Sayonara Amerika, Sayonara Nippon

Whenever one of the Davies brothers does anything in public, it’s big news on this small corner of the Internet. Last night, older brother Ray made a special appearance at the second evening of the big Rock and Roll Hall of Fame concerts at Madison Square Garden in NYC. Apparently, there were other musicians involved (some guys named Mick, Bono, Bruce, Lou, whatever), but the highlight of the evening without a doubt was the unlikely pairing of Ray with Metallica. Jon Pareles of the New York Times reports that

Introducing Davies, [Metallica singer James] Hetfield said, “We got schooled on early, early riff-rock,” as if he had just met Neanderthal Man. With Metallica pummeling behind him, Davies went on to let loose some full-fledged rock shouts.

They ripped their way through “You Really Got Me” and “All Day and All of the Night,” but you’ve gotta wish they’d done “Days” or “Don’t Forget to Dance.” In fact, I see a whole concept album to follow up on Ray’s recent choral collection: Metallica performs great ballad numbers by the Kinks.

So far, I haven’t spotted any video of the appearance (I’ll update this entry if/when I do), but here are some photographs from the rehearsals that took place earlier in the day. HBO will be broadcasting a four-hour set of highlights from the two concerts on November 29, though one worries about whether the network will properly grasp the sheer awesomeness of the Ray appearance.

UPDATE: Okay, here’s fan video of the entire performance. It’s pretty damned cool. Writes New York magazine, “On a night with this many legends, would anyone have expected Ray Davies to deliver the knockout performance? Well, he did.”

Elevator of Love for People.

It’s cold, rainy, and gray in Chicago this week. It’s the sort of weather that makes you wish you were somewhere else.

Wish I’d been back home in the Twin Cities this past weekend, for example. Jim Walsh reports that Prince was up to his old tricks at Paisley Park.

“This will always be my home,” Prince told a crowd of a couple thousand at Paisley early Sunday morning during a rave-up of “Let’s Work,” which sizzled like a call-to-arms for the Obama generation. Then, as if reminding himself of his own roots and what can happen when one man puts his mind to making music for the ages, he testified, “I lived in an apartment on Aldrich. I cashed my checks at Rudolph’s [Bar-B-Que]. I swam in Lake Calhoun.”

Point being, of course, that you can and should go home again. With the specter of Michael Jackson’s tragic legacy hanging from the Paisley rafters, Prince rescued his old friend/competitor for the moment with an ebullient version of The Jackson 5′s “I Want You Back.” As he led the first few rows in a singalong, he grinned joyfully and shouted “that’s what I’m talking about,” as if the music alone could negate the ceaseless sordid Michael minutiae clogging the culture’s consciousness at the moment.

On the other hand, it’s a very good thing I’m not in Japan this week. The object of horror/desire that Burger King is offering up there to celebrate the launch of Windows 7 would be a suicidal temptation too strong to resist.

I mean, wouldn’t you have to try it once?

There are apparently worse things than autumnal rain and cold.

I read the news today, oh boy. Actually, I didn’t, as I was traveling most of the day. We just got home this evening from Beloit, Wisconsin, where it was Family Weekend at Beloit College. Our oldest is three months into his freshman year at the school, and given his relative silence since leaving home, we decided to investigate in person to see whether he was still breathing. (The answer: barely, thanks to a nasty cold virus that has had the poor boy in its grips the past two weeks, but now at least seems to be easing up).

While there, we visited the Beloit Farmers Market and loaded up our trunk with apples, cheese, bread, etc. We also visited the famous Logan Museum of Anthropology and the Wright Museum of Art on campus. The latter features a remarkable collection of plaster casts of classical Greek sculptures. They were sent by the Greek government to its pavilion at the 1893 Colombian Exposition here in Hyde Park, and Beloit College bought them up after the fair closed down. It reminded me of the Temple of Zeus at Cornell, a student coffeehouse decorated with Cornell’s own collection of plaster replicas, acquired about the same time as Beloit’s.

I’ve also managed finally to make my way into volume two of Murakami Haruki’s latest novel, 1Q84. It took forever for me to wade through the 550 pages of volume one, a sign to me at least that the work is not one of his best. I’m also currently reading Dennis Washburn’s translation of Yokomitsu Riichi’s 1929 novel, Shanghai, as well as Julia Kristeva’s Powers of Horror: An Essay on Abjection, both for my graduate seminar.

Can it be that tomorrow is already Monday?

Just out this week is City Secrets Books: The Essential Insider’s Guide, edited by Mark Strand and Robert Kahn. It’s a delightful collection of short essays singing the praises of specific books, the obscurer the better, that have moved the authors. Contributors include publishers, editors, bookstore owners, novelists, playwrights, etc. To name just a few, Jane Smiley, Calvin Trillin, Buck Henry, Scott Simon, Oscar Hijuelos — and me.

I’m thrilled to be included alongside such accomplished and creative people. My entry focuses on Natsume Soseki’s 1906 novel, Kusamakura (also known as The Three-Cornered World), the book that made me want to become a scholar of Japanese literature. I managed to misspell the title of Lawrence Sterne’s Tristram Shandy (why is it that these errors remain invisible through the editing and proof-checking process, but then come attached with flashing red lights so you can’t miss them as soon as they appear in print?) in my entry. I hope that won’t keep you from seeking out a copy of Kusamakura – or of this fun little volume, which would make an excellent Christmas present for your Aunt Gertrude or Cousin Hank. Especially since part of the proceeds will be going to First Book, a worthy cause.

This past weekend, the annual Kinks Fan Club Convention was held in Muswell Hill, London. I’ve got to get to that event one of these years….

As usual, the Kast-Off Kinks II, a pick-up band consisting of former members of the Kinks, provided a joyous, anarchic set. They had some trouble this year (also as usual). As numerous fans have reported, midway through the set, some old bloke showed up and insisted on singing with the boys. Here’s bassist John Dalton (active in the Kinks 1966, 1969-76) dealing with the intruder.

The interloper just wouldn’t go away, even as the backing musicians switched around (note, for example, that Ian Gibbons [1979-1989, 1993-1996] has replaced John “The Baptist” Gosling [1970-1978] on keyboards, while Jim Rodford [1978-96] replaces Dalton on bass), and he even gives drummer Mick Avory (1964-84) a hard time:

Imagine the nerve. You’d think he’d written the songs or something.

It was a weekend spent watching new adaptations of canonical works. On Saturday afternoon, Satoko and I headed down to the Auditorium Theater to see the Joffrey Ballet’s production of Lar Lubovitch’s “Othello,” a piece that debuted in 1997. It’s a powerful rethinking of the ballet, one in which the techniques of classical dance are transformed from evocations of beauty into expressions of dark, dangerous emotions. In particular, Lubovitch stresses the ways Iago’s jealousy (and passion) for Othello mirrors that of Othello for Desdemona. The sets and costumes are quite effective, and Elliot Goldenthal’s score works well, too. The performances were top notch, especially Matthew Adamczyk as Iago. The audience gave the cast a well-deserved standing ovation, but didn’t forget to boo Adamcyzk for his villainous performance.

Then Sunday night we headed down to the Chicago International Film Festival to see Kanikosen, SABU’s new postmodern take on Kobayashi Takiji’s 1929 proletarian literature classic about workers on a brutal crab canning ship awakening to an awareness of their oppression and organizing a strike. SABU is best known for directing loosely organized black comedies that revolve around sight gags and a kind of dream logic, making him an odd choice for this adaptation.

It works pretty well in the first half, as the director appropriates the visual and slapstick mode of Chaplin’s Modern Times, but founders somewhat in the second half, when he has to carry the narrative forward to its resolution. I was hoping he would figure out a way to convey revolution via the surrealism of his best films, but instead he switches over to straightforward Hollywood mode: speeches about individuals needing to live their lives to the fullest, sentimental soundtrack music, and camerawork that stresses close ups on the stars’ faces. He almost redeems the film in the closing minutes, when the style again suddenly shifts: we go into slow motion, blurred camerawork and metal machine music on the soundtrack precisely at the point when the workers realize that the point is not individual heroism but rather mass action, whereupon they launch their second, presumably more effective strike. It’s as if SABU is deconstructing the preceding hour or so of his own film and vowing that, whatever the revolution might be, it won’t be successfully carried out according to mass culture forms of melodrama and bourgeois ideologies of self-reliance.

I’ll keep the reworking-the-classics theme going later this morning as I walk to work. I’ll be listening to the Raveonettes’ fine new CD, In and Out of Control, a creative updating of Phil Specter and other classic pop sounds from the early 1960s. They combine the sweetest melodies with the darkest lyrics: “Boys who rape should be destroyed,” for example, or “Last Dance” in which the language of teenage heartbreak at the sock hop is used to depict the final days of a junkie. Just as with Lubovitch and SABU, they demonstrate that there’s life yet to be found in the tired bones of the canon.

(UPDATE: As Roger Pulvers reports at Japan Focus, a musical by Inoue Hisashi based on the life of Kobayashi Takiji is now on stage in Tokyo.)

Newspapers in the West and in Japan are reporting that the Norwegian rock group a-ha have announced they will disband next year after a farewell concert in Oslo. Back in 1985, they had one of the first really cool MTV videos with “Take On Me,” and they’ve soldiered on since. Remembered here in the States as primarily a one-hit wonder, they’ve always had a solid following in Japan.

In 1987, my wife worked briefly at the front desk of the Plaza, one of the best hotels in Sendai. It was where touring musicians usually stayed when they passed through town for a show. A friend of mine used to own a ramen shop in front of the Plaza, and his walls were lined with signed photographs of pretty much every artist you can imagine, Japanese or Western, who had dropped in for a late night snack after the show. One of my favorite stories about his shop is the night Bob Dylan stopped by–and the high school kids working the late shift behind the counter didn’t recognize him.

Anyhow, in 1987 I was going to stop by the Plaza one evening to pick up Satoko after work and take her out for dinner. I get to the hotel and see maybe a hundred teen-age girls milling around outside, as well as a handful of police officers keeping an eye on the crowd. That’s when I remember that a-ha are in town for a concert that night. It’s kind of fun, I think.

So I keep walking toward the front entrance of the hotel. Suddenly there’s a stirring in the crowd and I realize: here I am, blonde, tall, moderately handsome, and about the same age as the guys in the band (in fact, I was born the same week as guitarist Paul Waaktaar-Savoy). Every teen-age girl in the crowd has spotted me and I can feel them wondering: is he one of them?

The moment lasts for maybe three seconds. Then, all at once, everyone realizes that I’m just an ordinary bloke. I continued on my way into the hotel, picked up Satoko, and we had a lovely dinner. But for a few seconds there, it was a-ha and me.

Hell, let’s do it one more time:

Terrible news from Japan: legendary musician Kato Kazuhiko was found dead in a Karuizawa hotel room this morning. He took his own life, apparently leaving behind a suicide note. He was only 62 and still very much an active, creative musician.

Kato first came to public attention in 1968 as leader of The Folk Crusaders. Their first single, “Kaette kita yopparai” (The drunk who came back) was a huge hit, but even more legendary was their cover version of the Korean folk song, “Imujin kawa” (Imjin River), which was banned because of controversies surrounding the Japanese translated version of the lyrics. Here’s video of the group performing that song at a reunion concert a few years back–their last public performance of the tune, it turns out.

After the Folk Crusaders broke up, Kato went on to found yet another seminal Japanese rock group: Sadistic Mika Band. Headquartered in London, they were a pioneering glam rock band who achieved critical acclaim in both Europe and Japan. Their eponymous debut album (1973) and their second LP, Kurofune(Black ships, 1974) are classics of J-Rock, featuring Takanaka Masayoshi’s guitarwork, (future YMO member) Takahashi Yukihiro on drums, and Ohara Rei on bass. Kato sang lead on and composed many of the band’s best numbers.

Sadistic Mika Band reformed several times over the decades, always with a different female singers as “Mika.” The most recent reincarnation came in 2006, with Kimura Kaera doing the honors. That version of the band released an excellent studio album, Narkissos. I was lucky enough to see the rehearsal show for a television concert special they taped at NHK Hall in Tokyo in 2006. Quite simply, they killed.

On the heels of the death of Imawano Kiyoshiro a few months back, this just seems like too much. I just wanna go back in time and savor the talent of the guys who are passing away far too quickly. Time machine ni onegai (transl: time machine, take me away, please).

This is a photo of Ray Davies’ set list from an October 4 gig in Stockholm, posted at the indispensable KindaKinks.net website. It reveals that Ray, who will be touring the States next month (alack, no Chicago gigs), has resurrected an obscure but wonderful song from his back catalog: “Moments,” which originally appeared on the 1971 soundtrack to the movie Percy.

“Moments” is a lovely tune with terrific lyrics, and I’m delighted to see that Ray has chosen it for revival. But as any Kinks fan knows, there are many, many dozens of songs from the Kinks’ nearly half-century career that have been unduly forgotten. Here’s hoping Ray (and little brother Dave, who will be touring next February) continue raking through their back catalog, rescuing more of these gems.

I couldn’t resist the urge to point out a few possibilities. I tried to limit myself to one song per decade, but quickly starting breaking that rule. At any rate, here are a tiny sampling of the great Kinks’ tunes, listed in roughly chronological order, that are just sitting out there, waiting for someone to dust them off and release their magic powers into today’s world.