AP business writer YURI KAGEYAMA reminisces about her son's love for an ancient Japanese tradition.
Isaku Kageyama plays a medium-size drum at a concert by taiko ensemble Amanojaku in Tokyo. (AP Photo/Naokazu Oinuma )
Isaku Kageyama teaches taiko to youngsters in Brazil as part of preparations for a 2008 event that will commemorate the 100th anniversary of Japanese immigration to Brazil. (AP Photo/Akemi Matsueda)
Percussion passed down through the generations is like the heartbeat of a people's legacy -- that faraway, almost embryonic sound you can remember without ever having to remember it.
And as long as I can remember, I have always been a taiko drummer's mother.
Isaku was 6 when he began playing at neighborhood Japanese summer festivals, getting up with kimono-clad dancers on a makeshift stage decorated with lanterns, beating a potbellied drum of cowhide stretched over hollowed-out wood -- the taiko.
He was barely bigger than the drum, but he played his heart out until the blisters on his fingers bled, showing the same fiery passion he had for little league baseball, video games and other more ordinary childhood fancies.
Now, Isaku Kageyama, at 25, is a professional taiko drummer.
___
BEHOLD THE DRUM
The taiko varies in size from as small as a dinner plate to six-foot monstrosities. What's striking is how physically demanding it is to play the large taiko. Lesser players are out of breath just regurgitating a simple pattern.
The best can make the drum speak in multiple tongues, controlling with the flick of a touch the hues of tonality, even emulating the sounds of nature, such as falling snow and the whirring wind.
The drama of taiko stems partly from the sheer volume of the instrument. The vibrations shake the whole stage, like a lion's roar, and the music literally gets beneath your skin, bumping your insides and rocking with your heartbeat -- even deaf people attend concerts to feel the vibrations.
___
ANCESTRAL TIES
At first, Isaku's taiko lessons with a family friend were simply meant to instill pride in his cultural roots. For Nikkei, or people of Japanese ancestry around the world, taiko is an answer to their search for identity, something that Japanese in Japan may take for granted.
Like many parents, I was determined to give my son a solid reference to fall back on -- something to keep him strong in the face of racism while growing up between the U.S. and Japan.
"That is the most important reason why I play taiko," Isaku told me. "People are going to make fun of you, and people are going to laugh at you, and people are going to make you uncomfortable. But they are the wrong ones. You are right."
Now, Isaku and his Tokyo troupe Amanojaku often travel to Brazil -- the nation with the biggest Japanese expatriate community, estimated at 1.3 million people -- to teach youngsters there the same pride they have learned through the art. Brazilian youngsters take taiko so seriously they practice to the point of collapse -- perhaps because the music fills a spiritual void.
Isaku is preparing for a tour of several Brazilian cities, including Sao Paulo, in 2008, the 100th anniversary of the start of Japanese emigration to Brazil. Besides Amanojaku concerts, the celebration will feature 1,000 Japanese-Brazilian taiko drummers simultaneously playing "Kizuna," which means "Bond."
So far, 550 people have signed on to take part. Iskau, just back from a monthlong trip to Brazil in March, is returning in July to give lessons and recruit more drummers for the celebration.
___
TRENDSETTING
In Japan, a nation more intent on emulating Western pop music these days than exploring its own heritage, it's not fashionable to play taiko. But performances in Brazil can be trendy get-togethers for finding dates and strutting your stuff, like at a hip-hop dance party. When a song is finished, the crowd, including proud Japanese-Brazilian parents, jump to their feet in adoration.
It's a chance to see how cool -- and modern -- an ancient tradition can be.
"I know that not all of them are going to continue playing taiko," Isaku said. "To be a good person, you need to know who you are. And you need to be comfortable with who you are."
My son probably needs more time before he makes his own personal statement in taiko as a fully mature artist. But, at least for now, those are words that would make any mother proud.
___
ISAKU IN ACTION
Isaku Kageyama's bilingual blog
Amanojaku on MySpace
Amanojaku on YouTube
___
Yuri Kageyama is an AP business reporter based in Tokyo.
___
Want to comment? Sound off at soundoffasap@ap.org .
©2007 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed. Learn more about our Privacy Policy.
