Well, when I went to see the legendary Paul Collins Beat sometime last spring, I have to admit I was somewhat curious. Here we had an amazing songwriter who had sort of laid low after the end of his most recognized period in the late 70s/early 80s. Sure he put out an occasional release but as common with very talented people he explored various styles since. So when I had heard from a friend that he had recently put on a stellar show, showcasing his early more poppier material, I knew I had to check him out.
The subsequent performance at Southpaw in Park Slope, Brooklyn was quite a revelation. Not only did he do his most famous material, but also delivered them in a gruffer, yet still, an authentic, and passionate way. It was like someone had awoken him Rumplestilskin-like from under a stage or something, and reminded him that he had to play a gig that night.
After the show I spoke to Paul. Long story short, a kernel of a crazy idea in my head at that time actually led to having Paul and my Japan promoter pal reach an agreement for a small Japanese tour. Within a short while, dates were set, posters made (by the great Rockin' Jelly Bean) and much to Paul's delight, he was set for his first-ever tour of Japan. Something which he mentioned he had always dreamed of doing but was never able to find a way to set up.
Naturally, since I got the ball rolling, my J-pals asked if I was coming along. But, having been unemployed for about a year at that point, the opportunities seemed slim at best. It was tough to croak out a "ummmm, we'll see".
That was about 7 months ago. And now I find myself sitting on a 777 heading to Tokyo's Haneda airport chomping on a somewhat passable tuna sandwich. In the space of those few months, the stars, planets, auras, whatever you want to call 'em,conspired with each in order to make this far-fetched dream come true. Nutted by reality indeed.
Luckily, Rockin' Enocky, of the very cool combo Jackie and the Cedrics, had graciously offered to put me up should I ever return to visit. So, as I stepped off the plane in Tokyo the first thing I scanned for in the assembled folks waiting at the other side of customs, was his distinctive pair of specs.
Enocky was as charming and funny as I remembered him. A very mild and unassuming figure that belies his mastery of the guitar. A man certainly at home with his music, and now, with his just-as-charming wife Junko. We easily fell into a conversation of music, guitars, and the Cedrics, on our ride back to his home.
As we wound through the small streets near his home, I was once again amazed how people, cars, and bikes all co-existed on a road the width of my living room in Astoria. Enocky's car helped. It was the Japanese version of an regular van 'cept with a snub nose and compacted about 3/4 in all directions. Like a rolling Richard Scarry vehicle.
While it was wonderful to see Enocky and meet Junko, what I was really looking forward to was crashing. I was previously told I was getting an entire room and futon to myself, which I found beyond ideal. After years of passing out on my wooden living room floor, having an actual cushion was almost like being spoiled (and yes, I do have proper bed, thank you very much.)
After a good nights rest. I awoke to find the Enomotos in the kitchen. Enocky mentioned that he was going to lend Paul his acoustic for an in-store appearance the following day. So naturally he was in the middle of putting said guitar though its paces. Making sure that everything—the tuning, the tone, the weight—was all befitting a man of Paul's pedigree. All while their finch, Pio-chan, merrily tweeted away in the background. Sometimes even perching on Enocky's head. Talk about a Kodak moment.
After successfully maneuvering the Japanese shower "room", I headed out with the Rockin' one, guitar in hand, for a short walk and then meet up with the band at their soundcheck at Shelter.
Enocky's neighborhood was much like many in Japan, narrow streets with mixtures of mom and pop businesses side by side with more recent arrivals like restaurants, and fast food joints. In fact, I was fooled by one restaurant which had an "antique" look to it. Only to find out that it was new and made to LOOK old. Silly tourist is me.
The area had a nice older feel to it though. It was obvious that this wasn't a "hip" area but one that had withstood the trends throughout the years, only to grudgingly accept one or two.
A real interesting spot we came across originally looked like a pool. Enocky explained that this was one of the last areas in Tokyo that provided fishing for anyone who needed to unwind. For a price of course. He added that it was not uncommon to see businessmen in full suits sitting quietly with a pole in their hand. No doubt wishing their "satcho" would become the next over-work casualty.
While we had originally scheduled to meet the others at Shelter at 4PM, the cold weather made us decide to put the kabosh on the strollin' and high tail it to Shimokitazawa.
Once there, we decide to kill some more time at the local record store, Disk Union. DU is one of the largest "chains" in Japan but unlike, say, HMV, the late-Virgin or Tower, they actually seem to care about what they stocked. Used records and DVDs sat comfortably alongside new items. Some larger stores in Shinjuku and such even had entire floors based on specific genres. The one we were at in Shinokitazawa was formidable.
I mean, lookee what I found. The NY garage fans will know this one. 400yen ($4.80) a bargain. Sorry Bobby, Frank and Tony...
OK, Mr Enocky, lets head to Shelter....
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