Party 'till you Bleed...

I hauled ass to school on my bike, getting there only a few minutes shy of class time. I had done Ashtanga yoga on Monday and I still felt as if I had been the victim in a blanket party. (After actually re-watching that scene from Full Metal Jacket that simile completely ceased to be funny.) But I had planned this day nicely.

The biggest club in Kyoto is called World. It hosts a slew of famous DJs every month and has a handful of house DJs that return every week. Amongst the sea of unfamiliar names, a particular night caught my eye. The smugly titled "Girly" occurs every Wednesday! Women get in free (whereas men pay a whopping ¥2500) and the music is stereotyped more or less in favor of their gender. They play a lot of Rihanna, Lady GaGa, Taio Cruz, Jason DeRulo, LMFAO, and various "Latin" club jams. Well this sounded just dandy to me, seeing as there was a ¥1000 off foreigner discount, and surely no man would pay close to $33 on a Wednesday night for a club. It would be a haven for cute bubbly Japanese girls, no doubt. But I digress.

I entered the classroom sweating profusely, and sat down for 3 1/2 hours of Japanese. Rode the subway home, left the bike at school, got my homework done, then came back to downtown. I was feeling pretty accomplished by this point in the evening, and it was Wednesday. Hit a bar with a few members of my Chinese posse from school (pictures soon), and around 12:30AM (having spent about $20 on a very small buzz) set out for World.

Now, why did I come here? Immediately I realized that World was exactly like any other club on the face of the planet. It was noisy, stuffy, there were drunk people, and there were dudes being douche pickles. In fact, easily more men than women in the crowd. We're talking like a 3:1. But of course! The program being named Girly, everyone had the same thinking I did. Shit. I'm not slick.

I explored the club, more of a series of catacombs than anything. The space could pack a lot of people into it, but overall it wasn't very big. It would be a choice venue if I actually saw a performance of some kind there. Call me ADD, but spinning music is just not something to behold. Nevertheless, the crowd on the dancefloor was fixated on the stage like shit was happening. Shit was, in a sense. Five or six girls stood in front of the DJ, dancing the way a lot of Japanese people tend to dance, kind of jumping up and down and also twisting side to side, with hand motions at appropriate times. (Lots of popular Japanese club jams have key phrases synchronized hand motions that really pump up the place with energy. Kind of like a toned-down Macarena.) It really is almost anti-glamorous, and certainly anti-sexy. Two large signs hung around them: "on stage, girls only". A blatant ploy for spectacle. Why not just get it out and make it "cute girls only" or something. The girls were, of course, relishing the attention.

There was also a "girls only" seating section, which I was relieved to see. From the amount of bombardment females faced in the club, I was happy that they had a safe haven. Nevertheless something irked me about having this be necessary. Then, on second thought, it would seem even more necessary in the US, but it would NEVER happen. Japanese society is, above all, oh so highly systematic in addressing many problems. The main problem is lack of space, and the myriad of social and psychological discrepancies associated with.
For instance: "Please do not grope the school girls while on the subway. They'll kick your ass." Unfortunately, girls face a lot of harassment, most visible when up in the club. In fact I think just about everyone may face harassment at a Japanese club.

At one point, I was swarmed by three youths who incessantly touched me in a "friendly" manner, and put their arms around me yelling "Eyyyy eyyyy!" and dancing frantically. At first I thought they were just wasted so I went along with it. Then it got a little old and they were still sticking their hands in my face, even though I showed visible annoyance. Rather than try and communicate verbally I moved to another part of the dancefloor. Problem beyond solved. They completely left me alone for the rest of the night. I'm not comparing my seriously half-assed "assault" to sexual assault. I'm just saying that when people get drunk, they do dumb things, sometimes really dumb things.


Anyway, I got a lot of positive attention on the dancefloor as well. While everyone was bouncing around and hand-flapping (can't really call it fist-pumping, because it wasn't a very pump-like motion, and their hands weren't in fists), I was moving in slow motion and generally dancing a lot more rhythmically than everyone else. I was conscious of a lot of eyes being on me, and I was approached by men three separate times in a kind of "Yeah breh you be KILLIN' it!" kind of interaction. It mostly consisted of enthusiastic hand-flaps in my direction. One guy got really excited and almost made it to the level of Slam, but it was still too bouncy. Everything associated with youth culture here is so freaking bouncy. During one of my breaks, I realized that everyone was quite content doing exactly what everyone else was doing. This was the youth culture of assimilation, and embedded in the culture was the programming that every Japanese would hold more or less true to for the rest of their lives. In youth culture, one fits in through dress, hair, makeup, dancing, listening to the same pop stars etc. I was advised by a trusted source to name bands that were common when asked what music I liked, rather than bands that no one in Japan would know. As I watched people dance, I realized what my instructor in the fine art of finessing Japanese people was getting at. Bond over commonality first, express opinion and singularity second. Oh, how will I navigate this one... Oh, to feel chronically unique in a place that values sameness... But simply put, the sameness is shallow in a lot of cases. Once people get to know you a little, you can express how completely weird you are. They won't even be surprised. But not yet... Not yet...
Notice: girls on stage, dudes with hand-flapping action facing stage, motherfucker wearing a Raiders hat, didn't notice that until just now.
I did a jello shot, which in Japan is a jello sphere of vodka surrounded by club soda (fucking ingenious) to Eiffel 65, then danced until about 4:30AM.

Rode my bike home, past the river, past the vending machines, past the curious dead thing, past the three 7/11s en route, past the man who looked like he was giving himself directions, past the umpteenth pedestrian ramp just slightly raised above the street, high enough so it would yield a significant bump. Stopped at Sukiya for my second bowl of raw egg and donburi over green onions and rice, stopped at Lawson's ¥100 Store for some bacon and crappy juice, got home and collapsed around 5:30AM.

Next day, I felt fine, though still sore. One can easily spend $50 on alcohol in Japan without getting a hangover, or $2 and face severe headcrush. Ate a breakfast of fried yam slices and bacon over rice, and headed off to school. Suddenly, in the Fushimi station (local subway station) I had a terrible urge to shit. But I didn't have time, because if I missed this train I would be late for school. OK NVM this is one of the two times I can be late. Rushed downstairs. Here's where it gets graphic. Afterward, there was blood. Enough blood, I thought, to warrant concern. "OMG" I thought, "I have Crohn's disease I knew it! OMG I have internal hemorrhaging from riding my bike too much. OMG OMG OMG I'm going to have to leave Japan NO!" Needless to say by the time I got to school I felt like death and was going into shock. And I was late. For the rest of the day, I was really convinced I was going to have to go back to SF to die.

So what is the moral of this story, dear reader?

It turns out that I most likely just have internal hemorrhoids, probably from the severe change in diet, or maybe from straining too hard. Maybe that's the lesson. Party as hard as you can, just don't poop too hard.

Um... lesson learned...?

Liquid Drugs

It's hard not to compare the commodities of one's country of origin to the stuffs of one's new surrounding. I see a backlit license plate and I think "fuck America doesn't have that." (Cultural note: in Japan, America = the United States. Sorry Paraguay. You just don't count as America.) I see some drunk girls stumbling in their stilettos and I think "yep, we have that." And so on and so forth. It's a rather boring dialogue to have with oneself, because duh there are commonalities and differences between these two countries. But let's talk about drugs.

Most noteworthy are the drugs that I took completely for granted in San Francisco, that have mysteriously left my life in Kyoto. For instance, good coffee. Even decent coffee. Im-freaking-possible to find. I went to the supermarket today to sample some coffee. There's a real fancy looking beanery right next to the McDonalds in there, and though I knew it would cost me $4.50, I shelled it out for a "large" coffee.
There it is. There's my large coffee. But it was OK, I didn't want any more of it than I had.

I decided to try the Micky D's coffee, as I saw they were making a fresh pot. It was a mere $1.80, and was nearly double the amount that Ogawa Coffee gave me. Unfortunately, it was nearly intolerable. But it was better than the coffee at Mister Donut, which cost me about $3.50.

Japan isn't good at coffee. Given, I'm TOTALLY spoiled. But the best coffee I've had since being here was an americano at Starbucks. And it was almost $5. Mom, if you're reading this, please send me some whole bean Peet's. I'm gonna e-mail you.

While Japan fails in making coffee, it excels in providing cheap and readily available alcohol. It's surprising, this country seems like it would love uppers. Oh wait, that's what the huuuuuuuuge selection of energy shots at every convenience store is for. I've seen a couple of people down these and it looks like a painful experience. Anyway, I tried a few drinks that blew my mind. Screw Driver by Cocktail Hour. In a can. I'm glad they don't have these in vending machines (beer only) or else I'd be in trouble. It was more like orange soda and vodka, but delicious nonetheless. It was like $1.25. I got lost after I drank it, literally. And then there was the can of Sparkz (yep) last night that tasted like Royal Gate and seltzer water with a hint of lemon. After slamming it down I walked, completely dazed, around the mammoth empty subway station. All I could think about was that Cannibal Corpse song Hammer Smashed Face. And I didn't even get the tall can. Imagine what's gonna happen when Four Loko hits Japan. That is going to be funny. While the stumbling girls were more cute than anything, it did strike me that it was only 10PM. They had me worried for a sec as they got real near to the edge right in front of me. (Let me take a minute to talk about internal dialogue: when one doesn't know the language and one has a borderline narcissistic ego, it is really hard to imagine that you are NOT the topic of conversation. In this instance, it was pretty frustrating to lack the capability of speaking Japanese.) Anyway I laughed at their antics, and they laughed seeing that I was laughing, and I could tell that if they were talking about me, it wasn't because I was ugly. That's all that matters anyway. Pretty win-win. My worry wasn't justified.

Upon reflection, maybe everything is as it should be. California has great coffee, because we can handle it. Japan has tons of booze because I sincerely think they can handle it. Can you imagine what it would be like if you could purchase a 4 liter (plastic) bottle of sake at any convenience store in the U.S.? Can you imagine what would happen if America could get beers from vending machines?

Fucking pandemonium.

No more cities.

And maybe the Japanese can't handle good coffee. Or American large cups of coffee. Maybe they completely freak out and explode or go on killing sprees, or both. Send me some good coffee.

The Quest for Slam or, Everything You wanted to Know about Japanese Metal but Were Afraid to Ask

This post is for the select friends of mine with whom I share an affinity for metal with. If you're not too into metal (the musical genre) then this post will not make any sense. Or maybe it will make more sense to you than it will to anyone. But I like, REALLY doubt that.

I was sent to Japan not solely for the purpose of learning Japanese, but also to investigate trends in their metal scene, most notably the Wigger Slam scene. Now, by jove what diz the Slam of Wigger even mean? Well...

Slam metal is just death metal that focuses on the mosh parts [slow breakdowns] instead of the thrash parts. It's very straightforward. The key elements are a very ringy snare, guttural cricket vocals [burpcore], and of course tons of slam riffs. Wigger slam metal is simple slam metal played by wiggers.
-Metal Inquisition, March 2008

Why is this interesting? Because Wigger Slam is pretty much the cumulation of all that is metal. It is metal turned up to 11, and self-aware of its own ridiculousness. As well known Wigger Slam band Waking the Cadaver has warrented, Wigger Slam is "Beyond Cops, Beyond God". And it is my good fortune to be in the country that may love Wigger Slam the mostest!

It was depressing and overwhelming to think about how difficult it would be to unearth some homegrown Japanese Wigger Slam. I set out for downtown, tapping each music store I found for remnants of slam.When the J-Wigger working at an indie record shop told me to go to Tower Records, my soul fell to pieces. I walked back to the subway in a funk. Perhaps the slam was just a dream...
But then... A curious sign caught my eye (left). How awesome is this: A CD/LP shop selling crust, emo, ska, sludge, classical, industrial, psychobilly, viking metal, etc., everything brutal! They had tons of opera and Bach. Brutal! It took me a second to find the shop, crammed up some unmarked stairs.

(Notice the "Me First and the Gimme Gimmes Sing in Japanese" ad in the bottom left. Seriously. That band needs to let go.)

Immediately I knew I had found the right place. Lining the shelves was nothing but metal. The biggest sections were definitely death metal and black metal, mostly foreign imports. The Japanese sections were separated into distinct categories. Apparently emo is pretty big in Japan. Hahah and they lumped it in with post-rock. So true.


But alas, emo is not slam, though it does slam the heart in a way. I couldn't just ask the guy working there (a very unlikely looking older man) where he keeps cuts from local wigger slam bands. I don't think that particular terminology has hit the country yet. Wigger slam is, after all, a fairly cutting edge phenom. However the "Grind/Gore/Crust/Death/Black" section was highly suspect. I snapped a few pictures of the spines in the section, bought a double album by Mortician, and a Japanese grindcore comp album of local bands. I also took pictures of some addresses of venues (perhaps houses) I couldn't yet read. Motivation for learning kanji: finding venues that slam. Upon arriving home, I didn't even listen to the CDs I bought, I just started typing in the names of the bands from the pictures. Below are the results.

First up, Baked Bomb. Definitely gutteral, but too fast for slam. Still, pretty good.

Next, Corrupted. God how did I never listen to this band before?? I had heard of them from being on splits and stuff, but damn. Sludge to the max!!!! So good. And they've been around long enough to have a ton of material. Hurrah!

Confuse. High historical worth: this band is from like 1984 and hardcore crust as fuuuck. I can smell them through the speakers.

C.O.P. (Corruption of Peace). I don't know if this really even counts... Some big white guy in a Black flag t-shirt got a bunch of Japanese guys to back him up while he tries to be hardcore? Coming from listening to Confuse, this just doesn't cut it.

Crow Dragon Tea. Woah its like some .... I don't know what this reminds me of... why do I like this, its all happy and hyper.

Deceiving Society. More awesome hardcore crusty crust. So crusty. So hardcore.

Genocide. I've never heard visual-kei death metal, but here it is. Weird.

Grief of War. Oh hell yeah! Thrash! Thrashthrashthrashthrash! Anthrax and Slayer except with unintelligible Engrish lyrics. Sweet.

Gallhammer. All female ex-black metal, now atmospheric doom/sludge. Fuck. Yeah.

Infected Malignity. Wow how that death metal is fast. Oh but what's this? A BRRREAKDOWN!

Proud of Grace. Standard Norma Jean-esque stuff, but for some reason it sounds great. Probably because they're Japanese.

Sigh. Apparently, this is one of the most famous Japanese black metal bands ever. The store had like 7 of their CDs. I mean, if your black metal band's name is Sigh, how can you lose. I think it sounds great.

Alas, my thirst for slam was not quenched, but at least I found some great bands, and some potential slammin' venues. Most promising is this:

Industrial Noise, Black Metal, Hard Core Techno, Dark Drum n' Bass, Cyber Punk, yes please!
And I just opened the little bag my CDs were in.... and you know what was inside????

A flyer for an Unearth/Every Time I Die show.... not slam. And even though "The Acacia Strain" has got some massive wigger slam vibage what with the large gauges and dumb ironic shirts, this slammer isn't paying ¥8000 to see that shit. Type the figure into Google. Seriously astounding-core.

The quest for wigger slam trudges onward.

I made it across the street

I finally got up the courage to leave my room around 1PM. Walking down the stairwell was like being born. Terrifying. I've been trying to keep my mouth from constantly hanging open. I'm already talking to myself. Went to the super market across the street and spent 3 hours wandering around staring. Employees stocking the shelves pass by and thank you for shopping. They thank you for your existence. I asked a woman if they had rice milk in my broken Japanese and she spent 5 minutes scurrying around and talking to other employees and making sure she understood what I meant. After a while there were 4 employees, all middle aged women, debating and conversing, and finally one figured they didn't have it. They apologized profusely. But apologizing profusely is to be expected, and a few seconds later they went about their day like nothing happened. Does it make it any less real emotionally?

I slumped myself down outside of a MacDonalds in the supermarket and had myself a very small can of Fanta grape soda and a disgusting cold chicken thigh/leg. I had deliberately seated myself next to this scruffy long-haired elderly dude who had a strange spread before him: 5 bottles of Boss coffee drink (immensely popular) set down in a very markedly placed manner. One was filed with water, one with milk, the others with coffee, or empty. With great care and precision he mixed himself an iced coffee drink, adding a little milk or a little water when appropriate. He pointed upward with his hand from time to time, and mumbled something, but he never stopped straightening the bottles, or the cloth napkin they were situated upon. He had a large loaf of sugary white bread that he ate in its entirety as I watched, folding the slices into his mouth. As if he knew he was giving a great performance, he moved from the table next to me, to the table directly in front and sat down, continuing his ritual. After about 5 minutes he got up to check the table next to me, and I asked him if he was a musician. Then I asked him if he was a chemist, then a priest. He replied in completely unintelligible Japanese, as he was missing most of his teeth, but I understood from the shaking of his head. I guessed that he was retired, and he asked if I was a student and where I was living, also if I taught English, smiling all the while. He was the first person not to tell me my Japanese was good, after I apologized for it being bad (which it is). This meant something to me. Could it be a sort of disillusionment with the falsity of manners? This guy was for real. He moved back to his seat, and made a counter clockwise motion with his finger at his temple. I denied his admittance and he said "I rike you! I rike you!" I got up, told him that I had only been in Japan one day, that he was my friend, and that we would see each other again. He smiled and simply waved. I'm gonna call him Boss-san on behalf of those 5 bottles of crap he had, and that he clearly was the boss of something, or at least he used to be. I'm looking forward to knowing that guy's story.