Hiro

A few weeks ago, I was channel surfing on my Tokyo TV. I came across a program that appeared to be a game show of some sort. Its distinguishing characteristic was that it featured a "battle of the drums," or a battle between two drummers to be more precise. The drummers were amateurs. From what I could gather, they had each been prepared by a professional drummer for this battle. As if this was not enough to keep me glued to the show, my friend, Hiro Tsunoda, was one of the "judges" for the battle. Dressed in an immaculate tuxedo, Hiro exuded calm, confidence, and charisma.

The two amateur drummers had to play together to the track, Take the A Train. Each one of them took a one chorus solo over the track, and then had an open solo, sans music. They were pretty bad. (Sorry - but it's true.) However, one of them - a huge man who looked as though he could be a sumo wrestler - had been solidly coached on one musical fundamental: timekeeping. Of the two drummers, he was the only one that seemed to prioritize the "time," and - indeed - he won the battle according to the judges. (Much to the chagrin of his female counterpart on the other drumset.) The "battle" was completely entertaining, however. Especially when the large man's headphones fell off the top of his head and blinded him by landing around his eyes! This, during his open drum solo!

In all my years of playing music, I've only met one star: Hiro. I've met and worked with some extremely talented people. But, perhaps Hiro is the only one who seems to have been born with a star quality. Maybe he's the only person I've met who is a human lightbulb: simply by walking into a room, he lights it up! He also has the track record, the pedigree, of a star: hit records in Japan, a long career as a TV personality, and respect throughout the Japanese music industry as a great drummer. What hits you so hard about Hiro, however, is that you sense this star quality without even knowing of his accomplishments. He's a natural. Just writing down this description makes me miss him and his smile.

As I have previously written in this blog, Hiro is now running a music school in Tokyo called WMS (Wild Music School). Along with my friend from Pearl Drums, Kazu Yoshizawa, Hiro set me up with a practice room at WMS this summer. Thus, once a week, I would trek to Kasuga station, and walk up the street to WMS to practice and soak up the warm atmosphere at the school. Hiro's family and his staff are always smiling and hospitable to any musican (esp. any drummer!) who walks in the door.

As I was leaving one afternoon, Hiro sent a staff member to catch me and invite me up to his "hang out room." This room is a great open space on the 5th floor of WMS. It features a fantastic stereo, complete with an old Denon professional turntable - the kind you would have seen in a recording studio, say, 40 years ago. Hiro has an unbelieveable vinyl collection (5000 albums, I believe he told me). He pulled out a vinyl compilation called "Sen Ichi," or "1,001." This is a collection of original recordings of fake book songs. It is an amazing and diverse group of songs from the American Songbook. Hiro asked if I wanted to hear anything. I browsed through "1,001" and this caught my eye:
"Sentimental Journey" by Doris Day, with the Les Brown Orchestra.

Hiro placed it on the turntable and it began playing. My guess is that the recording was from the late 1940's and Doris Day's voice is so supple! (Many Americans simply remember her as the Rock Hudson or James Garner romantic interest in comedies from the 1960's, but believe me - in her singing heyday, she could almost pass for a young Ella Fitzgerald.) I'm going to remember for a long time, sitting there drinking coffee with Hiro, looking out at the hot and hazy Tokyo summer afternoon, listening to this beautiful, nostalgic sound from long ago.

The music finished playing and Hiro mentioned that back then - the 40's and 50's - every musician was great. Such an interesting point: performing and writing/arranging were really the only music careers. Thus, everyone who started down the musical path had to be really good at one, or the other, in order to get a gig in one of the outstanding performing groups of that age. Also, jazz - bebop - was on the ascent and many landmark musicians were setting the standard. Hiro's point hit home: there's a lot more room for mediocrity in the music business today than there was 50 years ago. To survive then, you HAD to be great.

For me, that afternoon had the quality of resting at an oasis, and taking relief from relentless summer heat. If you're a drummer and in Tokyo, there's no better oasis than WMS. Thanks, Hiro!