrten wir wieder an unserem Übungsstück und dann, mit<br />
angehaltenem Atem, an unserer Flöte, denn einmal gebohrt, lässt sich<br />
kaum mehr etwas korrigieren, jedenfalls nicht im begrenzten<br />
Zeitrahmen eines solchen Seminars. Zuhause in seiner Werkstatt kann<br />
Fritz fast alles reparieren. Das Ausführen der Arbeit ergab einen kleinen<br />
Pilgerweg mit den Stationen: Loch anzeichnen lassen bei Fritz, bohren,<br />
schwärzen der Bohrung mit einem glühenden Stück Eisen, Kontrolle<br />
des Ergebnisses bei Fritz und wenn i.O. dann wieder Anzeichen des<br />
nächsten Lochs. Wenn nicht i.O musste die Station Lochdurchmesser<br />
erweitern wiederholt werden. Acht Instrumente wurden gebaut, fünf<br />
Fingerlöcher hat jedes, 40 mal wurde mit H<strong>of</strong>fnung und Freude der<br />
Pilgerweg begangen.<br />
Wir bauten Instrumente von 1.8 bis 2.4 und mit jedem neu gebohrten<br />
Loch wurden neue Töne geboren. Mehr und mehr wurde die Werkstatt<br />
und der Garten von diesen Tönen erfüllt und man hörte die Freude der<br />
Spieler darin. Fritz hatte sich derweilen im Garten eine ruhige Ecke<br />
gesucht um die Intonation der zu ihm gebrachten Instrumente zu prüfen.<br />
Der letzte Arbeitsschritt war das Einölen. Mit einem ölgetränkten<br />
Lappen wurde das Innere des Bambus geölt. Dann war das Instrument<br />
bereit für die Übergabe Zeremonie.<br />
Die Zeremomie war eigentlich ein Konzert auf unseren soeben<br />
gebauten Instrumenten. Fritz spielte auf jeder Flöte jeweils ein Stück für<br />
den Flötenbauer. Was für eine Überraschung, noch nie hatte jemand<br />
extra für mich ein Stück gespielt. So konnten wir hören wie wunderbar<br />
man auf unseren Instrumenten spielen kann. Ganz genau lauschte ich<br />
jedem Ton meiner Flöte, um mich später daran erinnern zu können.<br />
Denn wenn es bei meinem Spiel einmal nicht so klingt wie ich möchte,<br />
weiss ich nun, dass es nicht an der Flöte liegt. Für diese Übergabe bin<br />
ich Fritz sehr dankbar, denn das Zweifeln am Instrument ist ein grosses<br />
Hindernis auf dem Weg des Übens, das weiss ich aus Erfahrung.<br />
Danken möchte ich auch ShoE für ihr liebevolles Dasein und für’s<br />
Kochen, dem Ehepaar Hess für den zur Verfügung gestellten Raum,<br />
allen Teilnehmern für die schönen Begegnungen. Und danke nochmals<br />
an Fritz für die Anleitung beim Bauen und die Weitergabe seines<br />
Wissens.<br />
Kontakt:<br />
33
Fritz Nagel, <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> Spieler und Bauer seit 1983<br />
Schlossstrasse 4,<br />
86485 Markt,<br />
Deutschland<br />
www.shakuhachi.info<br />
..........................................................................<br />
TRIBUTE<br />
While we were evaluating the 2 nd <strong>European</strong> <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> Summerschool,<br />
we heard that YOKOYAMA Shigeko, YOKOYAMA Katsuya-sensei's<br />
mother, left this world.<br />
She made all the people who met her on their way feel very deeply<br />
impressed by her incredible vitality, her tremendous instinct <strong>of</strong> surviving,<br />
by her sensitiveness for beauty, pleasures <strong>of</strong> life and <strong>of</strong> course music,<br />
through which she had a great influence on her son Katsuya.<br />
She was a koto player, but had an especially strong taste for<br />
shakuhachi, and she widely participated in the choice <strong>of</strong> the instrument,<br />
even in the choice <strong>of</strong> the learning, and in the reputation and the<br />
greatness <strong>of</strong> her son YOKOYAMA Katsuya and his music, supporting<br />
him in all his work.<br />
She passed away on the 7 th <strong>of</strong><br />
September, the day before her<br />
96 th birthday, in the most natural<br />
way, <strong>with</strong>out any pain or any<br />
medicine: she simply felt asleep,<br />
very peacefully, for an eternal<br />
rest.<br />
x media graphic library<br />
So this is a very special sensitive<br />
tribute that we are giving here to<br />
YOKOYAMA Shigeko.<br />
HOMMAGE<br />
Au moment de faire le bilan sur<br />
la 2 ème Rencontre Européenne<br />
du Shakuahchi nous apprenons<br />
que YOKOYAMA Shigeko, la<br />
propre mère de YOKOYAMA<br />
Katsuya –sensei, a quitté ce<br />
monde.<br />
34
Elle aura marqué très pr<strong>of</strong>ondément, tous ceux qui l'auront croisé sur<br />
leur chemin, par son incroyable vitalité, son formidable instinct de survie,<br />
par sa sensibilité pour la beauté, les plaisirs de la vie et bien<br />
évidemment pour la musique, et aura, pour ces raisons, pr<strong>of</strong>ondément<br />
influencé son fils Katsuya.<br />
Elle était joueuse de koto, mais avait un goût prononcé pour le<br />
shakuhachi, et a très largement contribué au choix de l'instrument et<br />
même de l'enseignement, puis à la réputation et à la grandeur de son<br />
fils YOKOYAMA Katsuya et de sa musique, soutenant ainsi celui-ci<br />
dans toute son oeuvre.<br />
Elle est partie le 7 septembre à la veille de ses 96 ans de la façon la<br />
plus naturelle qu'il soit, sans peine ni médecine aucunes: elle s'est tout<br />
simplement endormie, très paisiblement, pour un repos éternel.<br />
Aussi c'est un hommage tout particulièrement sensible que nous<br />
rendons ici à YOKOYAMA Shigeko.<br />
Véronique PIRON, d'après le communiqué de KAKIZAKAI Kaoru<br />
(according to the statement <strong>of</strong> KAKIZAKAI Kaoru )<br />
....................................................................................<br />
Prague <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> Summer School 2007<br />
by Adrian Bain<br />
I had been in the Czech Republic for twenty minutes and I was feeling<br />
very sick. My taxi driver was driving like he was in computer driving<br />
game, dodging in and out <strong>of</strong> lanes at high speed. While he avoided (just)<br />
other vehicles, he helpfully pointed out<br />
famous buildings and monuments to me.<br />
“Look at that”, he would say. “I will, but<br />
please… don’t you!”.<br />
I arrived shakily at my hotel and waited for<br />
the arrival <strong>of</strong> Kees Kort (nl), Annelies<br />
Nederbragt (nl) and Philip Horan (ir), all <strong>of</strong><br />
whom I had met at the 2007 E.S.S. Summer<br />
School in France the month before.<br />
The others were delayed, so I made my way<br />
by taxi again (bravely, I thought) to the <strong>first</strong><br />
meeting <strong>of</strong> the 2007 Prague <strong>Shakuhachi</strong><br />
Summer School. Everyone was to meet at a<br />
Japanese restaurant, Miyabi, in Prague city<br />
Christopher Yohmei Blasdel<br />
Photo by Adrian Bain<br />
35
centre. Just as I arrived, two people were walking toward me.<br />
<strong>Shakuhachi</strong> players, I thought (I haven’t worked out why yet, but you<br />
can <strong>of</strong>ten tell). I was right and it was my <strong>first</strong> meeting <strong>with</strong> Vlastislav<br />
Matousek (cz), host teacher <strong>of</strong> the summer school.<br />
In the restaurant, we enjoyed a leisurely vegetarian meal, introducing<br />
ourselves to other <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> players as they arrived. It was nice to see<br />
Marek Matvija (cz) again, who had also been at the E.S.S. Summer<br />
School. There were now five <strong>of</strong> us who had attended the summer<br />
school in France. We were joined by another six others players, two <strong>of</strong><br />
whom were complete beginners.<br />
It was a pleasure to meet Christopher Yohmei Blasdel. I had read his<br />
book “The Single Tone” and marvelled at how the <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> had<br />
taken him round the world and how he had demonstrated the marvels <strong>of</strong><br />
the <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> to many cultures. I had not considered that I would<br />
meet him. From the start, Christopher came across as a very relaxed,<br />
thoughtful man.<br />
At the end <strong>of</strong> the evening, the plans for the coming summer school were<br />
explained. Stage one: a 6:30am rise for Yoga.<br />
At 8am, I rose.<br />
I may have been the only one to miss the Yoga…on that day, at least.<br />
The Yoga classes were kindly provided by Ajay Bobade in a Yoga<br />
school only two doors away from the hotel. This is also where the<br />
summer school classes would be held.<br />
The classes commenced at 9am. As we were in a Yoga school, we<br />
conveniently had access to mats and zafu (cushions); most people<br />
played on a mat on the floor. It was a relaxing atmosphere.<br />
We commenced each day<br />
<strong>with</strong> robuki. Rooooooo.<br />
The Class<br />
Photo by Adrian Bain<br />
Each teacher would teach a<br />
piece throughout the summer<br />
school and these would be<br />
performed at the students’<br />
concert on the last evening.<br />
Christopher taught “Hi Fu Mi<br />
Hachigaeshi”, Vlastislav<br />
Matousek taught “Kyorei”<br />
and Kees Kort “Tamuke”.<br />
36
The summer school had an interesting format which allowed each<br />
teacher to have free sessions so that they could be available for short,<br />
one-to-one lessons, addressing issues that individual students might be<br />
having. Others were welcome to join a session if they had the same<br />
question or problem. This is an excellent idea that perhaps should be<br />
adopted by future summer schools.<br />
The absolute beginners, Jan Sorf (cz) and Vitek Jindrle (cz), were<br />
privileged to have their <strong>first</strong> lessons <strong>with</strong> the esteemed Christopher<br />
Yohmei Blasdel. What an excellent start to their <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> life!<br />
At lunch times, we all<br />
tended to eat together,<br />
trying various<br />
establishments. The<br />
lunches tended to be<br />
<strong>long</strong> and enjoyable,<br />
but may have had an<br />
affect on our<br />
wakefulness. It was<br />
perhaps unfortunate<br />
that the afternoon<br />
Christopher and Kees<br />
Photo by Adrian Bain<br />
sessions commenced<br />
<strong>with</strong> a lecture. With the<br />
lights dimmed and<br />
lying on a mat to watch and listen to the lecture, there was an<br />
occasional spot <strong>of</strong> dozing from a few. This was no fault <strong>of</strong> the lecturer or<br />
content. We had fascinating talks about acoustics from Philip Horan and<br />
David Bidlo (cz), and an astounding in-depth talk from Vlastislav about<br />
the history and versions <strong>of</strong> “Kyorei”. They were all though provoking and<br />
the speakers had clearly studied their subjects <strong>with</strong> a passion.<br />
After the lectures, we commenced<br />
our lessons. The lessons were<br />
always relaxed and open, <strong>with</strong><br />
students able to ask questions<br />
freely. Often, we would veer away<br />
from the piece being taught in order<br />
to demonstrate something<br />
connected or to have a change <strong>of</strong><br />
subject to relax the brain. We would<br />
Socialising Photo by Adrian Bain<br />
talk about posture, grounding,<br />
fingering options, tone and breathing. We played a variety <strong>of</strong> other<br />
songs, even Beethoven’s Ode to Joy and an Indian Raga. Kees would<br />
<strong>of</strong>ten be found playing anything that he could blow into and producing<br />
37
amazing sounds, while Vlastislav would show me scores that were<br />
works <strong>of</strong> beautiful calligraphy.<br />
At tea-time [what do other countries call our English tea-time?], we<br />
would have a break to refresh ourselves before the evening’s concert.<br />
The non-Czechs would take the opportunity to have a wander around<br />
beautiful Prague, sightseeing, and have a bite to eat before the concert.<br />
The <strong>first</strong> concert was held in a<br />
beautiful church that had very good<br />
acoustics. The teachers played for<br />
us and the public; also in<br />
attendance were representatives <strong>of</strong><br />
the Japanese Embassy, who<br />
presented the players <strong>with</strong> flowers.<br />
One member <strong>of</strong> the public was so<br />
impressed she wanted to join the<br />
summer school. Gabriela Kunstova<br />
The Teachers Photo by Adrian Bain<br />
(cz) was so keen she even turned up for the Yoga at 6:30am.<br />
Which I didn’t - again.<br />
James Ragan<br />
Photo by Adrian Bain<br />
The second concert was held in a cellar<br />
below a literary café. We experienced the<br />
special combination <strong>of</strong> poetry<br />
accompanied by <strong>Shakuhachi</strong>. The poet<br />
Petr Berkovec (cz) was accompanied by<br />
Vlastislav and Marek. The poetry was in<br />
Czech, but even <strong>with</strong>out understanding the<br />
words, the tone and rhythm <strong>of</strong> his voice<br />
surrounded by subtle sounds from the<br />
<strong>Shakuhachi</strong> created a moving atmosphere.<br />
Petr was followed by the poet James<br />
Ragan (us) accompanied by Christopher.<br />
James is an American <strong>of</strong> Czech descent,<br />
which strongly influenced his work.<br />
Everyone was moved by his poems and<br />
delivery, in particular one piece about his father’s return to the Czech<br />
Republic and his unexpected reception. I had not expected to be so<br />
affected by the poetry, but I was and deeply. Christopher has a delicacy<br />
and sensitivity to his playing, such that his accompaniment visibly<br />
moved James, causing him to pause in his delivery.<br />
The third concert was also in the cellar. The theme was contemporary<br />
music, <strong>with</strong> outstanding contributions from Christopher and Kees, but I<br />
feel that the night was stolen by Vlastislav and his three talented<br />
38
daughters. It is impossible for me to describe the music they produced,<br />
suffice to say my jaw dropped and I was (unusually) speechless.<br />
When many had retired for the<br />
evening, the hard core <strong>of</strong> us (you<br />
know who you are!) remained for an<br />
extra beer (or three). Jakub Misek (cz)<br />
started to play pieces on a piano;<br />
Kees started to ad-lib, singing a jazzy<br />
blues number. Kees started to charm<br />
his small audience and I joined in <strong>with</strong><br />
a vocal “trumpet” line and we all Vlastislav & Marek Photo by Adrian<br />
started to swing. Everyone was<br />
laughing, until one <strong>of</strong> the staff from upstairs came storming down<br />
screeching “This is not acceptable!”, “On no account can this continue!”,<br />
“This must stop!”. She was scary. We stopped.<br />
The beer and food in Prague are excellent value. So we had more beer.<br />
Eventually we all went home, except for Kees, who was still thirsty for<br />
the nightlife.<br />
In the morning, at last, I made it to<br />
Yoga. I was a little late, but I made<br />
it. What I couldn’t believe was that<br />
Kees was there before me - he<br />
hadn’t got in until around 4am and<br />
yet he beat me to Yoga!<br />
In the cellar<br />
Photo by Adrian Bain<br />
He did fall asleep and start snoring<br />
through the Yoga class though.<br />
The fourth concert returned to the church. The students played the<br />
pieces learned over the four days <strong>of</strong> summer school and Philip Horan<br />
played delightful Irish music that was, as always, very well received.<br />
Annelies surprised us all <strong>with</strong> a short drama about her early frustrations<br />
learning the <strong>Shakuhachi</strong>.<br />
Everyone had some final drinks in a bar and we all said goodbye.<br />
Kees and Annelies kindly rose at 6am and drove me to the airport,<br />
where we said a sad farewell. They have become very dear friends in a<br />
short space <strong>of</strong> time.<br />
I will return to Prague. It is a beautiful city. I will meet my new friends<br />
again. The Czech people are impressive, cultured and kind.<br />
39
For me, the Prague Summer School was a huge success. I thank Marek<br />
for organising the event and looking after us. I thank Christopher for his<br />
patience and kind gift <strong>of</strong> his wisdom. I thank Kees for the knowledge he<br />
shared and his laughter and sheer energy. I thank Vlastislav and all the<br />
Czech <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> players for welcoming us all. I will not forget it.<br />
Happy Blowing,<br />
Adrian Bain<br />
The Prague <strong>Shakuhachi</strong> Summer School 2007<br />
Photo by “The Camera”<br />
40