The second stage is chic indifference. Been there, done that. Probably bought the t-shirt in a fashion-spasm and burnt it quicksmart when you regained consciousness. “Pocari Sweat? Yeah… that’s like, soooo FIRST WEEK, dude. Get with the scene, Padre.”

In the third stage, you start to wonder whether it might be you that’s in the wrong. “Did he just ask me to ‘please to enjoy to my pocari sweat’? Y’know what? These people are sooo kind! But why is my brain itching?”

Yes indeedy, Engrish is a well-mulled discipline. However, one aspect of this sphere remains relatively under-examined, largely due to its nocturnal, subterranean existence. So, without further ado, Japanzine asks you to take your seats, open your textbooks and turn to page 137, Japanzine Anthroponymy 101: The Japanese Band Name.

Mr. Children

We’ll start at the top and work our way down, shall we? Only those fortunate enough to have been born blind and deaf will have avoided contact with the outrageously monikered Mr. Children. The intentions wrapped up in this name are not entirely certain, so you may be forgiven for assuming the pedophilic worst. A relief, then, to find that this foursome are fronted by everyman Kazutoshi Sakurai, rather than The Child Catcher.

SMAP

Dangerously close to ’spap’, a British term for man-fluid, SMAP actually stands for the all-too-sterile-to-be-a-band-name, Sports and Music Assemble People. Isn’t that just shite? Such a letdown. There’s no fun whatsoever to be had from that little grouping of words, unless you take them as a sentence with ‘assemble’ as the verb… no, we were right before. Utter shite.

Why is My Shit Bloody?

It’s a very good question, and one that deserves a thorough answer. The symptom you’re experiencing is known scientifically as hematochezia, and can be indicative of anything from hemorrhoids to colon cancer, which is why you’d be wise to have it checked by someone other than a Japanzine employee. What’s that? A band name, you say? I really wouldn’t have thought so, no. Though, maybe in Japan…

Ogre You Asshole

According to our dictionary, the noun ‘ogre’ means ‘man eating giant’. It’s not commonly used as a verb, probably ’cause there isn’t much call for ‘ogreing’ these days. That said, ogreing someone’s asshole could well be all the rage in certain cliques. Maybe these boys know. The singer doesn’t look like he’d be capable of putting up much of a fight. Maybe you could pin him down and see how much he minds his asshole being ogred.

God’s Guts

Given that God is ultimately an unknowable concept, and his guts just as inscrutable, it’s perhaps fitting that God’s Guts the band have no real idea what they are either. Among the descriptions they labor under: ‘hardcore’, ‘American’ (there are no Americans in the band), ‘Japanese’ (that’s more like it), ‘melodic’, ‘alternative’. Our personal favorite: “we are discharming men.” So a bit like Morrissey’s nemesis, then? In that case, we’re going with ‘anti-fop.’

Slight Slappers

We’ve got a problem here. Do they mean ’slappers’ as in the verb ‘to slap’, or are they British women of loose moral fiber? Either way, it’s all a bit limp-wristed. Odd, considering they’re a ‘fastcore’ band - which suggests a certain amount of guitar-based aggression. According to one website, they make “mandatory” records, which is a little disquieting. The day fastcore records become mandatory is the day we return to our home planet.

Suck Piggy

Piggies that suck. A little word juggling and things are looking brutally honest. 4 females that, according to their website, play ‘hard punk.’ They sound as bad as they look, which may be why they’ve added “Kyoto City funny noise” to their job description. That’s ‘funny’ as in “this congealed smap smells a bit funny,” rather than ‘funny’ ha ha. But you probably guessed that already.

Spank the Age

On the buttocks? As a punishment? You could easily waste days trying to work out the origins of this name. Even in Japanese it makes no sense, so you have to presume they either like the sound of the words or they’ve made one helluva mistake. But what on earth could they have intended? Spank the aged? Is this a political statement relating to the aging problem Japan faces? Or perhaps they’re just downhearted about the times they live in. Either way, they’re bollocks.

The Powernude

It sounds like a new and exciting machine from the Black & Decker range, but what does it do exactly? Is it related to the Sayaka “Deep Kiss” inflatable doll? Does it thrust and writhe with unfathomable vigor? Nope and nope. Apparently it plays Nuno Bettencourt-esque rock, “for all of the electric beasts.” God help us all.

Now buy the T-Shirt…

Real names we’d kill to find on a t-shirt. Let us know via the usual address if you happen to see any of the following:
Ex-Asshole
For Peter - For Worse
Fuck You Heroes
Sleazy Wizard
Anti-Feminism
Both Cheese
Pussy Pudding
Negative Holiday
Super-Ugly Jap
Jack-Off Machine
Quaint Brain
Jamaican Cheek
Dumpy Macho Wife

ARE THESE YOURS?!?

I snapped a few pics, for what they’re worth.

Smooth Line on stage at Early Believers, Fukuoka.

Smooth Line say goodbye, Tears before bedtime.

Smooth Line singer, Ichiho, backstage, pre-performance.

Takeshi (Micky) in action.

Yacchin, clowning.

The ever-genial Yasutake.

David “Rainbow-Bridges” Borgeson. Man or machine?

Jon Nice; one day, all of this will be his.

Jo Joniqa, and Patrick Spasmoid.

Sorry there’s been nothing on here for a while, but I work full time at Japanzine these days, so all my posts go over there. This month we’ve got a nice feature on alternative employment in Japan - serendipitous, seeing as how the Nova English language schools just collapsed and there are hundreds of foreigners being evicted and in desperate need of a new form of income. Honestly, we didn’t plan it that way! Click here, if you fancy a look… 

Other stuff I’ve written for Japanzine recently  includes an interview with Megadeth legend Marty Friedman, a piece on Duncan Walsh (a starving artist), something about halfus, and a piece on Japanese horror cinema. All worth a look, I’m sure, so head on over to Japanzine!

More soon,

Cheers,

Jon

Jon

However, in the 8 years that your correspondent has lived here, the expression has become something of a misnomer. The foreign band is no longer the exotic prospect it once was. Even artists as well-known as Norah Jones fail to generate enough interest to fuel a national tour these days, most playing the bigger metropolises such as Tokyo, Osaka and Nagoya (where large ex-patriot communities will shed limbs in exchange for tickets) before moving on to Australia. Sting seems to be the exception to the rule. He still gets as far south as Fukuoka, and there aint nothing any of us can do to stop him.

The truth is that the only artists big in Japan these days are Japanese themselves. Since Utada Hikaru and Ayumi Hamasaki took over the charts in the late 1990s, talentless foreigners are no longer guaranteed a pension. Japan has its own talentless industry to fund now.

With the economy supposedly on the mend, one wonders to what extent these trends are financially influenced. A recent conversation with a fake priest suggested that other factors may be at play. “I don’t get nearly as many weddings as I did when I started this job two years ago,” he explained. “Increasingly, couples are booking shrine-based weddings or jinzenshikki (civil ceremonies).” Either Japan is getting wise to these charlatans fast, or it’s experiencing a boost in self-confidence long since overdue. Either way, the gaijin novelty is obviously wearing thin.

Which is as it should be. Asia-centric art, especially home-grown, is where this country’s interests ought to lie. The trouble is, the powers that be have merely replaced the cash-grabbing foreigners with Japanese replicas, and the legions of Shibuya drones are lapping it up - with watered down J-hip-hop (Jip-Hop?) leading by example. The words may be Japanese, folks, but the song remains the same. Nothing to see here. Move along. Foreigners that have the nerve to complain about J-pop being utter crap would do well to remember that Japanese and western chart music are what Uniqlo is to Gap: one a vacuous imitation of the other; neither especially desirable.

Which is not to say that Japan is incapable of producing artists worthy of being truly Big in Japan. Like anywhere, the really interesting work is being done beneath the mainstream radar and, like anywhere, the dimwits that run the industry do nothing to help the situation. While silly money is hurled at the inept and pubeless Kat-tun, those with any kind of artistic vision are put to work in the convenience stores. Not that we should argue. After all, talent is a vampiric quality. The moment it’s allowed out from the catacombs it melts in the daylight. Still, it’s mildly infuriating for any art lover to see the likes of Japanzine favourites TsuShiMaMiRe and Mothercoat taking part-time menial jobs between self-funded tours, while Ken Hirai and Maki Gotoh remain at large. Those blessed with artistic talent should be held high and looked up to rather than put to work scrubbing the bling. The ability to be artistically creative is one of the fundamental characteristics distinguishing human beings from the animal world, as Kumi Koda demonstrates with aplomb.

Next time your cliche-ridden buddy tries to claim that Japanese music hurts, take him to your nearest live house. Invariably the first band on will prove his point, but stick around for the evening and he’s bound to start feeling uncomfortable. At the time of writing TsuShiMaMire were hanging up their Family Mart aprons for a tour of Kansai and Kanto, while Mothercoat were mailing out press copies of their latest masterpiece. Zougenotou are currently said to be the ones to watch, though despite wowing the Osaka and Nagoya massive with their debut gigs, the lauded three-piece are likely to be back-scrubbing again by the time this article goes to print. It’s all there, bubbling under, if you will but don your pot-holling helmet.

Earlier this year, Japanzine called for Japan-based foreign musicians to make their presence known and send in their work. The response was impressive, proving that promising levels of talent exist the country over. But where do they fit into all this? Well, a little research suggests that times are tough. An employee for Kansai-based label, Trolley Records, explained that there just isn’t a market for foreign musicians who have failed to gain recognition back home, and as such few labels are keen to invest in them. Occasionally a band might slip through the net, as Nagoya’s own Sushi Cabaret Club have shown, but until someone rides the wave all the way in, the revolution will have to be put on hold.

Unfortunately, many decent artists are hampered by the erroneous public perception indicated by Trolley Records: these are people who failed to gain recognition in their own country, laboring under a pitiful false impression. What a strange presumption. It’s doubtful that these people came out here expecting to disturb the industry wa. More often than not, foreign bands with a decent shot at breaking Japan from within (such as Nanbanjin, The Routes, Sushi Cabaret Club or Joniqa) have met and formed on arrival, unable to resist the urge to do what comes naturally. Anyone thinking that NOVA might be their ticket to musical fame and fortune has surely spent too much time chasing the dragon.

Of course, what record companies think will have less gravity in a few years anyhow. The recent deal brokered between MySpace and Snocap that allows artists to sell their work easily on any embedable website could well see the imminent death of the middle man. As Japan’s mistrust of the credit card continues to subside and the MIXI generation comes of age, the power to dictate what the public will listen to, traditionally in the hands of the clueless and heavily bunged A&R man, will weaken. At least, that’s what we’d like to believe. At the very least it will have a leveling effect, allowing people to chose exactly what they wish to hear rather than what some image-crazy money guzzler chooses for them. To paraphrase from a recent Yoko Ono interview, the age of indie is finally dawning, and it feels fucking great.

It’s 3:30am on a cold March morning, and I’m quietly soiling myself. As always, I’ve not thought this through properly. Being a “homely” rag, Japanzine isn’t used to dealing with big celebrities, and my rash promises to “land Yoko” were received with the kind of humor usually reserved for a senile relative. A few tentative emails later, and here I am hanging on the end of a phone line as an assistant takes an eternity to put me through to The Dakota building.

The Dakota. A gothic, gloomy edifice that overlooks the Strawberry Fields Memorial in New York’s Central Park. Home to Yoko Ono since the mid 70s. Home and office to Widow Lennon since her husband was gunned down on the doorstep nearly 27 years ago. Lennon, Ono, Beatles, Fluxus - the historical reverberations are overwhelming. I think I’m having a panic attack.

And then, there she is. Kindly, fun, given to a youthful giggle that, in conjunction with her recent dancefloor-friendly brace of albums, betrays her years (she was 74 in February). For these 15 minutes at least, her dragon-lady reputation seems wildly inaccurate: I repeatedly get the feeling that I’m talking to a top-level NOVA student who knows a thing or two about The Flaming Lips. Any hint of annoyance at my line of questioning is always accompanied by a sense of cheeky humor, as though she’s playing me for a line.

She guides me out of my obvious nervousness, chatting amiably about a recent trip to Washington where she found time to indulge in a spot of hanami. Clashing against the hardened New Yorker that her press image exudes, the thought of Yoko Ono sitting seiza-style at a cherry blossom party catches me off-guard, but then I’m equally thrown when she mentions “John” and “Sean”. It takes me a second to realize that these aren’t mutual acquaintances she’s filling me in on, but, well, you know who.

Known worldwide as the provocative Beatle-wife who oversaw the band’s early demise, the general public have little idea that Yoko Ono was an established artist in her own right long before her first encounter with Lennon. With her art acclaimed by such avant-garde luminaries as Andy Warhol, Ornette Coleman and John Cage, it’s an often overlooked but unsurprising fact that she first met Lennon at a major London exhibition being held in her honor. In November 1966, Yoko Ono was the hippest cat most people had never heard of.

As her relationship with the four most famous men on the planet developed, her art began to take a backseat. Politics crept in during the early 70s and the Lennons spent much of their time battling John’s deportation order. As the decade progressed, however, her influence began to be felt in the punk and no-wave movements, and while her hubby happily settled into middle age, wallowing in his beloved rock’n'roll, Yoko once again embed herself along the cutting edge of the modern arts. A fresh spin of the couple’s Double Fantasy album demostrates that while Mr. L was happily setting domestic bliss to radio-friendly, MOR ditties, Mrs. L had her fingernails severing the pulse of the New York underground. The contrast between the two halves of this paean to love and married life is startling. Lennon sounds cosy, contented; Ono sounds fractured, teetering. How can ‘(Just Like) Starting Over’ and ‘Give Me Something’ inhabit the same album? When were the divorce proceedings due to start?

Ever the forward-thinking artist, Yoko recently opened her vaults to some of her admiring contemporaries. Allowed free rein over four decades’ worth of Ono sound, Basement Jaxx, The Flaming Lips, DJ Dan and others have come up with two albums of remixes and re-imaginings. The first, Yes, I’m a Witch, a collection involving artists from the alternative rock scene, was released in February, quickly followed by Open Your Box - a more dance-orientated offering - in April.

Orange Factory, who perform on Open Your Box, first approached you about doing a remix back in 2001, right?

Right! Isn’t that an incredible track? But, you know, I wasn’t keen at all. I didn’t want people to meddle around with my stuff.

Really? I’d have thought that’s the kind of thing that’d interest you.

Yeah, I was always interested in that kind of thing, you know. Like the first album, Two Virgins, and Unfinished Music Vol.1, Life With the Lions… I was always interested in the theory. But the thing is, when they started to want to remix my stuff - around the time of John’s passing, around 1981 - I just said, “forget it! We did a good job! Just leave it alone!” I totally forgot about the ideas I’d had earlier. And then Orange Factory asked me and I said [indifferent voice] “oh, ok, ok, ok” - a bit like that. But then, when they did it, it was so beautiful. And so then I said, “Oh! What am I talking about?! Remember those ideas I had!” From then on I was fine.

How did you go about selecting the artists to work on Open Your Box?

I didn’t select at all, actually. Either they asked me if they could do it - ’cause they all knew I’d done ‘Walking On Thin Ice’ with The Pet Shop Boys, and then Orange Factory. By then there were a few club mixes. So people came to me saying, you know, “could we do it too?” But also I think the record company approached some of them.

So presumably you had final say?

I had final say. So I can put my stamp on it, like Andy Warhol did - “I thought of it anyway, so…”

But you must have taken some of those artists on advisement from somebody else? I mean, did you talk to Sean or…

No. When everything was rounded up and done and they let me hear them, there must’ve been 17 tracks - there were other tracks, you know. I heard everything and I said, ok, “this, this, this and this and that one.” I decided. I didn’t get anyone to whisper to me.

How about Japanese artists? Do you get any offers to work with artists from the Japanese dance scene?

Well, I suppose the Japanese artists have just never thought of asking me.

Do you follow any of the modern music in Japan?

Yeah! Every year I come to Japan and we do a big charity show… I know them all!

I wanted to ask you a bit more about your connection to Japan. I mean, these days, you’re seen as more of a New York, international figure…

Well, I’m not hiding my roots. And a lot of people do think of me as a Japanese and the minute they meet me they go, “Oh! It’s a Jap!” The point is I am a Japanese - an internationally known Japanese - but a Japanese, yes.

Is it true you went to the Peers School with the emperor?

Yeah, true! Classmates - is that the word? Yeah. We were classmates. But, you know. It’s just a fluke!

Going back to your new remix album: it could be argued that you were one of the original remixers, given your heavy involvement with ‘Revolution Number 9′ on The Beatles’ White Album…

Yeah, ok. Well that’s unmentionable.

[Quickly taking the hint] Ah, OK! In that case… I recently saw a clip of you performing Cut Piece at Carnegie Hall in 1965. A fabulous piece. Looking at that clip, I can’t help wondering what was going through your mind at that precise moment.

Well, I just did it. I didn’t know it was going to be famous 30 years down the line or anything. I suppose I thought, “I should’ve put nicer clothes on!” But I didn’t have anything. They were the nicest.

How does the Yoko Ono of Yes, I’m a Witch and the girl in the Cut Piece video relate?

Relate? Well, I’m the same person.

Of course, but are you essentially the same artist, do you think?

Essentially I’m the same person, let’s put it that way.

But is the drive to create interesting art as strong as it was then?

Of course it is! What are you talking about? I mean, I just had two albums out and you’re saying I don’t have the passion for art? I can’t believe it!

I’m not saying you don’t have the passion at all…

No, but that I don’t have the same kind of passion… Of course I didn’t put out two CDs at once in those days. I couldn’t afford to. The thing is, back then in London, I was doing a concert every month actually. Every month, somewhere. I mean, that’s before I got together with John.

Well, not to get too heavily into all that, but I wanted to ask you about the accusation that’s trailed you since you met John - the idea of you being the woman who broke up The Beatles. But you could argue that it’s the reverse: that The Beatles derailed the career of a very original avant-garde artist.

Well, that’s true too. I mean, in a way the fact that I was there might have affected the situation. I don’t think so because, you know, they were already going that way a little bit. Each person was going his own way. But I don’t know. For me, too, it was very bad actually.

Very bad?

Well, bad in the way that suddenly people started to just look at me as Mrs. Lennon rather than anything else. I was suddenly a housewife! But, I mean, I can’t say it’s bad. Those are the things that happened, and I accept it.

In a 1995 interview for your album Rising, you said that you don’t ever expect to have any satisfaction from your critics. Do you think that time has passed?

Well, I didn’t know that I said that, but you know, critics have their own agenda and their own lives. Whatever they say… when I say “satisfaction”, it doesn’t mean that they’ve said something great or super and that’s why I’m satisfied - I really think that what they wanna say is what they wanna say for themselves to the world. It doesn’t really have anything to do with my creativity.

You’ve always been a forward thinking artist. Do you feel that your new collections break any new ground in any way?

I don’t know about that. That’s like some critic saying, “this is not breaking any new ground.” I feel that unless you’re going to bring out something that’s creatively new, there’s no point in bringing out anything. A repeat is not an interesting thing to do. My feeling is that Yes, I’m a Witch and Open Your Box are terribly new, fresh things.

But do you think there’s any new ground left to be broken musically?

Of course! Of course! You know, we’re breaking new ground every day. That’s how the world is. And you know, anything that comes out is better coming out, because the other side of this is the war industry - and you don’t want that to be active. We have to be active ourselves. The peace industry.

Do you consider yourself still a strong part of that?

Oh, definitely. Why, “still”? What is this word, “still”? That sounds like I’m too old to do anything!

Sorry, Yoko! What do you think John would have made of DJ Dan’s remix of ‘Give Peace a Chance’?

Oh, he would have had a good, good laugh. John had an incredible sense of humor, and we did these things not with incredible seriousness. Tongue in cheek, you know.

Do you think he’d be doing similar things - remix albums - if he were around today?

Well, I don’t know.

‘Cause he was quite a rock’n'roller, wasn’t he?

He’d probably have said, “let me do it first!”

Open Your Box and Yes, I’m a Witch are out now on Astralwerks.

→ All articles by Jon Wilks

Hope you enjoy it!

Any comments you have for the band, drop them here and I’ll pass ‘em on.

A special shout out to the latest member of our crib! This here is Ottalie Lindqvist Lines, first daughter of my dear friends Rich and Fritha. The mug spoiling the picture is Rich. The mother’s quite a looker though, so there is some hope.

Welcome to the world, sweet one!