Not very long after I began to learn the sung part of satsumabiwa, Fumon told me that he was to perform with shakuhachi player Christopher Yohmei Blasdel at Meiji Shrine in Tokyo. I was very eager to meet Christopher. I had bought his book "The Shakuhachi" when I first arrived in Japan, and it was an immense help to me.
The Shrine
Meiji Shrine was built in 1920. It extends over an area of 70 hectares in the centre of Tokyo. It is in a man-made self-regenerating forest planted with trees from all over Japan.
I normally enter through Harajuku, the centre of youth fashion in Tokyo. There was always a tangible sense of transformation from the profane to the sacred as I made my way into the Shrine. The city became a strange and distant memory, until it was entirely forgotten upon reaching the Shrine buildings.
As a Shinto place of worship, the deified souls of the Meiji Emperor and Empress Shoken are held to be enshrined in this beautiful, peaceful and holy space, a place set apart from the mundane.
Amongst many things, it commemorates the skill of this Emperor in leading Japan through a time of great change in a world filled with danger for the nation. It also highlights his mark on history through navigating a process of accelerated modernization in the country whilst preserving its unique culture.
In recognition of the Emperor's devotion to the traditional arts, every year at the beginning of May, Meiji Shrine hosts a series of performances of traditional arts, including satsumabiwa, as a Spring Festival.
Every year since 1978
It is a point of pride to many satsumabiwa players that the Meiji Emperor was very interested in satsumabiwa. He entertained many private performances on the instrument, but was particularly keen to hear Nishi Kokichi (1855-1931) play. Some have claimed that he studied satsumabiwa and played it as well.
Fumon was selected every year since 1978 to represent satsumabiwa. He felt it a great honour, and was extremely careful to prepare well. In his mind, he felt he was actually performing for the Emperor in person, in the presence of the soul of the Emperor.
That year he performed a song titled Sakuragari, meaning In search of Cherry blossoms. I arrived on the day with a video camera to record the performance. I didn't have a stand, intending only to take a video for my own personal study.
The audio system did not capture the sound of the satsumabiwa so well. There was a large group of people seated around the stage to hear the performance. However, the constant murmur of background noise from regular visitors milling around was a distraction by times.
One anecdote I often heard mentioned about Fumon's performances in Meiji Shrine remains with me. The Shrine is surrounded by tall trees which are filled with crows of the largest and nosiest kind. They are cawing incessantly.
When Fumon played, however, there was silence.... nature seemed to stop and listen to the satsumabiwa. Usually his students performed before him, however the crows were always irritatingly noisy during their performance.
Another phenomenon I was witness to concerned a blast of wind that occured every time Fumon played there. This gust of wind came and snatched up Fumon's music taking it away. Fumon spoke about it to me many times. He often prepared paperweights to keep the music in place, but to no avail most times. That year, as it happened, Christopher's music was blown away!
A tasteful performance
In preparation for this post, I wrote to Christopher and asked him for permission to include his image and a clip from the video recording I took. Generous as ever, he obliged my request and also sent me information on two articles describing his experiences with Fumon. These can be found in the Hogaku Journal, August 2017 and September 2017 editions.
In these, Christopher describes his encounters with Fumon in preparation for the performance, and his trip to Kagoshima with Fumon the year prior. They wonderfully capture Fumon's personality and the topics he often spoke about.
As for the performance, although satsumabiwa is traditionally not played in ensemble, this combination of satsumabiwa and shakuhachi felt natural nevertheless, and it was very tastefully played. Christopher had given much thought to the role of the shakuhachi. In order not to interfere with the text, he played during the instrumental interludes.
The final line of the song "A flurry of cherry blossoms clasped to my sleeve" was followed by an interlude of swift improvisatory playing by both Fumon and Christopher with very pleasing results... and the perennial blast of wind!
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