Kodo drummer apprentices rise at 4.50am to run 10 kilometres - they are prepared to suffer for their art, writes Christine Madden.
We've all heard that sanctimonious cliché about "suffering for your art". It's a romantic image that's generally out of favour with contemporary artists, who would tend to deride that bohemian-consumptive-starving-in-the-garret kind of image. Artists may not have a lot of money; nevertheless, suffering still isn't their game.
Imagine, then, a group of present-day musicians who get up at 4.50am every day to run 10 kilometres, practise all day and live in a community where they not only have to share household chores but eschew smoking, drinking and sex during their two-year training. This isn't just suffering for your art. This is art as an extreme sport, art as an ascetic lifestyle, as a martial art. This is Kodo drumming.
Since 1971, the Kodo drummers have travelled around the world to present more than 2,700 performances in its 35-year existence. The name carries a double meaning: "heartbeat", the primal source of rhythm; and "children of the drum", an expression of the desire to play simply, with the directness and eagerness of a child.
"The original idea was to establish an arts and crafts school on Sado Island," explains Takashi Akamine, Kodo's company manager. "There were a lot of student movements in Japan then, and it attracted them." The idea began with residential summer workshops on this north-western Japanese island close to the Niigata prefecture, roughly 300 kilometres from Tokyo.
"Sado offered very little," says Akamine. "People would go to the mainland to get education and jobs. It was thought this would attract younger people and keep them there. But it didn't work that way. Instead, it attracted people from the outside." Although he finds this curious, the migration pattern would seem familiar to anyone in the west of Ireland who has watched young people emigrate to urban centres both within and outside Ireland and, conversely, culturally interested outsiders flocking into the area.
Kodo started out with 15 people at its inception; now it has 55 fully-fledged members and 20 apprentices dedicated enough to commit themselves to two years of rigorous training that leads to a life dedicated to their music. Akamine, who seems very gentle and polite, but with a finely developed sense of mischief, admits: "I wouldn't do it myself".
"They get up at 4.50am and go running no matter what the weather - rainy, windy, snowy. They share the household duties, such as cooking and cleaning, and practise all day. There's no TV, no drinking, no smoking and no hanky-panky." He laughs again.
It's no laughing matter for the apprentices, though, whose arduous training period includes different classes, regular three-month assessments and a final audition after two years of monastic devotion. "Unfortunately, some are advised to leave," regrets Akamine, who sounds genuinely aggrieved. Those who get through become junior members of the group and start touring with them. As they're on the road nine months of the year, it gives both sides a chance to see how it works out.
After successful completion of this intermediate year, the hopeful Kodo drummer becomes a full member of the group. At this point, the performers are no longer told how to conduct themselves, how to live their lives. "They have to know what to do themselves," he says. "I hope that apprentices going through the programme become better persons. I really hope they learn something about life."
When not on tour, the group members live in Kodo Village, a 25-acre enclave within the Sado island community. As well as drumming, they uphold and pursue Japanese culture in the form of Noh plays, Kabuki theatre and traditional tea ceremonies. Although they use other instruments - such as the fue, a traditional Japanese flute, and shamisan, a kind of guitar with three strings - the Kodo concentrates on the taiko drums. These came to Japan from China via Korea about 800 years ago, and were used primarily for religious purposes. The name of one of the taiko drums, the Miya-daiko, indicates this: miya means shrine in Japanese.
"The drums were used to accompany chanting - to keep the tempo and the prayer regular," explains Akamine. "It's only quite recently that people used the drums for performance."
The secondary purpose of the taiko drums slots in nicely with the ethos of Kodo. The length that the sound of the drum could carry used to indicate the village boundary. "The drums sent messages, they were used for communication," says Akamine. And in taking their taiko drumming programmes around the world, they extend the sound of the drum, "so there is a sense of community all over the world" - hence the name of their One-Earth Tour.
Kodo blends internationalism into its traditional arts in many ways. The largest drum, the O-daiko, is made from one single piece of wood. At one metre across, it is hewn from the trunk of an African Bubinga tree - "We have to go elsewhere in the world to get the trees now," says Akamine, the implication being that, like the West, they too have cut down their trees. The resonant cavity is then covered with stretched cowhide. Together with its stand, the O-daiko weighs about 400kg - you'd want to be the kind of person who runs 10km every day to lift it, let alone play it.
The Kodo performers also come from different backgrounds, bringing influences such as rock and jazz into performances. Their extensive international touring brings an additional nuance to their style. Once on tour through Indonesia, they met an artist from Bali whose artistry on the grantang, a bamboo xylophone indigenous to the island, influenced the piece Biei (Ethereal Flow). The drummers of this piece accompany the grantang for fluid effect.
As evident from other percussion groups such as Stomp, nothing lends itself to performance quite like percussion. The different traditional drum rhythms each have their own choreography, and the well-trained and agonisingly fit and healthy Kodo drummers perform their music with a high degree of physicality.
These unique and energetic performances have attracted a wide following. Irish musician Donal Lunny has performed with them a few times, and was twice invited to Sado Island for Kodo's annual Earth Celebration. Michael Palin also visited Kodo Village on the island on one of his sweeping tours, taking part in the 10km morning run. When asked to have a go on one of the drums, however, he couldn't quite get into it as the group's members did. "He said he was British, and had been told all his life not to make noise," explains Akamine. "Now that he was grown up, he was so used to it, he couldn't do it."
This illuminates the paradox at the heart of Kodo's popularity. "People love to make noise - to scream and shout," Akamine believes. "It makes them feel better. It's an instinct, to make a bit of noise, and that can be comfortable, too." He points out that the big O-daiko sounds like the maternal heartbeat heard in the womb. "If you see young children in the audience, they fall asleep during the big drum. You often see them sleeping peacefully."
Loud noise, he says, can be very comforting. And in the performance, Akamine promises, "we'll make a big noise for you." Judging from the kindness and indulgent expectation in his voice, it sounds as though he's offering a treat on the level of gooey chocolate cake for dessert. No TV, smokes, sex or booze. Nobody ever said anything about chocolate.
The Kodo Drummers appear at the National Concert Hall this Sat and Belfast's Waterfront Hall on Sun
