Wind Bands and Cultural Identity in Japanese Schools

Wind Bands and Cultural Identity in Japanese Schools

Landscapes: the Arts, Aesthetics, and Education VOLUME 9 SERIES EDITOR Liora Bresler, University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, U.S.A.

EDITORIAL BOARD Eeva Antilla, Theatre Academy, Helsinki, Finland Magne Espeland, Stord University, Norway Samuel Leong, Hong Kong Institute of Education, Hong Kong Minette Mans, International Consultant, Windhoek, Namibia Gary McPherson, University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, U.S.A. Jonothan Neelands, University of Warwick, UK Mike Parsons, The Ohio State University, U.S.A. Shifra Schonmann, University of Haifa, Israel Julian Sefton-Green, University of Nottingham, UK Susan W. Stinson, University of North Carolina at Greensboro, U.S.A. Christine Thompson, Pennsylvania State University, U.S.A.

SCOPE This series aims to provide conceptual and empirical research in arts education, (including music, visual arts, drama, dance, media, and poetry), in a variety of areas related to the post-modern paradigm shift. The changing cultural, historical, and political contexts of arts education are recognized to be central to learning, experience, and knowledge. The books in this series present theories and methodological approaches used in arts education research as well as related disciplines - including philosophy, sociology, anthropology and psychology of arts education.

For further volumes: http://www.springer.com/series/6199

David G. Hebert

Wind Bands and Cultural Identity in Japanese Schools

13

David G. Hebert, Ph.D. Grieg Academy, Faculty of Education Bergen University College P.O. Box 7030 Nyga˚rdsgaten 112 N-5020 Bergen, Norway [email protected]

ISBN 978-94-007-2177-7 e-ISBN 978-94-007-2178-4 DOI 10.1007/978-94-007-2178-4 Springer Dordrecht Heidelberg London New York Library of Congress Control Number: 2011937238 # Springer Science+Business Media B.V. 2012 No part of this work may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, microfilming, recording or otherwise, without written permission from the Publisher, with the exception of any material supplied specifically for the purpose of being entered and executed on a computer system, for exclusive use by the purchaser of the work. Printed on acid-free paper Springer is part of Springer ScienceþBusiness Media (www.springer.com)

Foreword

That this book should be the first by a Western scholar on the institution of the school wind band in Japan is quite remarkable – legendary for excellence, supported at the world’s center of instrument manufacture, and fostered by the largest music competition of any kind in the world as it is. The sources explored, the issues raised, the information gathered and the perspectives brought to bear range widely and are presented in well-organized, easily readable fashion. This is a major contribution to studies of international music education and of music in Japan. Introduced for the purpose of strengthening the Japanese nation, Western music has been a part of the school curriculum since the foundation of a new educational system in the Meiji era (1868–1912), with singing the primary medium for instruction. Part I (particularly, Chapter 2) of this book provides a thorough tracking of the introduction of Western music to Japan with, of course, particular focus on wind bands – their introduction through military functions, the early emergence of community organizations and associations with popular music, influential instructors and other individuals, the development of the educational system and motivations for bringing wind bands into the schools. While wind music has been closely associated with Japanese school music programs, bands are not a program of formal academic instruction. Rather, they (like orchestras and choruses) are an extracurricular club activity at all levels of Japanese education, endorsed by the Ministry of Education as part of ‘‘moral education,’’ for the purpose of character development. Without formal training as band directors, school music teachers of academic courses are responsible for the clubs beyond their full-time instructional duties. Students, who are highly pressured to succeed academically, nevertheless spend over 20 h/ week and in excess of 600 h/year in school band rehearsals. This book demonstrates that the system of school bands in Japan, while highly successful in terms of Western performance standards, is based upon quite different assumptions, values, objectives and practices than are commonly seen in European and American school music ensembles.

v

vi

Foreword

David Hebert writes as an experienced band musician and director, music educator in the United States and Japan, professor of music education in Scandinavia and the United States, and also as an ethnomusicologist. His skills of ethnographic observation are acute, and his use of documentation thorough and critical. From the moment of setting the scene in Chapter 3 – the urban setting, the neighborhood in which Hebert’s primary site of research is located, the middle school itself and finally the band room, Hebert creates a sense of place that is at first particular, but from there we are taken in the book to Japanese culture ‘‘in general’’. Filling the band room with students and the director for a rehearsal in Chapter 4, Hebert guides us gradually through the book to an understanding of ranks and roles, gender and class, and issues of identities (Chapters 15 and 16) in a system of cooperative learning and peer tutoring that developed in the particular context of Japanese history and modernity. In Chapter 5 the roles of the band director are compared to those of an American sports coach and a teacher in the iemoto system of traditional Japanese music. This is a system that, unlike the Suzuki method that is known so well known internationally, functions well with little parental involvement (Chapters 10 and 11). As we learn through the book, school wind bands in Japan are a form of community-based music. Lacking the structure of a set curriculum, they are undergirded by a network of community institutions that have vested interests in the survival of the practice. Research into those institutions—their histories, motivations and involvement with the bands – permitted Hebert to understand their individual contributions and the network among them (Chapters 12 and 13). Among the institutions (to which Hebert devotes more attention than usual in such a study) are instrument manufacturers – Yamaha, Roland, Korg – that are committed to community music education. Professional wind bands including the Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra that Frederick Fennell directed for ten years and also multiple band associations have roles to play in the network. Particular attention is paid to the All-Japan Band Association that mounts the fabulous competition (in recent years, roughly 700,000 musicians in over 14,000 bands typically performing in the three tiers of this annual national contest), drives composing of new repertoire, and provides the primary goal for the school bands of outstanding musical achievement. Composers are the focus of Chapter 9. The lively issue of competitions Hebert addresses in three chapters. Notable in Chapter 6 is the first detailed English-language description of the final stage (national level) of the All-Japan Band Association competition that is annually attended by a number of Western band directors. In Chapter 8 the AJBA goals for the competition are revealed, the Japanese system is compared with the Texas competition on which it was modeled, and Hebert provides an overview of research on competition in music, including Eurovision and American Idol. The student perspectives on the competition are the focus of Chapter 7, and we see Hebert as a sympathetic ethnographer.

Foreword

vii

Addressing music educators especially, David Hebert offers two theoretical possibilities that he amply demonstrates were effective for his analysis of the school wind bands of Japan. In Chapter 14 he pursues the role of metaphor to engender key insights into the significance of musical practices in the context of education and culture. While that has been a key analytic in the fields of linguistics and ethnomusicology, it is a recent interest in music education philosophy (particularly in the work of Marie McCarthy and Patricia Shehan Campbell). In Chapter 17 Hebert proposes from his observation of successful Japanese wind bands a theoretical model that illustrates the ensemble leader’s role in guiding musicians toward the acquisition of further musical skills and understandings. Within this Ensemble Ethos Model, the music teaching process is reconfigured beyond mere transmission of instructional content, toward a perspective that accounts for collective learning and social interaction: how an effective music teacher will nurture a culture of musical achievement. This excellent book has the potential of bringing music education and ethnomusicology (and other fields) closer and of bringing Japanese culture more into focus as a contributing partner in the cosmopolitan shared space of Western/Japanese music. There is much to learn from it. Berkeley, California

Bonnie C. Wade

Author Biography

David G. Hebert, PhD is a Professor of Music with the Grieg Academy, Bergen University College, Norway. He previously held academic positions with universities in the USA, Japan, Finland, Russia, and New Zealand, and has directed (or currently directs) music research projects on six continents. Widely published and cited as a scholar of global music education, he is chair of the Historical Ethnomusicology special interest group of the Society for Ethnomusicology.

ix

Contents

Part I

A Social History of Wind Bands in Japanese Schools

1

The World’s Finest School Bands and Largest Music Competition . . 1.1 Overview. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1.2 Writing Style and Research Background . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

3 5 6 8 9

2

Where are These Bands From? – An Historical Overview . . . . . . . . . 2.1 Methodological Approach . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.2 Chapter Overview. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.3 Mythical Origins. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.3.1 Wind Instruments in Japanese Tradition . . . . . . . . . . . 2.3.2 Psalmanazar and Other Early European Accounts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.4 From Zipangu through Dejima . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.4.1 Jesuit Music Instruction in Sixteenth Century Japan . . 2.4.2 Dejima and Rangaku. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.4.3 Music Transmission via the Nagasaki Kaigun Denshujo . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.4.4 Metallurgy, Early Trumpet Instruction, and Guttig’s Dream . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.4.5 Yamagunitai: Japan’s Oldest Westernized Band. . . . . . 2.5 Music Westernization in the Meiji Restoration . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.5.1 Fenton’s Legacy. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.5.2 Origins of Kimigayo . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.5.3 Iwakura Mission and Rokumeikan. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.5.4 Early Schooling, and the Mason-Isawa Saga . . . . . . . . 2.6 Emergence of Community Bands and School Bands. . . . . . . . 2.6.1 Jinta: Informal Marching Band. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.6.2 Shonen Ongakutai: Community Youth Band. . . . . . . . 2.6.3 Early School Bands . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.6.4 AJBA National Competition. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

11 12 13 15 15 15 17 17 19 21 22 23 25 26 28 29 30 34 34 35 36 38 xi

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Contents

2.7

Japanese Bands in the Mid-Twentieth Century . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.7.1 Bands After the War . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.7.2 The Blossoming 1960s . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.8 Recent Developments. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.8.1 Through the Twentieth Century . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.8.2 The Rise of China . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.8.3 Recording Industry and Curricular Reform . . . . . . . . . 2.8.4 Contemporary Perspectives . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.9 Historiographic Issues and Revisionist Interpretations . . . . . . 2.9.1 Imada’s Historiography. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.9.2 Musical Contributions of Fenton, Eckert, Mason and Isawa. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.9.3 Explaining the Popularity of Bands in Japan . . . . . . . . 2.9.4 Fenton’s Final Years: New Data. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.9.5 Concluding Remarks . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Part II

39 39 40 41 41 42 43 44 48 48 52 54 57 59 60 73

An Ethnography of Wind Bands in Japanese Schools

3

An Invitation to the Tokyo Middle School . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3.1 A Place for Learning . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3.1.1 The Urban Setting . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3.1.2 The Trek to School . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3.1.3 The School Neighborhood . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3.1.4 At the Campus. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3.1.5 The Main Office . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3.1.6 The Band Room . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3.1.7 Academic Music Classes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

85 86 86 87 87 88 89 90 91 92 94

4

The Band Rehearsal Ritual and Its Participants. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.1 The Rehearsal Ritual . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.1.1 Chuuningu . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.1.2 Kiritsu . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.1.3 Hajime . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.1.4 Gassou . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.1.5 Paatore. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.1.6 Owari . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.2 Band Participants . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.2.1 Ranks and Roles . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.2.2 Jougekankei System. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

97 97 98 99 99 100 101 102 102 102 105 106 106

Contents

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5

Instruction in the Japanese School Band . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.1 Band Director as Coach . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.2 Band Director as Hogaku Sensei . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.3 Instructional Process . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.4 Zettai Dame!: Negative Feedback . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.5 Use of Models . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.6 Uniquely Japanese Techniques. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

109 110 111 113 116 118 120 121 122

6

Scenes from the 50th AJBA National Band Competition . . . . . . . . . . 6.1 Fumon Hall . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6.2 AJBA Rules . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6.3 Local Understandings of the AJBA Competition . . . . . . . . . . Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

125 125 128 130 131 131

7

Winning in Band: Views from Beneath and Within. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7.1 Going for Gold. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7.2 Silver Equals Failure . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7.3 A Pastiche of Remembrance . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7.4 The Rival Drummers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7.5 Saxes Against the Rest . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7.6 A Lingering Humiliation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7.7 Learning Through Competition . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

133 133 134 136 136 138 138 139 141 141

8

Winning in Band: Views from Above and Beyond. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8.1 A View from Above: Interview with the AJBA Director . . . . . 8.1.1 Research on Competition in Music . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

143 143 146 151 153

9

Japanese Composers and Wind Band Repertoire . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9.1 Repertoire Selection . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9.2 AJBA Required Pieces . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9.3 AJBA Free Pieces . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9.4 Japanese Band Composers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9.5 Transculturation and Hybridity in Japanese Band Music . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9.6 Themes from Kyo-En Series of Japanese Wind Compositions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

155 155 156 158 162 164 167 168 169

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Contents

10

Leadership and Duty in the Ensemble. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10.1 Parental Involvement . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10.2 Responsibilities of a School Music Teacher . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10.3 Inkai Management and Instrument Choice . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10.4 Moral Education . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10.5 Isshoukenmei: Giving One’s All . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

171 172 172 175 176 177 178 179

11

Cooperative Learning and Mentorship in Band . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11.1 Tutoring One’s Kohai. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11.2 Transmission Through Transcription . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11.3 Learning the Lingo . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11.4 Instilling Perseverance . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11.5 Cooperative Mentorship and Autonomy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

181 182 183 184 185 186 189 190

12

Organizational Training of the Japanese Band Director . . . . . . . . . . 12.1 Kato Sensei’s Occupational Training . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12.2 The Teacher Transfer System . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12.3 Relevant Institutions and Organizations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

193 194 196 197 200 201

13

Corporate Giants: Yamaha and the Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra . . . 13.1 Music Industry in Japan. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13.2 Contributions of the Yamaha Corporation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13.3 Other Japanese Music Companies . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13.4 Professional Wind Bands in Japan . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13.5 Concluding Remarks . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

203 203 203 208 210 213 213 215

14

Metaphors of a Japanese Band Community . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14.1 Communities of Learning. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14.2 Metaphors of Community . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14.3 Symbolism in the Band World . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14.4 Embodiment Metaphors in Band Argot . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

217 217 219 220 221 224 225

15

Musical Identity in the Band: Social Class and Gender . . . . . . . . . . . 15.1 Socioeconomic Status . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15.2 Gender Issues . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

227 228 230

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15.3 Manga, Gaming, and Gender in School Bands . . . . . . . . . . . 15.4 Concluding Thoughts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

233 235 235 237

16

National Identity in the Japanese School Band . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16.1 The Kimigayo Incident. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16.2 National Identity and Music . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16.3 Interpretation of the Kimigayo Incident . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16.4 Kimigayo Outside of School . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16.5 Interpretation of National Identity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

239 239 240 242 245 246 247 249

17

Ensemble Ethos: Theorizing Cultures of Musical Achievement . . . . . 251 Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 255 References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 256

18

Conclusions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18.1 Overview of Conclusions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18.2 The World’s Finest School Bands . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18.3 Practical Implications for Music Teachers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18.4 Toward a Musical Community . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

259 259 264 265 268 269 270

Afterword . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

273

Glossary. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

277

Name Index . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

281

List of Figures

2.1 2.2 2.3 3.1 4.1 4.2 5.1 6.1 6.2 6.3 6.4 6.5 7.1 9.1 9.2 9.3 9.4 9.5 11.1 12.1 12.2 14.1 15.1 15.2 17.1 17.2 18.1 18.2 18.3

Hiten at Todaiji temple, Nara . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Yamagunitai notation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Historical timeline of wind band music in Japan . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ishikawa middle school building (floor 2) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Tuning motif. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ranks and roles in the school band . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Kato Sensei’s 5-point approach to band conducting . . . . . . . . . . . Number of wind bands in Japan by category, 2007 . . . . . . . . . . . . AJBA membership requirements . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Responsibilities of AJBA member bands . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Adjudication by-laws for the AJBA band competition . . . . . . . . . AJBA contest adjudicator form . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ‘‘Gold’’ written in the band room . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ‘‘Free piece’’ categories in the AJBA regional competitions. . . . . . ‘‘Free piece’’ categories in the AJBA national competition . . . . . . ‘‘Free pieces’’ of middle school bands at 50th AJBA nationals . . . Consistently popular composers at AJBA nationals (1996–2006). . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ‘‘Japaneseness’’ in music of band composers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Solfege in Japanese Katakana script . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Japan academic society for music education . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Japan society for music education . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Embodiment metaphors from Japanese band expressions. . . . . . . Japanese middle school teachers: Gender and subject area . . . . . . Favorite school subject of Japanese 6th grade students. . . . . . . . . Ensemble ethos model: (1) The rehearsal process . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ensemble ethos model: (2) Contextual relationships . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusions overview A: The teacher . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusions overview B: The students . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusions overview C: The system . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

16 24 45 88 100 103 114 128 128 129 129 130 134 158 159 159 160 165 183 198 199 223 230 231 252 253 261 262 263

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Part I

A Social History of Wind Bands in Japanese Schools

Chapter 1

The World’s Finest School Bands and Largest Music Competition

論より証拠 Ron yori shoko ‘‘Seeing is believing’’ – evidence rather than mere ideas

The title of this opening chapter ‘‘The World’s Finest School Bands and Largest Music Competition’’ may at first glance seem overstated and provocative, but it is amply undergirded by data rather than assumptions. Such descriptions are derived from an international rather than Japanese perspective on this subject, and illustrate the perennial challenge of reconciling the local (insider, or ‘‘emic’’) and global (outsider, or ‘‘etic’’) perspective within ethnographic research, a problem also illustrated by the choice of title for this book. In the original proposal sent to publishers, the manuscript was tentatively called Buraban, a slang term for ‘‘wind band’’ in Japanese. Many classic anthropological monographs have similarly featured a key term from the local language within their title, but I was concerned that this term might already be in use. Upon searching the internet, I was surprised to find several websites announcing the launch of a videogame with the same title. Intrigued, I explored further. The game featured animated images of schoolgirls playing various wind band instruments, rendered in the style of contemporary Japanese anime, complete with enormous eyes, docile expressions, excessively cute gestures and astonishingly short skirts. But upon further examination, these cheerful band room images rapidly descended into an uncensored bacchanalia of such prurience that would surely be unwelcome in any school music classroom of the real world. Apologies seem unnecessary for the rather sterile book title that followed, Wind Bands and Cultural Identity in Japanese Schools, but this background seems worth mentioning from the very start because it already provides some insights into the wider context for the narrative of this book. The fact that a niche market can be found in Japan among adults who seek interactive animated fantasies from their school band experience seems to speak volumes about (a) the significance of these ensembles in contemporary Japanese society, and (b) the extent of profound cultural differences that often yield unexpected D.G. Hebert, Wind Bands and Cultural Identity in Japanese Schools, Landscapes: the Arts, Aesthetics, and Education 9, DOI 10.1007/978-94-007-2178-4_1, Ó Springer ScienceþBusiness Media B.V. 2012

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and even inconceivable reinterpretations of familiar practices upon adoption into the Japanese educational system. Most people in contemporary Western nations have had some form of direct experience with school bands, either as an actual band performer or as an audience member at the concert of a close friend or relative. Wind bands have long played an important role in European communities, and have even served for generations as the primary mode of instrumental music learning in North American schools.1 However, they have also become a standard offering in schools of many other nations, where they evolved differently according to each educational system and cultural context. Japan is among the many nonWestern nations that enthusiastically embraced Euro-American music and educational models during the twentieth century. But what form have wind bands taken within Japanese schools? Some American band directors have travelled to Japan to see for themselves, and upon returning have published astonishing stories that arouse great curiosity among music teachers in the United States and abroad. In Music Educators Journal, one band director asserted that ‘‘Many high school concert bands and an amazing number of junior high school bands in Japan are performing on a level equal to America’s college bands,’’ suggesting that ‘‘performances are of such a high quality that it is doubtful whether any high school or junior high school concert bands in the world could surpass them.’’2 Another was ‘‘impressed with the quality of the musicianship, the discipline, and the pride that was evident in every aspect of both rehearsals and performances.’’3 Even a Director of Bands at Indiana University has written that he was ‘‘totally amazed at the enthusiasm and activity of the band movement throughout the country.’’4 By the start of the twenty-first century, Japanese school bands had become legendary in the United States, and tours were established to bring American band directors to Japan to observe school bands. Upon returning from such tours, directors described the Japanese performances as ‘‘an amazing ensemble blend, impressive stylistic treatments and a high school ensemble sound that would rival many of our college and professional groups.’’5 Others asserted that the tour experience ‘‘redefined what the standard of our profession should be,’’ and that ‘‘Japanese have found a way to take the school band experience to the highest degree.’’ Such tours typically have focused their attention on the final stage of the All-Japan Band Association (AJBA) national competition. In recent years, roughly 700,000 musicians in over 14,000 bands have typically performed in the three tiers of this annual national contest, apparently the world’s largest music competition of any kind.6 Those familiar with contemporary American band directors will surely recognize that the kind of enthusiastic praise reported here is rather unusual. But do such claims really provide sufficient foundation for the assumption that the performing level of Japanese school bands has far surpassed all other nations? And if so, what may have caused this remarkable development, and what are its implications for how Western musical and educational systems may

1.1 Overview

5

be embraced, modified and mastered by other non-Western societies? Japanese wind bands represent a particularly striking case of music transculturation within an educational context, as the history of Japanese bands is not very long, and within schools it spans only a few generations.7 Educational policy makers planning the introduction of cultural traditions into schools of other nations may gain insights from an understanding of this model, as will interdisciplinary music scholars and educators with an interest in culture and pedagogical practices.

1.1 Overview This is the first book to describe the current conditions, historical development, and educational significance of wind bands in Japan. Included is examination of amateur and professional ensembles, the national band competition system, Japanese wind band repertoire, and relevant music organizations, as well as a historical overview of the development of this unique tradition. Extending upon a doctoral dissertation that was supported by a grant from the Japan Ministry of Education for ‘‘ethnographic research on the role of wind bands in Japanese music education,’’8 this book describes the details of daily life within an awardwinning school band in Tokyo, with attention to the cultural context of its rehearsals and performances. While the school band described herein is unique, many of the issues and processes observed are similar to those faced by other school bands in Japan and elsewhere. A gold medal-winning Tokyo public middle school band served as the principal site for a 9-month period of concentrated fieldwork, from July 2002 to March 2003. The conduct of band rehearsals is described, including an emphasis on instructional techniques and learning strategies in use within the ensemble’s rehearsals. The study also examines the role of school band participation in the musical identity of Japanese youth.9 Additional data were obtained between 1999 and 2007 from observations of the rehearsals and performances of various wind bands in Japan, as well as interviews with several influential Japanese band composers and leaders of music organizations, extensive document analysis, and a questionnaire to school band directors.10 This was followed by a residency in 2009 as Visiting Research Scholar at Nichibunken, a division of Japan’s National Institutes for the Humanities, in Kyoto, which enabled further historical research and study of Japan’s music industry. This book is divided into two parts: Part I, a social history of wind bands in Japanese schools, and Part II, an ethnography of wind bands in Japanese schools. Chapter 1 has introduced the rationale and purpose of this research, and will now outline the structure of the book and then proceed to discussion of the writing style and background of studies on which it is based. However, the remainder of Part I is a single long chapter (Chapter 2) that steps back in time to provide an extensive historical overview of the origins and development of

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Japanese school bands, based upon comparative critical analysis of both English and Japanese language publications. The remainder of the book (Part II) focuses on the actual practices and meanings associated with Japanese wind bands in the present day. Chapter 3 provides an introduction to a Tokyo middle school band, with detailed description of its urban and institutional setting. Chapter 4 describes the band rehearsal ritual, and the roles and relationships of its members. Chapter 5 is devoted to detailed description of the band director’s instructional strategies, which are compared with the model of a sports coach and a hogaku sensei, or teacher of Japanese traditional music. Chapter 6 provides the first English language description of scenes at the 50th All-Japan Band Association national competition. Chapters 7 and 8 demonstrate the role of competition in a Japanese school band, from a variety of perspectives. Chapter 9 examines the characteristics and sources of Japanese wind band repertoire. Chapter 10 focuses on the roles and responsibilities of the Tokyo school band director, student leaders and parents. Chapter 11 demonstrates the processes of cooperative learning and mentorship in the school band. Chapter 12 addresses the training of a Japanese band director, providing the first detailed English language description of various Japanese music organizations. Chapter 13 examines the role of two highly influential institutions within the sphere of Japanese wind bands: the Yamaha corporation and the Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra. Chapter 14 examines the cultural significance of common metaphors in the discourse of a Japanese wind band. Chapter 15 explores musical identity in the Tokyo school band, in terms of socioeconomic status, gender, and spirituality. Chapter 16 examines the role of national identity in the school band. Based on the findings of this study, Chapter 17 presents an Ensemble Ethos Model as a way of understanding how music teachers nurture a culture of musical achievement within the ensembles they direct. Chapter 18 presents conclusions, followed by an Afterward, Glossary, References, and Index.

1.2 Writing Style and Research Background As the title suggests, this book is about Japanese wind bands generally, rather than the individual case of a particular school band. Still, most of its vignettes are drawn from intensive ethnographic observations from a specific ensemble, the Ishikawa Middle School Band.11 Some careful readers may initially see this approach as cause for concern, since it may seem to be implied that behaviors observed in one band are similar to behaviors encountered in all other bands of its kind. Such an approach would be simplistic and unscholarly, which this book is not. It is increasingly understood that Japan has one of the most homogenous national systems of education, and the findings of qualitative case studies have been shown to be more relevant and broadly applicable in Japanese schools than in schools of most other nations.12 Moreover, this book

1.2 Writing Style and Research Background

7

is based on much more than ethnographic observations of a single band. As notes and references indicate, its background includes various research studies and observations of several different Japanese bands as well as the training of school music teachers and conductors, discussions with numerous band directors in various parts of Japan, extensive document analysis, and 4 years of working experience as a professional educator in Japanese universities, set against a background of professional experience as a school band director and music teacher educator in the United States. Japanese scholars and music teachers have responded very positively to issues raised in the author’s Japanese language publications, and there have been no indications that vignettes derived from the Ishikawa Middle School Band are particularly unusual relative to other successful school bands in Japan. Rather, particular observations from this case were selected for discussion precisely because they appear to effectively highlight processes and themes that were determined to be common among these ensembles. Based on this experience, I am quite comfortable with the assertion that these descriptions of student behavior are generally applicable to the majority of award-winning school bands in Japan. There will certainly be some exceptions, as each band director has slightly different interpretations and opinions, but it is quite unlikely that Japanese readers will dispute any of the behaviors described in this book. Rather, those with experience in Japanese bands have usually tended to appreciate the detail of these descriptions, as the stories are familiar and often resonate with their own personal experience. In writing this book, I have attempted to use a style that is accessible to readers from a variety of backgrounds, including both scholars and students from the academic fields of comparative education, ethnomusicology, music education, and Japan studies, as well as professional band directors. For readers who are interested in learning more about the sources of data, or who seek discussion of a more theoretical nature, extensive endnotes are provided that add substantially to the text. Although published in a series that uses APA style citations, for the sake of interdisciplinary appeal this book uses a modified form of APA style. Rather than parenthetical citations, notes are inserted in the main text corresponding to detailed explanations in endnotes at the conclusion of each chapter. APA-style citations are then located within each of the endnotes, followed by a list of references for the individual chapter. Each chapter is introduced with a different well-known kotowaza (traditional Japanese proverb) that I found to be especially relevant to the particular theme of the chapter. For kotowaza that are rather cryptic, I have provided further interpretation alongside the literal translation. Although kotowaza have often been romanticized in orientalist literature, I include them here out of the sincerest of respect for what can be learned from the traditions of Japan, a remarkable nation that continues to fascinate and inspire.

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Notes 1. For a more detailed discussion see Hansen (2005) and Humphreys (1989). There will be frequent comparisons between Japanese and American approaches to instrumental music education at various points in this book. While observations in Japan could be compared with many different nations, there are especially valid reasons supporting this particular comparison: (1) Historical factors. As will be explained in Chapter 2, the Japanese school system is strongly influenced by American approaches to education, providing a highly relevant model for comparison (Takeshi, 1996); (2) Research corpus. There is no more thoroughly researched system of music education than that offered in American schools, making the USA a particularly accessible and globally familiar model for detailed comparison (for additional examples, see Colwell & Richardson, 2002; Wohl, 1993); and finally, (3) Personal experience. The author has highly relevant working experience in the USA as a public middle school band director as well as lecturer for universities in the field of instrumental music teacher education. 2. Within the most popular magazine among American school music teachers, Willson (1986) is unreserved in his praise for the remarkable accomplishments of Japanese school bands. It is important to note early in this book that the pedagogy of Japanese school bands is utterly different from the Suzuki Method, an approach to the teaching of European musical instruments that originated in Japan (where it was never terribly popular) and was widely promoted in the USA and other nations, where it came to be erroneously recognized as the Japanese approach to music education (Mehl, 2009). In fact, the Suzuki Method is generally considered a form of community music education rather than an approach for school music classrooms, yet even within the sphere of community music it is clear that for the past several generations the Yamaha School and its methods have been much more popular than the Suzuki Method in Japan. More about the precise differences between Suzuki Method approaches, the Yamaha School, and Japanese school bands will be explained in later chapters. 3. See Abdoo (1984) for further discussion in the Music Educators Journal (p. 55). 4. See Cramer (1991), p. 8. Ray Cramer, former Professor and Director of Bands at Indiana University, has conducted some of Japan’s leading wind bands. Timothy Salzman, Professor and Director of Bands at University of Washington, is similarly complimentary of Japanese wind bands, having frequently served as a guest conductor for Japanese wind ensembles (personal communication). British conductor Timothy Reynish of the Guildhall School of Music (a former President of the World Association of Symphonic Bands and Ensembles) has also publicly indicated his deep respect for Japanese band repertoire and ensemble performances. 5. These three statements are from various Florida school band directors. See Jenkins, Cook, and Humphreys (2002), pp. 12–18. 6. Through a comprehensive review of music contests throughout the world, this author’s dissertation was the first study to identify the AJBA competition as the world’s largest music contest in terms of the estimated number of competing musicians. See Hebert (2005), pp. 236–246, 408–411. As will be demonstrated in later chapters, 700,000 is actually a rather conservative estimate based on scholarly restraint, for in recent years some Japanese authors have used that figure as the lowest in their estimated range of what the total number of annual AJBA contestants is likely to be (Togashi, Ishimoto, & Bandou, 2007). 7. Music transculturation within the Japanese wind band idiom is discussed in Hebert (2001a). The early history of Japanese wind bands is the subject of a Japanese-language book chapter (Tsukahara, 2001). For broader descriptions of the development of Western art music in Japan, see Wade (2005), and for East Asia more generally see Everett and Lau (2004) and Yang (2007).

References

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8. See Hebert (2005) for a comprehensive literature review (pp. 13–66), and detailed discussion of research methodology (pp. 99–136). The Japanese government has restructured in recent years, and this grant awarding division is now called the Ministry of Education, Culture, Sports, Science and Technology. 9. Musical identity has long been of interest to ethnomusicologists (Johnson, 2010; Rice, 2010), and has also recently become a subject of inquiry within music psychology (MacDonald, Hargreaves, & Miell, 2002). See Hebert (2009) for discussion of the identity gap between music emphasized inside versus outside of schools, and Hebert (2010) for discussion of ethnicity and musical identity. The theme of cultural identity is especially examined in the final four chapters of this book. 10. Some of this additional research was supported by a grant from the National Band Association (USA). Previous research among Japanese bands has included interviews with the managers of professional wind ensembles and leading wind band composers. See Hebert (2001b) for discussion of Japanese composers Hiroshi Hoshina and Yasuhide Itoh. A discussion of some major findings from this study is also published in Japanese language (Hebert, 2007). 11. Pseudonyms are used for the specific school, band director, and students mentioned in the case study component of this research. However, real names are used in the history chapter, and in description of Japan’s contemporary wind band music scene in general, including important composers, conductors, associations, companies, and ensembles. According to anthropologist Sherry Ortner (2006), ethnography ‘‘has always meant the attempt to understand another life world using the self – as much of it as possible – as the instrument of knowing’’ (p. 42). Based on extensive personal observations, this study seeks to empathetically describe the world of Japanese school bands. 12. See LeTendre (1999) for further discussion.

References Abdoo, F. B. (1984). Music education in Japan. Music Educators Journal, 70(6), 52–56. Colwell, R. J., & Richardson, C. (Eds.). (2002). New handbook of research on music teaching and learning. New York: Oxford University Press. Cramer, R. (1991, May). Japan: They love bands! Indiana Musicator, 8–9. Everett, Y. U., & Lau, F. (Eds.). (2004). Locating East Asia in Western art music. Middletown, CT: Wesleyan University Press. Hansen, R. K. (2005). The American wind band: A cultural history. Chicago: GIA Publications. Hebert, D. G. (2001a). The Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra: A case study of intercultural music transmission. Journal of Research in Music Education, 49, 212–226. Hebert, D. G. (2001b). Hoshina and Ito: Japanese wind band composers. Journal of Band Research, 37(1), 61–77. Hebert, D. G. (2005). Music competition, cooperation and community: An ethnography of a Japanese school band. PhD dissertation, University of Washington. Hebert, D. G. (2007). Kokusaiteki shitendemiru nihonno suisogaku [Japanese wind bands in international perspective]. Japanese Band Directors Association Journal, 13, 35–46. Hebert, D. G. (2009). Musicianship, musical identity and meaning as embodied practice. In T. Regelski & J. T. Gates (Eds.), Music education for changing times: Guiding visions for practice (pp. 39–55). Dordrecht: Springer Press. Hebert, D. G. (2010). Ethnicity and music education: Sociological dimensions. In R. Wright (Ed.), Sociology and music education (pp. 93–114). Aldershot: Ashgate Press. Humphreys, J. T. (1989). An overview of American public school bands and orchestras before World War II. Bulletin of the Council for Research in Music Education, 101, 50–60.

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Jenkins, N., Cook, K., & Humphreys, M. (2002). Musical ambassadors return from Japan with inspired views. Florida Music Director, 55(7), 12–18. Johnson, H. (2010). Introduction. In H. Johnson (Ed.), Many voices: Music and national identity in Aotearoa/New Zealand (pp. 1–18). Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars Press. LeTendre, G. K. (1999). The problem of Japan: Qualitative studies and international educational comparisons. Educational Researcher, 28(2), 38–45. MacDonald, R. A. R., Hargreaves, D. J., & Miell, D. E. (Eds.). (2002). Musical identities. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Mehl, M. (2009). Cultural translation in two directions: The Suzuki Method in Japan and Germany. Research and Issues in Music Education, 7(1). Retrieved September 11, 2011, from http://www.stthomas.edu/rimeonline/vol7/mehl.htm Ortner, S. B. (2006). Anthropology and social theory: Culture, power, and the acting subject. Durham: Duke University Press. Rice, T. (2010). Disciplining ethnomusicology: A call for a new approach. Ethnomusicology, 54(2), 318–325. Takeshi, K. (1996). American educational influences on Japanese elementary music education from after World War II through the Showa period. Doctoral dissertation, University of Illinois. Ann Arbor, MI: Proquest/UMI. Togashi, T., Ishimoto, K., & Bandou, R. (2007). Ichi on nyu kon! Zen Nihon Suisougaku Konkuru meikyoku meien 50 [Heart and soul in a single tone!: 50th anniversary of the all Japan wind band contest]. Tokyo: Kawade Shobo Shinsha. Tsukahara, Y. (2001). Gungakutaito senzenno taishu ongaku [Military bands and popular music before the war]. In K. Abe (Ed.), Burasubando no shakaishi (pp. 83–124). Tokyo: Seikyusha. Wade, B. (2005). Music in Japan: Experiencing music, expressing culture. New York: Oxford University Press. Willson, T. (1986). Japanese bands: What makes them so good? Music Educators Journal, 72(5), 41–47. Wohl, M. A. (1993). The small town band director: A descriptive case study (Doctoral dissertation). University of Oregon, Ann Arbor, MI: Proquest/UMI. Yang, M. (2007). East meets west in the concert hall: Asians and classical music in the century of imperialism, post-colonialism, and multiculturalism. Asian Music, 38(1), 1–30.

Chapter 2

Where are These Bands From? – An Historical Overview

火のないところに煙は立たず Hinonai tokoroni kemuriwa tatazu ‘‘There is no smoke without fire’’ – all effects have a cause

The end of the world, according to Christian belief, will be imminent when the archangel Gabriel finally blows on his trumpet. Interestingly, it is also thought among Zen Buddhist monks that enlightenment may be achieved through the blowing of a single perfect tone on the shakuhachi bamboo flute – the ideal of ichi on jobutsu – a venerable objective toward which many devote a lifetime of focused efforts. These musical images from two different cultural traditions are both contrasting and complimentary in nature, with their shared acknowledgement of an eternally sacred relationship between focused breath, spirituality and musical meaning, as well as divergence on whether such eternally resonating expression constitutes a music that is provocative and externally projected or, alternatively, contemplative and internalized in nature. There are both striking similarities and differences in the kinds of belief systems and worldviews commonly associated with traditional European and Japanese societies, which is one factor that makes studies in the history of such cultural contact so fascinating, and the role of European wind instruments in Japanese history offers a particularly insightful window into such phenomena. This chapter offers an account of the social history of wind bands in Japan that includes a substantial amount of new information previously unavailable in any language as a robust scholarly narrative. Very few publications in European languages have focused specifically on the history of wind bands in Japan, and these have tended to consist of extremely brief accounts and timelines of a few key events within band director magazines or other non-research based publications.1 There have, however, been important books on the general history of western music in Japan, but wind bands have tended to receive very little attention within such publications in European languages.2 Japanese language accounts of the history of western music, however, are particularly insightful in this respect, and the role of wind bands within the early history of western music in nineteenth century Japan is often fully acknowledged by D.G. Hebert, Wind Bands and Cultural Identity in Japanese Schools, Landscapes: the Arts, Aesthetics, and Education 9, DOI 10.1007/978-94-007-2178-4_2, Ó Springer ScienceþBusiness Media B.V. 2012

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2 Where are These Bands From? – An Historical Overview

Japanese scholars, yet their development and influence in the 20th and 21st centuries has tended to receive very little discussion.3 Based on painstaking examination, careful comparison, and interpretation of an array of Japanese and English-language documents – many of which were also triangulated to data from original interviews with Japanese musicians and scholars – this chapter aims to synthesize the available information into an accurate, multivoiced and transparent narrative.

2.1 Methodological Approach The method of this chapter may best be described as historical ethnomusicology.4 Historical studies have been a major part of ethnomusicology for much of the field’s own history, yet in recent years both the distinctiveness and significance of historical inquiry are receiving greater attention from ethnomusicologists than ever before. According to Bruno Nettl, ‘‘The number of ethnomusicologists doing work of an explicitly historical sort has increased to the degree that the term ‘historical ethnomusicology’ has begun to appear in programs of conferences and in publications.’’5 However, Nettl has cautioned that not all historical studies of non-western music are necessarily ethnomusicological, and that ‘‘historical studies, to qualify as proper ethnomusicology, should relate somehow to the central tenets of ethnomusicological definition – relationship to other cultural domains and a view of music as a world of musics’’.6 Accordingly, the narrative of this chapter considers musical practices in relation to the domains of education and general cultural history, and interprets the case of Japan within a broad, international-comparative perspective.7 This chapter evolved from careful consideration of how studies in the subfield of historical ethnomusicology, as well as related fields such as anthropology, cultural history, and historical sociology, grapple with how to meaningfully represent the musical past in scholarship: both the evidence-based past of empirical research and the remembered past of cultural narrative, both of which may be quite important in rather different ways. Much of the data collection, therefore, focused on questions related to how the history of western music and music education within Japan is perceived in relation to the reality of what can be empirically confirmed. Assuming that most of what had already been written on this topic is accurate, the research began with some untested interpretations, and several surprises were encountered along the way. Many widespread beliefs and common interpretations of this history turned out to be rather different from what may actually be confirmed, including such questions as the following: What is the oldest surviving form of European music in Japan? How did the first European instruments arrive in Japan? Who taught the first European string, percussion, brass, and keyboard instruments in Japan, and how and where were they taught? What is the oldest continuously performing westernized music ensemble in Japan? What is the oldest professional European orchestral ensemble in Japan? To what extent is it accurate to suggest that a particular individual may be

2.2 Chapter Overview

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regarded as the ‘‘Father of Western Music’’ in Japan? For what reasons did European instruments and music lessons become popular in this nation? How did Japanese manage to produce the world’s largest musical instrument companies, and what has been the role of music industry in Japan’s system of music education? In what ways has the Japanese system influenced other nations? How and why did music competitions become so popular in Japan? History is inevitably interpretive and even subjective to some extent, but conscientious and diligent scholars of the past are obligated to provide an account that is as thorough, balanced, and accurate as possible given the unique circumstances of each historical topic. It may surprise some readers to learn that the wind band history of Japan is actually a highly contested field, in which many of the most basic truth claims and broader interpretations continue to be challenged and debated. This chapter was completed with a deeply personal awareness of just how difficult it can be for some individuals with vested interests in such a topic to permit open discussion of new data and alternative interpretations that may to some degree contradict dominant paradigms and prior understandings of the past. Still, most scholars recognize that historical narrative inevitably evolves as much as humanity itself, and it seems equally inevitable that the present account as well may someday seem rather outdated in light of new findings that are likely to continue emerging with the passage of time. Further, this chapter also developed from an understanding of the need to examine historical documents with both genuine empathy and a criticallycomparative and probing mindset, constantly asking such questions as ‘‘What did the writer of this document really mean?’’ and ‘‘Is this content convincing, and can it be confirmed?’’ and ‘‘Might there be any plausible alternative explanations?’’ Such obsessive questioning of sources and robust documentation of the origins and contexts of data seem to constitute an essential aspect of the considerable differences between the work of amateur enthusiasts and music journalists (some of whom wield considerable power and influence in the field of wind bands) and that of professional researchers.8 Research takes time, requiring substantial critical reflection that ideally engenders the assertion of credible claims which are open to accountability.

2.2 Chapter Overview Since this chapter is rather broad in scope, it is helpful to begin with an overview to introduce the terrain to be covered. The next section of this chapter will offer a brief consideration of the mythical origins of wind music in Japan, which has implications for cultural memory both in Japan and western nations, and continues to play a symbolic role in this field to the present day. Additionally, it discusses the earliest known European account of musical practices in Japan, which may also be regarded as a form of mythology in that it was fabricated by a fraudulent yet highly influential author. The next section discusses what is

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known regarding the earliest teaching of European music in Japan, including some wind instruments, offered by Jesuit missionaries in the sixteenth century. Later, the role of Dutch sailors and merchants who traded with Japan through the island of Dejima (or Deshima) is discussed, particularly its importance for the earliest dissemination of nineteenth century European woodwind, brass, and percussion instruments, as well as sheet music, band method books, pianos, and even early forms of western military band instruction prior to the Meiji era (1868–1912). Included is discussion of Dutch military drumming in Japan during the Edo bakufu (mid-nineteenth century), in a narrative based on data from documents as well as interviews with the current leaders of Yamagunitai, a fife and drum (kotekitai) ensemble which appears to be not only the longest surviving but also the earliest known entirely Japanese music ensemble to be based on western models. Next, the prominent role of wind bands in Commodore Perry’s opening of Japan is discussed, as well as the earliest known instruction in European trumpeting, followed by consideration of the development of the metallurgical industry in Japan and pioneering attempts to build western brass instruments and form military bands. Finally, the narrative reaches John William Fenton, who is sometimes regarded as ‘‘the father of western music in Japan’’ and widely (but mistakenly) credited with founding ‘‘Japan’s first military band.’’ A realistic assessment of Fenton’s role is offered in light of recent research findings, including discussion of the development of early British style military bands, chamber orchestras, and Japan’s national anthem, considered in relation to the contributions of his predecessors as well as Franz Eckert and other notable contemporaries. Next, the central role of the Tokyo ballroom Rokumeikan as a cultural center for the dissemination of European music (from 1883 to 1888) is considered, as well as the relative position of Japan during this period within the broader trends of colonization and westernization across East Asia. This topic is followed by discussion of Shuji Isawa and Luther Whiting Mason in the development of Japan’s early school music education, which would later serve as the main context for the institutionalization of wind bands in Japan. The narrative then shifts to address the function of music within nationalism during the period of the RussoJapanese War (1904–1905), as well as the development of the earliest youth bands, community bands, and school bands in Japan. The origins of Japan’s oldest surviving professional western orchestral ensemble, the Osaka Municipal Symphonic Band are also traced, based on documents and interviews with the ensemble’s current managers. Next, the narrative shifts to a discussion of the origins of what appears to have become the world’s largest annual music competition in terms of the number of contestants (approximately 700,000 per year), the All-Japan Band Association national wind band contest. Across various decades of the twentieth century, the narrative traces the development and rising maturity of wind ensemble performance across Japan, as well as relevant Japanese music organizations and publications, the wind instrument industry in Japan, the national system of school music education, and the blossoming of wind music compositions by Japanese composers. The chapter

2.3 Mythical Origins

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concludes with discussion of the most recent developments in Japanese wind bands, particularly within schools, as well as assessments of current issues facing wind bands in Japan in the early twenty-first century, followed by some surprising research findings and critical analysis of revisionary perspectives regarding this history.

2.3 Mythical Origins Music has long been an important practice in human societies, closely linked to emotional expression, cosmology, and deeply meaningful rituals. According to the findings of recent research studies, some Neanderthals and early humans played bone flutes over 35,000 years in the past.9 Archaeological evidence suggests that wind instruments may have been played in Japan from at least as early as the Jomon period (1000–2000 B.C.).10

2.3.1 Wind Instruments in Japanese Tradition In ancient Japanese religious tradition, wind instruments are associated with contemplation, as seen not only with the hichiriki oboe and kagura-bue flute found in indigenous Shinto rituals (e.g. kagura), but perhaps most prominently within Buddhist iconography. The example of shakuhachi playing among Zen monks has already been noted, but another important example is that of the Tennin or Hiten, which are celestial beings (essentially, Buddhist angels) that are frequently depicted playing wind instruments. According to Frederic, ‘‘Mostly they are dancers and musicians, and were widely used for the decoration of temples and sanctuaries.’’11 In fact, these wind instrument playing apsara (in the original Sanskrit) are iconic images closely identified with some of Japan’s most prominent national symbols, including the Byodoin of Kyoto, the temple depicted on Japan’s 10-yen coin, as well as the Todaiji of nearby Nara, which claims to be the world’s largest wooden temple.12 The very earliest mention of wind instruments in Japan may be found in such myths adorning the walls of the Byodoin and portrayed on the grand octagonal lantern of Todaiji (mid-eighth century), and even in recent years such symbols have served as inspiration for wind band music by Isao Matsushita and other notable contemporary Japanese composers (Fig. 2.1).

2.3.2 Psalmanazar and Other Early European Accounts Much of the very earliest information Europeans received regarding musical practices in Japan consisted of fairly reliable compilations of oral narrative, while other descriptions were outright fraudulent. According to one report

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Fig. 2.1 Hiten at Todaiji temple, Nara

dated October 28, 1583, by Jesuit priest Alessandro Valignano, who had shared European music with the Japanese, ‘‘Our vocal and instrumental music wounds their ears, and they delight in their own music which truly tortures our hearing’’.13 In another early source, the Atlas Japannensis by Dutch cartographer Arnoldus Montanus (from 1670), unidentified Jesuit priests in Japan allegedly reported that at one point ‘‘there came fifty four difguis’d like Mafcurades, being the Dayro’s Muficians, Playing on feveral Inftruments, as Pipes, Tabors, Cimbals, Bells, and fome ftrung Inftruments, unknown to us.’’14 Unfortunately, it is difficult to verify the accuracy of such reports, since Montanus and his contemporaries rarely identified their sources with sufficient detail, but it is clear that Valignano actually lived for several years in Japan. According to Englebert Kaempfer’s account from 1727, a religious sect had been encountered in Japan called the ‘‘Jammabus’’ who ‘‘blow a trumpet made of a large shell.’’15 These may be among the most accurate and legitimate early European descriptions of Japanese music, including wind instruments, yet there are also some widely popularized accounts with dubious claims. According to ‘‘Chapter 31: Of the Musical Instruments of the Japanese and Formosans’’16 of George Psalmanazar’s (1679–1763) descriptions from 1704, the Japanese had musical instruments: such as resembled the Drum and the Tabor, the Trumpet and Flagellet, the Lute and Harp: But since the time that the Europeans came thither, they have learn’d the way of making and using these instruments, which are now made almost after the same fashion as they are here in England: For when they heard the Jesuits play upon the Organs, and sing Musically after the manner of the Romish Church, they were mightily taken with it, and inflam’d with a desire of learning the Art of Musick, which now by their industry and ingenuity they have attained, tho’ not in perfection, yet to such a degree as wonderfully pleases themselves; and therefore they commonly use both vocal and instrumental Musick at their Marriages, Funerals, Sports and Recreations . . .

Psalmanazar’s English language book was also translated into French and German, and he was frequently invited to give lectures on Japanese culture to

2.4 From Zipangu through Dejima

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learned societies in the UK during the early eighteenth century, but was eventually exposed as a complete fraud who had never even been to Japan and made up stories about it off the top of his head that were only partially based on previous accounts. Additionally, around 150 years later, the following description of Japanese music was also widely read: . . . a Japanese military band struck up merrily, as we emerged upon the open ground. The music was beautiful but strange, the instruments, both stringed and tubular, being unlike either violin or guitar, bugle, fife, or bassoon, but something between, and of various, unique, and elegant construction . . .17

The above excerpt appeared in a book published in 1859 by Kinahan Cornwallis that also turned out to be a forgery, but this time few were convinced, and the book was rather quickly dismissed as an unreliable fabrication. It is interesting to note that early depictions of musical life in Japan were tainted by such highly subjective and even fraudulent accounts, and as will be demonstrated, the task of sorting through the available information to determine which interpretations are most accurate and balanced has remained a difficult challenge even to the present.

2.4 From Zipangu through Dejima Historians of Western music in Japan typically begin their narrative with the Meiji era (1868–1912), since prior to this period, most traces of Western music that had managed to reach Japan from earlier eras (church hymns, for example) had all but disappeared as a result of a staunchly isolationist government policy that later became known as sakoku (‘‘locked country’’). In The Music Review, Robin Heifetz described ‘‘Hideyoshi Toyotomi’s prohibition and destruction in 1587 of anything that was connected with Christianity, including the banishment of all foreigners from Japanese soil,’’ which Heifetz concluded ‘‘may, in fact, be credited with the termination of the first history of Western musical activity in Japan.’’18 Although this description appears to be mostly accurate, there is strong evidence that some hymn traditions continued in isolated communities, and Japanese were also occasionally exposed to European music through the limited amount of trade permitted during this period of relative isolation. What is known about the musical interactions between Europe and Japan prior to the Meiji period, and what role did wind instruments play in this exchange?

2.4.1 Jesuit Music Instruction in Sixteenth Century Japan It is widely believed that the first European to visit Japan was Fernao Mendes Pinto (1509–1583), an explorer and trader who arrived in 1543, and is credited with introducing the arquebus, a kind of gun that would eventually become very

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popular among Japanese militia. Pinto later befriended Francis Xavier (1506–1552) and other Jesuit missionaries who had been particularly active in India, and assisted them in setting up early Christian outposts in southern Japan from 1549 onward. The Jesuits, known by the Japanese as Nanban, would become the first long-term European residents of Japan, where their purpose was primarily to convert the natives of Zipangu (Japan) to Christianity rather than merely to trade, although many of their Portuguese colleagues continued to visit for commerce. Jesuit missionaries such as Alessandro Organtino and Alessandro Valignano (1539–1606) used various musical instruments to accompany the hymns they taught to Japanese during this period.19 The Jesuits were not fond of the Japanese music to which they were exposed. Father Luis de Almeida, who worked as a Jesuit in Japan for more than 30 years, allegedly described Kagura performance as resembling screaming from hell.20 Fr. de Almeida, who is widely credited as the first European to introduce early forms of Western medicine, died in Japan in 1583 at the age of 60, and is memorialized by a marble plaque that reads ‘‘Luis de Almeida. Surgeon and Missionary. The first Portuguese who arrived in Nagasaki in 1567.’’21 There are quite conflicting accounts as to whether Japanese liked or disliked the music shared by the Jesuits. Jesuit priest Alessandro Organtino, who lived in Japan from 1579 to 1603, remarked that western instrumental music was not considered attractive to the Japanese, and even seemed to hurt their ears, and that Japanese traditional melodies seemed excessively abrupt and rather unpleasant.22 According to a 1585 treatise by Jesuit priest Luis Frois, who also lived in Japan for many years, ‘‘To us, the music of the clavichord, viola, flute, organ, and docaina (oboe) are very sweet; To the Japanese, all our instruments sound harsh and unpleasant’’.23 Although the role of bias seems rather obvious in various parts of Frois’ account, this particular passage appears to confirm that wind instruments were taught to Japanese during this time, and that some responded rather negatively to the Jesuit music.24 Still, Japanese may have gradually developed a taste for these strange new European sounds, for Gill also reports that Organtino eventually concluded music could be uniquely effective ‘‘as bait’’ to attract potential Japanese converts to Christianity: ‘‘Organtino was convinced there was so much appreciation for the organ and other European instruments in his district that if he only had ‘organs and other musical instruments, and enough singers’ he could convert ‘all of Miyako [Kyoto] and Sakai in only a year’.’’25 The Jesuits also brought artworks to Japan depicting musical instruments, including European trumpets, some of which remained in Japan for generations. The painting ‘‘Coronation of the Virgin’’ is one such example, a section of which depicts two trumpet-playing angels.26 By 1600, Dutch traders (known to the Japanese as Komo) were also frequently visiting Japan. It became increasingly clear that trade with the Dutch was useful for Japanese in terms of opportunities to obtain new products from Europe, and that unlike the Jesuits, the Dutch were relatively uninterested in

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living permanently in Japan or attempting to change Japanese society through religion. It is possible that the Jesuits converted as many as 300,000 Japanese to Christianity, but by the year 1600, Christians had begun to face widespread persecution. By 1632, Catholicism was outlawed, and thousands of Christians forced to either renounce their beliefs, flee Japan, or be tortured and killed. It is well documented that hundreds (if not thousands) of Japanese and Portuguese Christians were brutally exterminated during this period, but some courageous Japanese Christians also formed underground communities in the greater Nagasaki area, particularly in isolated island regions such as Gotou and Ikitsuki, where they continued their religious and musical practices in secrecy. Across centuries of seclusion, the prayers and hymns of these Kakure Kirishitan (‘‘hidden Christians’’) fused with indigenous beliefs and formed into a unique syncretic tradition. Anthropological studies from as recent as the 1990s described the ‘‘orashio’’ prayers and masses, and ‘‘hymns that are unique to Ikitsuki’’ that were maintained by Kakure Kirishitan since the Jesuit period, and these earliest surviving forms of European music have also served as inspiration for contemporary Japanese composers.27

2.4.2 Dejima and Rangaku The Dutch initially traded with Japan through the port of Hirado, a precise location they had negotiated on an island by that name near Nagasaki. However, as persecution against Christians and suspicion toward foreigners escalated, their trading activities were eventually restricted in 1641 to a tiny manmade island called Dejima (or Deshima) in the port of Nagasaki, which was managed by Francois Caron, of the Dutch East India Company (abbreviated, VOC). For around 250 years, Dejima would serve almost exclusively as the singular point of contact between Japan and the western world. Japanese were forbidden from travelling abroad, foreigners were forbidden from Japanese soil, and the government carefully managed international trade through this single point of entry. Only Japanese traders, government officials, and prostitutes were permitted onto Dejima for business purposes. Eventually, European musical instruments, music method books, and sheet music would come to Japan through Dejima, and European bands would perform on ships docked nearby this man-made island. According to Takeuchi, the only definite record of a piano performance on Dejima is from an 1817 journal entry by Hendrik Doeff (1764–1837), its Chief Dutch commissioner.28 Interestingly, the earliest known record of a European woman ever living in Japan is of Titia Bergsma (1786–1821), who lived on Dejima from August through December of 1817.29 A rather mysterious sketch remains of Titia Bergsma playing a piano there, which is probably the very first Japanese art work to depict a pianist. The artist is believed to have been Kawahara Keiga (1786–1860), described as ‘‘a court-appointed

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painter-correspondent on Deshima.’’30 This is now believed by scholars to have been the first piano in Japan, and both Titia and someone named Bauer most likely played this piano on Dejima. Takeuchi also mentions a later record of a piano on Dejima from 1828, described at that time as ‘‘Horuto piyan’’ (for Holt piano), which most likely arrived sometime after 1823 while Phillip Franz von Siebold (1796–1866) was in residence.31 Although this piano is currently housed in the Kumatani Museum where it has been described as the first piano brought to Japan, written and pictorial records suggest that the piano played by Titia was a separate instrument that had arrived on Dejima at least a decade earlier.32 Since trade with the Dutch had became the exclusive source of information about the western world, institutes of Rangaku (or ‘‘Dutch studies’’) arose especially during the late 18th and early 19th centuries for learning about European ideas and technologies, particularly from manuscripts and new items of interest imported to Japan via Dejima. One of the first documented visits of a European military band to Japan was that of the Dutch navy warship Palembang, in Nagasaki (near Dejima), in 1844, although there is evidence that musical instruments had already been ordered by the Dutch for trade with the Japanese in 1841.33 Takashima Shirodayu (1798–1866), who was an early observer of Dutch military training in Nagasaki, later initiated a reform of the armed forces in 1839 that included the training of military bands, which during this time were largely modelled after the Dutch fife and drum ensembles.34 Akiho Takashima, who lived in Nagasaki toward the end of the Dejima trading period (mid-eighteenth century), became an important importer of early military drill books that introduced military techniques, including some musical practices, prior to 1844.35 There were two kinds of military music used in Japan in the 1840s: (1) fifes and drums, and (2) rappa (trumpet) playing. A decade later, the arrival of ‘‘Commodore Perry and his black ships’’ in 1853 is typically lauded as the most significant event leading to the Meiji era, in which the Japanese government would suddenly rush to embrace Western technology after hundreds of years of enforced isolation from the rest of the world.36 However, information concerning Perry’s background, and his views regarding music, is mostly absent from Japanese language accounts of this era.37 Commodore Matthew C. Perry (1784–1858) was a renowned officer in the American navy who had studied music as a young man and was very proud of the accomplished bands on his ships. In a letter to his wife, he wrote, ‘‘I have my bands on shore and they play two or three times a week. They have wonderfully improved and have become the best bands in the Navy. There are two other bands in the Squadron, but not to be compared with mine.’’38 Upon arrival in Japan, Commodore Perry had ‘‘well-formed plans of negotiation that included, along with displays of military and technological prowess, his chief cultural weapon: American music.’’39 Victor Yellin describes Perry’s arrival in Tokyo Bay as follows: A formal landing was arranged for July 14, 1853. As the Commodore stepped ashore, the marines presented arms, sailors in longboats tossed oars, and the bands struck up

2.4 From Zipangu through Dejima

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the familiar ‘‘Hail! Columbia!’’ The marines were followed by a separate band playing as the procession advanced in precision cadence. Then came Perry, on foot, accompanied by two ‘‘stalwart citizens of color’’ armed to the teeth and carrying his flags of rank and command. ‘‘More bluejackets and another band fell in behind him.’’ As one of the Japanese officials, Kayama, later remembered, the procession ‘‘truly left us in amazement.’’ Not since Columbus had there been a confrontation of two civilizations so dissimilar.40

One interesting story that emerged from this early contact with wind bands comes from the clerk of Perry’s ship Saratoga, who reported that in 1854 some Japanese audience members enjoyed a band performance so much that they requested to hear one of the pieces again, which upon further questioning turned out to merely be the tuning up of the instruments prior to the actual performance.41 This memorable anecdote illustrates a wide gulf in musical understanding which was also mirrored by various reports of how strange Japanese traditional music sounded to nineteenth century Europeans. Although Perry is largely credited with the opening of Japan during this period, representatives of several other nations had been attempting to do the same for many years, and had brought bands with them as well. In fact, a Russian military band is believed to have visited Nagasaki in 1853, around the same time as Perry’s famous visit.42 Impressed by such performances from an array of nations, by 1855, the Tokugawa government had selected 12 Japanese soldiers to focus their efforts on learning military music from the Dutch.43

2.4.3 Music Transmission via the Nagasaki Kaigun Denshujo From 1855 to 1859, the Kaigun Denshujo near Nagasaki was a school developed for dissemination of new knowledge, particularly relating to military practices, shipbuilding and navigation, brought by the Dutch to Dejima during this period. A faculty of Dutch technologists and naval officers taught their first cohort Japanese students at the Kaigun Denshujo in 1855. A Dutch sailor known by the nickname ‘‘Hefty’’ reportedly taught military drumming to a total of 10–20 Japanese students at the Kaigun Denshujo.44 At this time, instead of just trumpets, drumming patterns were used to pass important signals to boarding parties of marines during naval combat. According to one account, it appears that the other Dutch sailors poked a bit of fun at Hefty, who although relatively low in rank, seemed to become very much respected by his Japanese music students who treated him like a high-ranking officer while he taught them using the kind of drum normally reserved for Japanese samurai.45 Shuhei Hosokawa has determined that ‘‘Hefty’’ was merely a nickname, while Van de Bergh and Van de Cook are actual names believed to be associated with instructors at the Kaigun Denshujo who taught military music after Hefty. Hosokawa also notes that one of the Dutch officers was reportedly impressed with the Japanese enthusiasm for drumming and marching.46

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By the 1860s, other nations had stationed military units, with their bands, in Japan. There are records of an English military band in Yokohama from as early as 1864, which was probably the first English music ensemble in Japan, and according to Edgar Pope, ‘‘when Count Eulenburg, the first Prussian ambassador, arrived in Yokohama in 1860, he created quite a sensation by having forty soldiers march to his residence to the accompaniment of a brass band.’’47 Additionally, a broader awareness of how military bands functioned in government-related rituals in Europe and America was spreading in Japan at this time. Shive has documented how in 1860, band concerts were observed by Japanese government officials in major American cities, including: . . . some of the outstanding bands of the day, such as the United States Marine Band, Beck’s Band, the Seventh Regimental Band, and Dodworth’s Band. These organizations welcomed, escorted, and serenaded the honored visitors with national airs and selections from some of the most popular operas of the time. Several composers wrote new works to honor the visiting officials.48

According to Galliano, ‘‘In 1866 the daimyo of Fukui asked the French ambassador for an instructor to teach military music to his soldiers. In 1867 Tokugawa Yoshinobu, Japan’s last shogun, sent thirty-two men from his army to study military music and one of these subsequently became the instructor of the imperial orchestra.’’49 According to Rikurou Hiyama, records indicate that by 1866 wind instruments were used widely in Japanese military bands, and the demand led to the emergence of specialist trumpet-makers such that by 1884 trumpets were even being made in an Osaka factory called Houhei Kosho.50 During this period of less than 20 years, the roots of the brass instrument industry became largely established in Japan, but the story of how this came about is little known in Japan and elsewhere.

2.4.4 Metallurgy, Early Trumpet Instruction, and Guttig’s Dream By the mid-1860s, trumpet was a well-known instrument in Japan.51 Trumpets had been imported earlier from Holland by Takashima, and from France by a French officer residing in Japan named Guttig.52 It appears that Guttig was the most significant early trumpet instructor in Japan during the 1860s. Guttig founded the College Franco-Japonais during this time, and also attempted to develop an iron works and thereby increase the economic and cultural influence of France within Japan.53 According to various letters, Guttig explicitly requested French music specialists to come to Japan in the 1860s in order to form an entire professional band. Despite detailed requests, only ten regular soldiers and five officers were sent, of whom just one could play trumpet. Although he evidently failed to attain his dream of establishing a full band in Japan, Guttig is nevertheless credited with pioneering the systematic instruction of western music to Japanese, and for helping to popularize brass instruments

2.4 From Zipangu through Dejima

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by the year 1867. French military drill books were also imported around this time (1867–1868).54 Primary sources confirm that skilled professional Japanese trumpet makers were already identifiable by 1872, which suggests that they must have already been producing such instruments for several years. One reason Japanese were able to so quickly master the production of brass instruments during this period surely was their previous mastery of swordmaking and other complex metallic arts, of which Japanese work was already long renowned as some of the finest in the world. Moreover, according to Reed’s account based on a visit to Japan in 1879, the ‘‘beautiful machinery of the imperial mint’’ in Osaka was already quite impressive, and the level of metallurgical and manufacturing workmanship ‘‘could hardly, if at all, be matched by other people.’’55 Japanese were thus able to quickly adapt industrial models from abroad. The early importance of trumpets is vividly illustrated in Nakamura’s discussion of the acclaimed craftsmanship of professional Japanese trumpet maker, Tomigoro during the early Meiji period. According to Nakamura, there were already several skilled European instrument makers in Japan just prior to the twentieth century, some of whom specialized in the construction of brass instruments. Specifically, Nakamura cites a letter dated 1872, in which trumpets are ordered from Tomigoro, who is described in the letter as a particularly skilled maker of western trumpets.56 By 1901, a highly advanced and productive facility, the Yahata Ironworks, had been established and modern shipbuilding was already thriving. The broader significance of metallurgy and industrialization for music and its social context was also vividly illustrated by a performance in 1872 by Japanese musicians on brass instruments, as members of Japan’s Naval Band at the opening of nation’s first railway, for which the Emperor was also present.57

2.4.5 Yamagunitai: Japan’s Oldest Westernized Band Returning to the Nagasaki Kaigun Denshujo for a moment, it is important to keep in mind that several Japanese military bands were spawned by the instruction received from Dutch officers at this important military training institute and related sites. Rather than becoming associated with national institutions, many of these bands were eventually adopted by local communities.58 At least one such ensemble continues performing this music to the present day, although it has gradually taken on new connotations and even come to be mistakenly regarded as indigenous (non-westernized) music in the context of Japanese festivals. Recent research has acknowledged four examples of kotekitai (fife and drum) ensembles with roots traceable to the original Tokugawa Dutch bands that have to some extent been maintained to the present in Kagura traditions (Shinto shrine music): (1) the Yamagunitai in Kyoto, (2) the Nishimashitamachi Kotekitai of Jin, (3) the Kamiyamahan Kotekitai, and (4) the Tendo Ishin Gungakutai (from Tendo city, Yamagata prefecture).59 Commonalities may be found among all four of these groups in terms of similar rhythmic

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patterns and melody types that to varying degrees may be traceable to Dutch military music. According to Yasuto Okunaka, the Yamagunitai (founded in 1868) is the oldest kotekitai that has remained active in Japan, although there is at least one revival ensemble that claims older roots, and the Yamagunitai’s direct lineage to Dutch military music is especially striking. The Yamagunitai may therefore be acknowledged as the oldest known westernized ensemble to have remained continuously active in Japan.60 The ensemble was formed during the Boshin War (1868–1969), and performed for the first Jidai Matsuri (festival) in Kyoto in 1895, the same year the Heian Jingu (shrine) was built, which are regarded as among the very most important traditional festivals and shrines in

Fig. 2.2 Yamagunitai notation

2.5 Music Westernization in the Meiji Restoration

25

all of Japan. However, according to Nakamura, by 1919, the Yamagunitai ceased participating in the festival for three reasons: (1) expenses, since the trip to Kyoto took 2 or 3 days by foot, (2) schedule, since the festival is held in October, an important time for farming, and (3) the original members had died away, and the younger members had other wishes. Instead, the Yamagunitai have continued performing for local events in their secluded mountain community, several miles from Kyoto. The Yamagunitai perform on snare drums introduced by the Dutch, and some of the melodies they play on fifes may also be traceable to European traditions. Even in its rehearsals, the Yamagunitai has continued through the twenty-first century to ‘‘count off’’ its rhythms using the phrase ‘‘entei,’’ a Japanese pronunciation of the terms ‘‘een-twee,’’ which mean ‘‘one-two’’ in Dutch.61 The Yamagunitai has used a specialized form of music notation to represent its drumming patterns. Pictured is an example of a musical score still used by Yamagunitai, supplied by the band’s leaders during an interview in 2009 with the author62 (Fig. 2.2).

2.5 Music Westernization in the Meiji Restoration ‘‘Wakan yosai,’’ meaning ‘‘Japanese spirit, western leaning’’ was a phrase popularized at the start of the Meiji Era (1868), which seems to effectively sum up the spirit of the times. This was a very tumultuous period of enormous change, during which Japan suddenly embraced westernization with enthusiasm after a quarter millennium of isolationist government policy. Japanese were permitted to travel abroad and many American and European experts were sought out to live in Japan as consultants for development of the military, industry, and education. The Meiji government was determined that Japan would quickly catch up with the rest of the world, yet many Japanese were also cautious regarding westernization and expressed concern that Japan must strive to maintain its unique traditions and cultural identity despite the apparent need for rapid change. Fueling much of this sense of urgency was a widespread recognition that Japan was militarily inferior to many European nations, and that Europeans were already colonizing much of the world, including Asia. Therefore, considerable attention was devoted to determining which nations were best at particular practices that could serve as useful models for Japan in its modernization. Germany, the USA, France, England, and other nations each appeared to have different strengths from the perspective of the Japanese, and the most urgent task appeared to be the strengthening of Japan’s military. For such reasons, military units from several different nations were permitted to take residence in Japan from the 1860s onward, many of which maintained military bands that also became an important model for Japanese musicians. By 1872, the modern school system was already established through the Gakusei, or Fundamental Code of Education, and by 1886 music would become a mandatory subject in Japanese schools.

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2.5.1 Fenton’s Legacy For many years, historians appear to have agreed upon what was Japan’s first Western-style band and first bandmaster, but these questions turn out to not be as simple as they may seem, and the most commonly shared beliefs appear to be somewhat mistaken or at least overly-simplistic regarding this point. As already indicated, Western music had entered Japan in the sixteenth century (when wind instruments such as the flute and docaina oboe were taught by Jesuit missionaries such as Alessandro Organtino and Alessandro Valignano), and some of these hymns were never completely eliminated in a few isolated areas near Nagasaki, including communities on the islands of Gotoushima and Ikitsuki. Through the early nineteenth century, various western musical instruments, including pianos (such as the one played by Bauer and Titia Bergsma on Dejima) and wind and percussion instruments (such as those brought on Dutch ships like the Pelembang) continued to be imported to Japan, along with sheet music and music instruction books (including Eikoku kotekifu, popular in Japan by 1865) via Dutch traders at Dejima, even during this period in which Japan was mostly isolated from the rest of the world. There is even strong evidence that Hefty and other Dutch sailors taught military music at the Kaigun Denshujo (1855–1859). As depicted in ukiyoe artworks, bands from several European nations, including Russia, the Netherlands, England, and the USA had visited Japan and performed from the harbor of Nagasaki among other locations. Additionally, trumpet was taught by Guttig and other French military officers, and possibly the Dutch as well, to the extent that trumpet was already well-known in Japan by the 1860s. Moreover, military letters indicate that an expert wind band was explicitly requested from France by Guttig, but some resources for that band were ultimately denied by his superior officers. It is also evident that trumpet making had rapidly become a specialized profession during this period, such that by 1872 Tomigoro had already established a reputation as an expert Japanese trumpet maker. Clearly, the conditions were already fully in place for development of westernized military bands in Japan, so it comes as no surprise that various bands had formed by the 1860s, including the Yamagunitai (established in 1868), which continues to perform its Dutch military-inspired music even to the present day. However, in the only doctoral dissertation on modern Japanese wind bands to be produced prior to my own, its author Yoshihiro Obata wrote, ‘‘In 1869 the first Japanese band was formed at Yokosuka Naval Base near Yokohama. John William Fenton, an English bandmaster, was hired to train and lead the band. At the time, Fenton was attached to the English Consulate in Yokohama. The band numbered twenty-nine in the beginning.’’63 Within various articles and public speeches, prominent Japanese band leader and amateur historian Toshio Akiyama has also frequently described this same ensemble as the ‘‘first Japanese military band,’’ and referred to Fenton as ‘‘Japan’s first bandmaster,’’ while the newspaper Yomiuri Shinbun recently described Fenton as ‘‘the father of wind

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band music.’’64 This may partly be attributed to mere semantics, since according to various reports, many Japanese musicians appear to have not recognized differences between wind ensembles and brass bands, or in Japanese, suisogaku and buraban, and some definitions of related terms (gungakutai, kotekitai, ongakudan, etc.) have also evolved across time.65 Moreover, in any language, a phrase such as ‘‘first military band’’ can be taken to mean either the very first band to perform military style music, or the first band to be officially associated with a particular military organization. Still, even with these points in mind some of the aforementioned claims seem dubious, so this situation raises several questions that call for detailed discussion: (1) Who was Fenton, (2) what was this wind band that Fenton formed, (3) why is it assumed to be the first band in Japan, and (4) and how do historians know any details about these matters? Fenton had arrived in Yokohama, Japan in 1868, at the dawn of the Meiji era, to continue serving in his role as bandmaster of Britain’s 10th Foot Regiment, First Battalion. While working in Yokohama, Fenton’s band attracted attention, but as discussed earlier, there were also several other visiting bands from other European nations around this time in Yokohama and other cities. Although much of his battalion returned to Britain in 1871, Fenton remained in Japan through 1877 as a conductor for various Japanese bands, including both the musicians of the imperial court and an ensemble that would become Japan’s naval band. It is now evident that nearly all the data cited by Japanese historians regarding Fenton’s band of Japanese musicians is originally derived from a single brief article in an English language newspaper entitled The Far East, published in Yokohama, Japan, in 1870.66 This article describes the experiences of a newspaper reporter who visited the ‘‘Sintoo temple Mio-kioji’’ in Yokohama to photograph its bell, but was surprised to encounter ‘‘the discordant sounds of instruments – bugles and flutes, as it seemed many in number, and all playing a different tune,’’ later identified as sounds produced by ‘‘young Japanese, most of them within the temple building, practicing English tunes and military calls, on fifes, bugles and even calvary trumpets.’’ A caption describing the band in this article is labelled ‘‘Prince Satsuma’s Band-Buglers, fifers and Drummers.’’67 Readers should note that the article does not explicitly describe this band as ‘‘the first band in Japan’’ nor ‘‘the first Japanese band,’’ for either claim would have been inaccurate. The band is described as comprising ‘‘around 30 youths’’ who played on fifes and bugles, much like other bands during that period. Their music is described as ‘‘bugle calls’’ and ‘‘easy tunes on the fife,’’ and it is performed on instruments that are ‘‘not perfectly in tune’’ and ‘‘made in Japan – not on scientific principles by scientific instrument makers, by mere tuners and copper workers, imitating models given to them.’’ According to the article, ‘‘Mr. Fenton, the band-master of H.M. 1st batt. 10th Regiment’’ was teaching the band ‘‘twice a day,’’ and instruments ordered for the band were expected to arrive shortly from London, such that ‘‘within 3 months of their arrival, Fenton expects his pupils will be fit for public performances of easy music.’’68 In other words, it appears that the band was working on very basic

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rudiments, still produced ‘‘discordant sounds,’’ and was not expected by Fenton to be ready to perform until the Autumn of 1870. The reporter had accidentally discovered the band rehearsing and thought it would be worth writing a bit about, but this was clearly never intended to be a widely-cited announcement regarding an important new artistic development. Still, it is quite possible that this was the first newspaper article on a western music ensemble comprised of Japanese musicians.69 By 1871, the Japanese Army and Navy had become separate entities. Fenton was placed in charge of the Navy band, while the Army band hired Gustave Charles Desire Dagron from France as its leader.70 However, despite a sweeping trend of fascination with Europe and the USA, the lingering xenophobic tendencies of Japanese society would not allow for foreigners to remain in such positions of power for any longer than necessary. As Obata observed, the Japanese Army band ‘‘felt the need to give the future leadership to its countrymen; therefore, in 1882, Hiromasa Furuya and Teiji Kudo were sent to the Conservatory of Paris. After 7 years both men finished their schooling and returned to Japan in 1889. A year later, Furuya was made Director of the Army Band.’’71 Although early Japanese bands were influenced by models from diverse European nations (including the Netherlands, England, Germany, and France), military bands had already become fairly standardized throughout Europe by this period, resulting in few problems for Japanese bands in accommodating for minor differences among their instructors’ approaches and various tuning systems. As Boonzajer Flaes observed, ‘‘After the middle of the nineteenth century national differences in European military and religious brass bands had become so negligible that in a short space of time the world was inundated with a virtually identical musical formula. The idiom of the Western brass band is one of the first forms of worldwide standard music.’’72

2.5.2 Origins of Kimigayo The development of Japan’s national anthem is intricately tied to the history of bands in Japan. And, as will be demonstrated, it has remained an important issue to the present day. According to Obata, the Satsuma Band led by Fenton, ‘‘participated in a military review only a year after its inception. The review was held in 1870 at Koshi-Nakajima, Tokyo, with Emperor Meiji inspecting the parade. The band played Kimigayo, which was written for the occasion by Bandmaster Fenton.’’73 Upon explaining the need for Japan to have a national anthem, Fenton had apparently described the function and meaning of ‘‘God Save the Queen,’’ and for lyrics, an anonymous text was selected due to its resemblance, a 31-syllable waka poem taken from a tenth century collection entitled ‘‘Kokinshu’’. Fenton’s anthem was popularized and performed in various settings through at least part of the 1880s, and its words appear to

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have been considered appropriate, but the melody came to be generally regarded as an uncomfortable setting of the Japanese text. According to records of the Imperial Household Agency, Bandmaster Fenton later introduced the performance of European music to the royal court in Japan: The records of the Department of Court Music in the Imperial Household Agency say that from 1874 onwards members of the department started to learn Western music and purchased Western music instruments. Thirty-five people were permitted to receive tuition in Western music; instruments were purchased in 1875, and the department employed John William Fenton, a British musician, as an instructor.74

By 1880, the melody of Kimigayo was thoroughly revised, guided in part by German bandmaster Franz Eckert (1852–1916), who was probably the first to transcribe a complete arrangement of the new version that was developed in collaboration with prominent Japanese court musicians. Eckert had been hired in 1879 as Fenton’s replacement soon after he departed from Japan.75 An early version with Eckert listed as its composer was published as ‘‘Japanische Hymne’’ in 1888, however, the final version of Kimigayo, used through the present day, only credits Japanese musicians. The text of Kimigayo is an ancient poem that praises the Emperor, declaring in poetic language that his imperial reign will last forever. Through the start of the twenty-first century, the meaning of Kimigayo, which would become a required song in all public schools, has remained an unresolved issue in a nation that had struggled to adopt democratic institutions from abroad.76

2.5.3 Iwakura Mission and Rokumeikan Two other important developments during this period were the Iwakura Mission, which was a lengthy tour of the USA and Europe by a group of Japanese officials and exchange students, and the Rokumeikan, the first western-style ballroom to be built in Japan, where European formal dances were first popularized, typically to the accompaniment of live bands. The Iwakura Mission was a group of 110 Japanese sent abroad by the Meiji government in 1871 – especially to the USA, but to Europe as well – for the purpose of fact-finding and observations to determine what changes were urgently needed in order for Japan to ‘‘catch up’’ with the west.77 Out of its 110 members, 60 were exchange students, five of whom are believed to have been the first Japanese women ever to study abroad. Umeko Tsuda (1864–1929) was one member, who studied in the Washington, D.C. area where she learned to play piano, later becoming an important champion of women’s education in Japan. Another was Shigeko Nagai (1861–1928), who, according to Howe, received a Certificate in Music from Vassar College, and became ‘‘one of Japan’s first teachers of piano. She taught in the Tokyo Music School and the Tokyo Women’s Normal School.’’78 Nobu Koda (1870–1946) was another Iwakura Mission member who became

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an important early violin teacher in Japan. She had studied in Japan under Luther Whiting Mason and later pursued further studies in Boston and Vienna, eventually returning to Japan in 1895 to become a violin professor at the Tokyo School of Music. Shinichi Suzuki (1898–1998), now known worldwide for his Suzuki Method, was one of Koda’s students. The Iwakura Mission had a profound impact on the development of both western music and education in Meiji Japan, since many professional performances in the USA and Europe were observed by its members, and some even studied music intensively in the USA, and its findings were widely read by influential educational and cultural policy-makers in Japan during this period. The Rokumeikan (often translated as ‘‘Deer Cry Pavilion’’) was a grand ballroom in Tokyo that became influential from 1883 through 1888 for the dissemination of European culture, particularly formal dancing. Military bands often performed there, and salon concerts of chamber music were also frequently presented, as depicted in many artworks of the time. The hall developed a kind of legendary status as a center for introduction of the most glamorous aspects of European high culture, and became featured in several popular Japanese novels. Many of the most notable European musicians residing in Japan during the Meiji period were reportedly frequent visitors to the Rokumeikan, including band conductors Franz Eckert and Charles Leroux, both of whom Hosokawa suggests were regarded by Japanese as highly trained and relatively more accomplished musicians than their respective predecessors Fenton and Dagron.79 By the late 1880s, balls were no longer held at the Rokumeikan, and in 1890 the building was sold, but its influence in terms of the dissemination of western music, dance, and architecture lived on.

2.5.4 Early Schooling, and the Mason-Isawa Saga Henry Faulds reported that there were an estimated 30,000 common schools in Japan by the mid-1880s.80 What kind of education was provided in Japan at this time? Until the Meiji period (from 1868), the primary form of education available to commoners in Japan was provided by community schools called terakoya, administered through local Buddhist temples. The terakoya mainly offered instruction in the reading of Buddhist texts and the use of the abacus for mathematics. Although these temple schools were regarded as primitive in the eyes of some Europeans, they were actually rather successful in terms of attaining high levels of literacy and mathematics ability across much of Japan’s population, and it is estimated that about half of Japanese men could read prior to the start of the Meiji period. However, opportunities for girls and women were even fewer than in western nations (although probably no worse than Africa and the Middle East), and the terakoya curriculum was sorely lacking in knowledge of the world outside Japan and the Buddhist diaspora, which only gradually filtered down from translations via Dejima.

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The Meiji government set about developing and transforming its educational system through a series of bold steps, beginning with the Gakusei, or Fundamental Code of Education.81 In Japanese schools, bands were not adopted into normal classroom music instruction, but would instead become a very popular extracurricular activity. Rather, vocal music has played a central role in the model of instruction offered in music classes, a tradition that began with Luther Whiting Mason (1818–1896) and Shuji Isawa (1851–1917) in the 1880s. The complex relationship of Mason and Isawa has been discussed by several scholars, and widely divergent perspectives and interpretations remain regarding these two figures and the nature of their influence upon popular music and music education in Japan. Relative to other nations, the model of school music that developed in the late nineteenth century has changed little in Japan, and provides an institutional context for the model of school bands that would later emerge.82 Today, a large statue of Shuji Isawa still stands beside the entrance to the music division of Tokyo University of the Arts, a school whose graduates include Japan’s most distinguished band composers.83 This is one of the few statues of a ‘‘founder’’ that can be found among Japan’s national universities, and represents an important symbol of how Shuji Isawa is perceived. Interestingly, historical evidence suggests that Isawa was neither an accomplished musician nor a successful music teacher, but such facts do little to detract from his image as founder of Japan’s most prestigious music conservatory.84 Isawa was primarily a government bureaucrat with a keen interest in moral education, a field he thought could be most efficiently promoted through the establishment of a child song genre. While Isawa had participated in one of the aforementioned kotekitai fife and drum ensembles in his youth, he was never considered musically accomplished by his peers. Therefore, it was necessary for Isawa to hire renowned American music educator Luther Whiting Mason (who had been his teacher) to come from America in order to guide the project to produce moral songs for Japanese schools. Although he was not trained to a high level as a performer in either Japanese or Western traditions, Isawa felt certain that Japanese music was naturally inferior to that of Europe. In 1884, he reached the following conclusions (as translated by Richard Miller): The popular music of Japan has remained for many centuries in the hands of the lowest and most ignorant classes of society. It did not advance moral or physical culture, but was altogether immoral in tone. It is against the moral and social welfare of the community. It is against the progress of the education of society. It is against the introduction of good music into the country . . . While such music keeps its influence, schools are of little use to the country, however numerous they may be; and education is of little use to society, however good it may be.85

Although Isawa felt less ashamed of some of Japan’s most sophisticated classical traditions, such as koto music, he reached the conclusion that European folk melodies provided the most convenient and effective vehicle for teaching desirable moral values to children. With the help of Mason, he set about producing what would become the shoka genre of children’s songs, which proved to be a

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very complicated project under the critical supervision of the Meiji government. As Masafumi Ogawa has indicated, the Ministry of Education ‘‘criticized the selection of words in view of their appropriateness and gracefulness’’ and played an active role in rejecting and requiring revision of any song lyrics for the shoka project that did not comfortably reinforce government policies.86 Other books later emerged, and many of the earliest Japanese school songbooks, modeled after Mason and Isawa’s original shoka, were developed exclusively for the purpose of inculcating patriotism.87 One such example was Nobutsuna Sasaki’s popular E-iri-yohnen shoka (Children’s Songs with Pictures) songbook from 1893. According to Richard Miller, ‘‘Sasaki’s patriotic emphasis was gradually taken up by government school songbooks in the twentieth century, becoming the only acceptable repertoire by World War II.’’88 How did this child song project end for Luther Whiting Mason? When Isawa and other Japanese government officials felt the project could proceed without him, he was politely relieved of his duties. Several Western scholars have credited Mason as a ‘‘founder’’ of the music institute that would later become Tokyo University of Arts.89 However, his role is downplayed in most contemporary Japanese accounts, and only Isawa’s statue stands on the campus today. What cannot be denied is that the Japanese children’s moral song genre – which includes pieces used in Japanese schools through the start of the twenty-first century – was known for decades as ‘‘Mason song’’ in Japan. Recently, several scholars associated with Japanese universities have gone so far as to promote the notion that Mason was not an accomplished musician, and even that he went to Japan primarily as a Christian missionary.90 This situation has contributed to the development of Isawa’s legendary persona, as the legitimate Japanese father of Western music in Japan. In 1886, music became a mandatory subject in Japanese schools, for which textbooks resulting from the collaboration of Mason and Isawa served as the curriculum. It may seem that this discussion of vocal music in schools is not particularly relevant to wind bands; However, it is important to recognize that much of the impetus for bringing vocal music into Japanese schools was tied to the same motivations that led to the rapid development of military bands, namely strengthening of the Japanese nation. Indeed, by 1890, one of the songs popularized in Japanese schools was the ‘‘Song of the Imperial Rescript on Education’’, which facilitated memorization of an ideology promoting selfsacrifice in the interests of the state, one’s elders, and ancestors. Moreover, in her discussion of Japanese popular music at the very end of the nineteenth century Galliano noted that ‘‘a typical style was rappa-bushi (literally ‘trumpet song’), and its effect was also felt on school music, as Western music influenced the formation of the school curriculum.’’91 Indeed, for more than a century, wind music with strong ties to military traditions has been closely associated with Japanese school music programs. Before moving to discussion of the emergence of community bands and school bands, it is important to briefly consider the broader context of western music in Asia during this period, as well

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as the rapidly changing identity of Japan from an isolated cluster of islands to a powerful nation on the world stage. Although Japan had remained mostly isolated prior to the mid-nineteenth century, much of the rest of Asia experienced long-term contact with European nations during this period that may be described as an era of highly exploitative colonization. Still, other Asian nations were also exposed to what are commonly seen as a more positive side of western culture during this time, including medicine, new technologies, scientific knowledge and industrial practices, and even music. From as early as the eighteenth century, wind bands played an important role in ceremonial state music, military organizations, and even industrial organizations among European communities in nearby China, and these ensembles were later adopted by the Chinese. Kraus has documented how British Lord Macartney’s embassy in China during the 1790s maintained an ensemble that included ‘‘a bassoon, two basset-horns, a clarinet, a German flute, and a fife,’’ in addition to string instruments.92 The wind band regularly performed during Macartney’s ambassadorship, and the embassy was frequently visited ‘‘by mandarins of rank’’ who were described by Staunton as: . . . allured by curiosity, and not a few by the European band of music, which formed a concert every evening in the Ambassador’s apartments. Among these visitors was the chief director of the Emperor’s orchestra, who constantly attended, and was so much pleased with some of the instruments, that he desired leave to take drawings of some of them.93

Kraus also described the Western merchants who first came to China as a ‘‘rough crowd’’ that ‘‘only slowly felt the need to add music to their expatriate communities.’’ However, in 1879, ‘‘a municipal public band was started in Shanghai by a German professor and six other European musicians. By 1907, the band had become the Shanghai Municipal Symphony Orchestra.’’94 Thus, across the period of around one century, wind band music was gradually accepted in China, also leading to the emergence of a symphony orchestra. Moreover, Kraus has determined that ‘‘by the time the Qing dynasty collapsed in 1911, the warlord armies that salvaged pieces of its authority all had brass bands, just as their officers copied the gaudy uniform of the imperialist armies.’’95 Other Asian nations were also embracing European wind bands at this time. Magnus has written about ‘‘the Military Band’s Sunday Noon Concert on Waterloo Square,’’ in what is now Jakarta, Indonesia, an important port for Dutch traders with the VOC, some of whom sailed to and from Dejima. These concerts were described as ‘‘a favorite amusement of nineteenth century citizens, to which all Batavia listened while strolling around the square.’’96 Additionally, Japan’s changing role in relation to its neighbors, due to rapid modernization, is reflected in many song titles and lyrics of this period. Obata has noted that bands were initially patronized by the Japanese government, not for the purpose of artistic expression, but as tools of nationalism: ‘‘During the cradle period of Japanese band history, most compositions written for this medium were marches and war songs. It was, in fact, the policy of the Japanese

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Government to encourage this in order to raise the fighting spirit of the Japanese people, particularly during the period of the Sino-Japanese War (1894–1895).’’97 One important children’s song popularized during the early stages of Japan’s military expansion is ‘‘Ichigetsu Danpan,’’ used to accompany a juggling game called otedama. Its lyrics are brazen and overflowing with confidence, celebrating Japan’s remarkable victory in the Russo-Japanese War (1904–1905). The song refers to Heihachiro Togo (1848–1934), who was the Commander in Chief of the Combined Fleet of the Imperial Japanese Navy, as well as Alexei Nikolayevich Kuropatkin (1848–1925), who was the Russian Imperial Minister of War. Recent research has documented that 422 musicians participated in the Japanese Army and Navy bands sent abroad for the RussoJapanese War.98

2.6 Emergence of Community Bands and School Bands From 1893, an important early music periodical entitled Ongaku Zashi began to circulate with a focus on brass bands. During the 1880s and 1890s, many private companies asked military bands to perform for official ceremonies and dances because they were the only ensembles in Japan capable of playing western music. By the mid-1890s, various models of community bands were emerging in Japan, based on creative adaptations of the military band music introduced by Europeans. Among these are the jinta (informal street band) and shonen ongakutai (youth band), which would influence the kinds of bands later to be adopted into Japanese schools. The work of Prof. Shuhei Hosokawa is invaluable for understanding the development of these early community ensembles and youth bands as a popular music practice in early twentieth century Japan, and much of this section consists of some translation and paraphrasing of essential points from his important publications.99

2.6.1 Jinta: Informal Marching Band At the turn of the twentieth century, a kind of band unique to Japan known as ‘‘jinta’’ was becoming popular. By 1910, it is believed that Japan had around 150 jinta bands, which were very informal, mobile, and small ensembles of wind and percussion instruments that usually played very simple versions of only a few songs, typically embellished by a modicum of improvisation.100 According to Hosokawa, The instrumentation of jinta was rather simple: Two drummers that also played triangle and tambourine, a few musicians on higher-pitched horns such as trumpets or clarinets that played a unison melody, and a few additional players on instruments such as low brass, for example, who took the softer role of background harmony (referred to as ‘‘nokori’’). The higher-pitched melodic instruments often provided slight ornamentation and variation on the melodies, a bit like early New Orleans jazz but with much simpler rhythms and elementary

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notions of harmony.101 According to Horiuchi (cited by Hosokawa), when good players offered this kind of ornamentation, jinta music had ‘‘really stirring expression.’’ The songs jinta would typically perform reportedly included such pieces as: Kimigayo March, Tekoku (Japan) March, Marching through Georgisa, Hinode March, and the various kinds of dance music that had been popularized at the Rokumeikan, such as the Quadrille and Two-step.102 According to Hosokawa, there are two notable stories used to explain the origins of the term ‘‘jinta’’, either of which might be relatively accurate. One suggests that the term comes from the distinctive rhythmic sound of cymbals characteristic of the simple music by these bands: ‘‘jinta, jinta, jintakatatta’’ while another story links these bands with a town called Jin, from which it is claimed that band performers toured to other communities in order to promote the industries of their town, and thereby all bands of this kind became known as ‘‘the guys from Jin town’’.103 Generally, the jinta were regarded as very amateurish groups that mostly lacked serious musical skills, and their music served a purely commercial role, for promotion of products and merchants. In considering the reception of jinta music, it is important to recognize that Japanese were not yet much accustomed to harmony, although harmony served as the basis of nineteenth century European music. Compared to most western music, songs played by jinta put relatively more emphasis on melody and rhythm than on harmony and were fairly straightforward and sufficiently repetitive to appeal to broad audiences. According to Hosokawa, ‘‘the common people felt that rather than meager music, [jinta music] was a deeply touching thing.’’104 One influential early jinta composer and arranger was Tanaka Hozumi, who had played in the military band under Franz Eckert at age 19, but later died in the Russo-Japanese War.105 By 1935 the jinta were no longer regarded as fashionable. Hosokawa attributes their decline in popularity to two factors: (1) Violin was increasing in popularity and movie theatres wanted their own orchestras by the middle of the Taisho period, and (2) Chindonya effectively filled their role, and replaced them.106 Chindonya may be defined as ‘‘loudly dressed musicians employed for advertising purposes’’ but according to Hosokawa, the delineation between jinta and chindonya is not very clear. Nowadays, Chindonya are still occasionally encountered on busy streets in Japan. They are very small and noisy ensembles, often a duo or trio, that typically wear brightly colored – even gawdy clown-like – costumes, and loudly play simple tunes on the street for advertising purposes.107 As will be explained in later chapters, the legacy of jinta may arguably be related to the kind of performance spectacle associated with ‘‘pops concerts’’ among contemporary Japanese school bands.

2.6.2 Shonen Ongakutai: Community Youth Band Although small and informal jinta ensembles were widely popularized at the turn of the twentieth century, some towns also supported the development of

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larger and relatively formal community bands. Certainly one of the oldest Japanese town bands still in existence is the Ichinomiya Municipal Band. Established in 1895, it is a municipal ensemble affiliated with a city near Nagoya.108 According to Hosokawa, the oldest known youth band in Japan was founded in 1894 by Shibano Ichigoro, and was commonly referred to as the ‘‘Jidou Ongakutai’’ (child band). Its members ranged in age from 10 to 15, one of whom was Shibano’s own grandchild.109 The Jidou Ongakutai played a variety of music from China, Japan, and Europe. However, the most high profile early youth band was the Tokyo Shonen Ongakutai, founded in 1896. This band featured an unusual instrumentation, including saxophone, flageolet, clarinet, contrabass, cymbals and other percussion instruments, and apparently even some Chinese traditional instruments. The Tokyo Shonen Ongakutai lacked sufficient instruments to effectively play music requiring several musicians on violin, clarinet, tenor horn or saxophone, but added an oboe that was able to cover some of these parts.110 One of the band’s objectives was to develop reserves of young musicians who could later participate in adult bands, and it thereby qualifies as an early form of informal community music education. This band had a very active performance schedule with as much as 36 concerts across one 45-day period, far more than most adult bands at the time. They played at the opening of the Hibiya Jinja, a major Shinto shrine in Tokyo.111 In 1907, the first Salvation Army Band was organized in Tokyo (although the organization had already been in Japan for a decade by that point in time),112 and by the 1920s, musicians associated with Japan’s few churches were occasionally hosting bands from abroad, including even a notable visit by Maori brass band in 1924.113

2.6.3 Early School Bands Scholars agree that by the first decade of the twentieth century, commercial brass bands had been fully established in urban centers, and were playing an important role in Japanese community life. Such bands ‘‘exposed many Japanese to Western-style music for the first time. The earliest commercial brass bands, known as jinta or chindonya, walked the streets advertising everything from makeup and toothbrushes to beer and tobacco.’’114 By the following decade, many department stores had developed community youth band programs. According to Atkins, [D]epartment store music schools provided free training for youths and employed them to perform in or around the stores to attract customers. Many future classical, popular, and jazz musicians graduated from these troupes . . . bandoya were an alternative for musically-inclined youngsters who lacked both the social standing and the finances to go to elite conservatories.115

Gradually, these models of community music became affiliated with both middle schools and high schools as an extracurricular club activity. Western

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music had been popularized quite rapidly in Japan, such that by 1909, Kikuchi Dairoku (who became president of Tokyo Imperial University) was already able to claim that ‘‘now you will hear children singing in Occidental fashion in every village.’’ Yasuko Tsukahara wrote within a book chapter entitled ‘‘The Start of School Bands’’ that Japanese school bands began in 1909, at a Kyoto public middle school.116 According to Tsukahara, Kobata Kenhachiro, who had retired as a member of the Osaka regional military band, taught the first school band soon after it was formed. Yoshihiro Obata, author of the only dissertation study of Japanese band history, had concluded that Japanese school bands first developed nearly 20 years later than Tsukahara’s example: in 1928. According to Obata’s findings, the first two school bands were the Furitsu Daiichi-Shogyo Band (in Tokyo), founded by Yoshio Hirooka, and the Zushi Middle School Band (in Kamakura), led by Masao Nakamura.117 Regarding the first Japanese school bands, Obata observed that they were offered ‘‘as an extra-curricular activity, as reported in the case of the first school band and its director who ‘went to the Army School of Music in Toyama, Tokyo once a week during the 1928–1929 academic year to undertake music instruction from the Army bandsmen’’’118 Japanese school teachers volunteered their time to direct these school bands in after-school rehearsals. Obata observed that ‘‘Although band was not a required subject, it was in the interest of State ideals, and thus participation was endorsed by the Ministry of Education. By the time of World War II the bands had rapidly multiplied through encouragement from the Japanese Government.’’119 Regarding the role of such club activities in Japanese schools, anthropologist Gerald LeTendre wrote, ‘‘From the earliest days of the Meiji on, one function of middle schools or upper-elementary schools was to cultivate and complete the character development of students. Clubs continue to play a vital role in character development within the modern school system.’’ School band, as an extracurricular club activity, would evolve into an important domain for the character development of students, a process commonly referred to as ‘‘moral education’’. LeTendre has observed that in contemporary middle schools, this means learning to function as ‘‘part of a chain of command. One learns to ‘endure’ hardships for the sake of the group and to follow the orders of seniors.’’120 Clearly, such a model could prove useful toward accomplishing the goals of a militaristic government. During this period of militarism, Japan’s oldest professional orchestra for western music was founded, which happened to be a wind orchestra, the Osaka Municipal Symphonic Band. In 1934, the Osakashi Ongakudai (Osaka Band Corps) which had been an army-affiliated band since 1923, was brought under the authority of Osaka City, eventually becoming the oldest surviving professional ensemble of this kind in Japan.121 Professional symphony orchestras would later be founded in urban areas throughout Japan as the economy strengthened. Following defeat, in 1946, this ensemble would change its name to become the less militaristic sounding Osakashi Ongakudan, or Osaka

38

2 Where are These Bands From? – An Historical Overview

Municipal Symphonic Band. This band would provide an important professional model for bands throughout Japan, until its influence was partly usurped in the final decades of the twentieth century – at least outside of the Kansai region – by a much younger rival ensemble, the Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra. School bands appear to have developed rapidly in urban areas in Japan, so much so that by Autumn of 1935, the first regional competitions were held in Nagoya and Tokyo.122 The largest band at the first of these contests (Nagoya, October 6) was also its winner: the Toho Shogyo Band, with 26 members. The smallest band at this contest consisted of ten members from Gifu prefecture. In the second contest (Tokyo, November 10), school bands competed in their own category. Among the judges were the head of the Japanese army band, the president of what would become Tokyo University of Arts, as well as several music professors. The Furitsu Ichisho school band won the first place award. By 1936, Japanese musicologists Katsumi Sunaga and Hisao Tanabe had reached the following conclusion regarding the development of western music in Japan: Western music will not be adopted by our people without modification, but rather that it will be altered along lines more suited to our musical taste, and will become assimilated into the very texture of our own native music. Today is the time of that process of modification and absorption. A half century has passed since its introduction, yet the work has not been completed.123

2.6.4 AJBA National Competition On November 11, 1939, The All-Japan Band Association (AJBA) was founded, and on November 23rd it held the first national band contest in Japan, converging the Tokyo, Osaka, and Nagoya band associations. This coincided with the celebration of what was then imagined to be the 2600th anniversary of the first Japanese Emperor’s birth. Writing in 1983, one participant recalled marching down the largest and busiest street in Osaka for that occasion, and noted that even in those early years, some bands from all-girl middle schools gave quite impressive performances.124 At the first AJBA competition, military and school bands performed arrangements of pieces by Beethoven, Wagner, Rossini and Verdi, as these composers were associated with nations then allied militarily with Japan. Additionally, bands performed the following early band pieces by Japanese composers: Magnificent Soldier, The Advancing [Japanese] Flag, The I Love My Country March, Behind the Gun, Bombers, Warship, Assault, Burning Hope, Our Army, Advance of the Wild Eagle, Departure of the Imperial Army, Emergency Japan, Artillery Defense, and Vigorous Nation.125 At the height of military conflict, and during the first few years of occupation, these band competitions had to be postponed.

2.7 Japanese Bands in the Mid-Twentieth Century

39

2.7 Japanese Bands in the Mid-Twentieth Century 2.7.1 Bands After the War During the American occupation, Japan established a new constitution (1946), and enacted the Fundamental Law of Education (1947), which for the first time officially guaranteed the right of all citizens to have access to educational opportunities, regardless of gender or socioeconomic status. Bands again began to take on an important role within Japanese school life, although their ultimate social function was viewed as less militaristic in nature. According to Tsukahara, ‘‘Before the war Japanese bands used Europe as a model, but after the war they became strongly affected by American bands.’’126 The enormous span of time between 1870 and 1945 has even been described as ‘‘the period when everything to do with German musical history and culture was very much revered’’ in Japan.127 This interpretation appears to be quite valid, as is the claim that in the long term Eckert’s influence on the musical life of Japan turned out to be much more significant than that of Fenton. Several notable German composers taught in Japan during this period, including Rudolf Dittrich (1861–1921) and Klaus Pringsheim (1883–1972), to name but a few, and even to the twenty-first century music by Germanic composers was strongly preferred in Japanese music conservatories. The field of wind bands, however, took a different path. During the few years of American occupation, former Japanese military bandsmen found new ways to maintain their tradition. The Tokyo Metropolitan Fire Band was formed by former navy bandmaster Seigo Naito in 1948, and it soon was able to perform regular broadcasts on NHK radio.128 The Police Band was founded a year later by Tsunemitsu Yamaguchi, a former army bandmaster who had previously directed the Toyama Army School of Music.129 The period immediately following World War II also saw the development of an academic music scene that for the first time fully encouraged Japanese composers to write large-scale creative works for the wind band idiom. As was the case with the leadership of the Reichsmusikhammer under the Nazis, some of Japan’s leading composers of this period were accused of having enthusiastically supported the militaristic regime, and in some cases such accusations may have had merit.130 From 1946 on, Fumio Hayasaka taught in the composition department of Tokyo Academy of Music, where he mentored the development of many notable wind band composers.131 Hayasaka also developed a reputation at this time as the most influential proponent of pan-Asianism in Japanese music composition, a nationalistic notion linked to Japan’s war-era colonial worldview of a ‘‘Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere.’’ One of Hayasaka’s students during this period was Toshiro Mayuzumi, who would later become one of Japan’s most renowned composers of band and orchestral music. Hayasaka’s colleague Akira Ifukube was also establishing himself by the late 1940s as

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2 Where are These Bands From? – An Historical Overview

Japan’s most influential first-generation film composer, particularly through his soundtracks for legendary filmmaker Akira Kurosawa. In 1949, Japan’s first music education institution – originally founded by Mason and Isawa – became the music division of Tokyo University of Arts. It established Japan’s first college band in 1951, with trombone professor Masato Yamamoto serving as its director.132 The 1950s saw the development of several schools of Japanese nationalist composers, many of whom wrote for wind band as well as other idioms. These included both Yagi no Kai (‘‘goat group’’ in reference to the Greek god Pan) and Sannin no Kai (‘‘group of three’’), and the most notable band composers associated with these artistic circles include Toshiro Mayuzumi, Michio Mamiya, and Yuzo Toyama. In 1954, Japan’s former military bands were finally resurrected as the SelfDefense Army and Navy Bands,133 and in 1956, the All-Japan Band Contest resumed.134 By 1959, the band movement in Japan was prosperous, and Japan’s largest music publisher Ongakuno Tomosha started publishing Band Journal, which continues to this day as a primary resource for Japanese band directors.135 By 1961, bands were already affiliated with 28% of middle schools and 52% of high schools in Japan.136

2.7.2 The Blossoming 1960s According to Obata, ‘‘A period of great musical progress took place in Japan during the years of 1962 through 1966.’’ Indications of this progress included ‘‘a move by the All-Japan Band Association and an influential publishing company, Ongaku-no-Tomo Sha, to promote Japanese composers of band music.’’137 Influential American band director and composer Paul V. Yoder (1908–1990) made frequent visits to Japan to promote wind bands throughout the 1960s.138 The renowned Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra was established in 1960, and the Tokyo Suisogakudan (Tokyo Symphonic Band) was also formed in 1963, leading to greater recognition of the genre through professional-level performances, particularly in the Kanto (greater Tokyo) area.139 In 1966, the Tenri High School Band, directed by Kiyoshi Yano, participated in the annual Tournament of Roses Parade in Pasadena, California. Obata noted that ‘‘They had the distinction not only of being the first Japanese high school band to appear in such an event, but also the first to perform in the United States.’’140 In 1967, the Japan Bandmasters Association was founded, modeled after the North American organization American Bandmasters Association. Community music education was also attracting unprecedented numbers of students in Japan during the 1960s. According to Yoshihara, by 1959 the Yamaha music education system had 500 schools, 700 teachers, and 20,000 students, but by 1965 this had expanded to 2,800 schools, with 5,000 teachers and 250,000 students in Japan.141

2.8 Recent Developments

41

By 1969, during Japan’s ‘‘baby boom’’, Japanese band directors began to note a decrease of band participation among high school students, which appeared to be a result of the extremely competitive university entrance examinations. According to band directors, many students and their parents believed that it was too difficult to study for entrance examinations and also perform in a school band at the same time.142 According to Ouishi, the Ministry of Education reforms of 1971 pertaining to compulsory club activities in Japanese schools had a significant impact on bands. In particular, he noted that all-girl school bands were rapidly increasing.143 In 1973, in response to the changing situation, the Japan Band Association produced ‘‘A Guide to Middle School Compulsory Club Activities’’, which was distributed to schools throughout the nation.144 By the 1970s, Yamaha and Kawai had undoubtedly become the world’s largest piano manufacturers and their community music school systems collectively served more than 1 million students in Japan, but Yamaha was also broadening its outreach to include band clinics in Japan as well as Yamaha Schools abroad.145

2.8 Recent Developments 2.8.1 Through the Twentieth Century Research has been sorely needed on the past 40 years of Japanese wind band history. A remarkable degree of growth occurred during the 1970s and 1980s, as the overall performing level of Japanese ensembles surged in achievement. During this period, Toshio Akiyama, who had befriended a renowned and highly influential American band conductor, Frederick Fennell (1914–2004), was a key figure in the development and leadership of Japanese band organizations. In 1974, the American Bandmasters Association and Japan Bandmasters Association held a significant joint conference in Honolulu.146 In 1978, the Asia-Pacific Band Directors Association was founded, assembling band directors from Japan, Hong Kong, South Korea, Malaysia, Philippines, Taiwan and Singapore.147 Such meetings facilitated greater international exchange, from which Asian bands became increasingly aware of new repertoire and recordings by the Eastman Wind Ensemble (led by Frederick Fennell), as well as other innovative American wind bands. The repertoire of Japanese bands by this time was shifting away from traditional marches toward increasingly complex works of contemporary music for wind ensemble. Classic masterworks by Gustav Holst and Paul Hindemith became increasingly approachable for Japanese wind bands, and pieces by more recent American composers such as Alfred Reed (1921–2005) and John Barnes Chance (1932–1972) became quite popular. Professional ensembles such as the Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra and Osaka Municipal Symphonic Band increasingly promoted new compositions and

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2 Where are These Bands From? – An Historical Overview

Japanese composers responded to the demand for new music.148 Notable wind band works were produced by several significant Japanese composers that include Isao Matsushita, Hiroshi Hoshina, Bin Kaneda, Yasuhide Ito, Masamichi Amano, and Toshio Mashima, as will be discussed in detail later in this book. In 1979, the Ministry of Education issued a new ‘‘Course of Study,’’ stipulating that moral education (doutoku kyoiku) be taught in all Japanese schools, not only as a separate subject, but infused throughout various academic subjects and bukatsudo extracurricular activities, including school band. This resurrection of ‘‘moral education’’ was embraced by some as an infusion of positive values into the school curriculum, but drew criticism from many educators who interpreted the change as signaling a return to nationalistic policies. In recent decades, Japanese school bands have often faced criticism from educators for their links to militaristic forms of ‘‘moral education’’ that instill discipline but squelch creative individuality.149 The 1980s and 1990s saw remarkable developments in the field of professional wind bands in Japan. In 1981, the Osaka Municipal Symphonic Band moved into office, rehearsal, and performance facilities designed specifically for the ensemble near the ancient castle in central Osaka, at Osakajo Koen.150 The ensemble began performing numerous concerts from this location. In 1984, Frederick Fennell accepted the position of permanent conductor with the Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra. By this time the Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra was frequently releasing professional recordings, at a rate comparable to any major symphony orchestra in the USA or Europe. In fact, it would be difficult to overstate the contribution this orchestra made during this period to the wind band genre through its numerous recordings. Writing in 1989, American reviewer Ron McDonald was unreserved in his evaluation of 24 Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra recordings that had suddenly received distribution in the United States: ‘‘The release of any one of them would be reason enough for celebration; such a large and important series collectively represents one of the major releases of the decade.’’151 McDonald even described the discs as ‘‘almost an encyclopedic survey of symphonic wind music.’’152 In 1996, the Osaka Municipal Symphonic Band also began releasing CDs, and in 2000 started to produce ‘‘Live Performance’’ CDs, beginning with their 80th regular annual concert.

2.8.2 The Rise of China Meanwhile, another important recent development that began indirectly affecting the field of wind music in Japan was the sudden surge of growth within the sphere of western art music in nearby China. It is quite difficult to obtain reliable data, but although the amateur performance of European music had been relatively unpopular among the masses in China until recent generations,

2.8 Recent Developments

43

estimates in prominent news media have suggested that at the dawn of the twenty-first century there are nearly 50 million pianists in China and 7 million violinists, while statistics for other western instruments are unknown.153 In the field of musical instrument production as well, the situation is astonishing in China, where ‘‘as of 2003, 87 factories made Western musical instruments,’’ but by 2006, ‘‘the number had grown to 142, producing 370,000 pianos, one million violins and six million guitars. China dominates world production of all three.’’154 In a discussion with this author in 2005, President Nakatani of the Kunitachi Gakki Corporation, an influential musical instrument company in western Tokyo, indicated growing concern regarding the implications of China’s sudden growth for Japan’s music industry. Indeed, in recent years the production of Japanese music companies was rapidly overtaken by Chinese competitors. Moreover, even in the field of performance, musicians from China, as well as nearby South Korea and Taiwan, have matched and in many cases even exceeded the high success rates previously enjoyed by Japanese students for entrance into leading North American and European conservatories and prominent university schools of music, although the presence of East Asian students has continued to be more noticeable in such areas as conducting, piano, and strings, than in winds and percussion, as well as voice and some other areas of musical study. Still, one should be wary of the widespread tendency in many fields across recent years to view China as a rising nemesis rather than prospective partner. Recent developments among pianists also offer high profile examples of how achievements may be shared, whether considering the successful recital partnership between Lang Lang and Herbie Hancock, or the 13th Van Cliburn International Piano Competition, where ‘‘A blind pianist from Japan and a teenager from China won gold medals,’’ thereby, ‘‘making history as the first winners from any Asian country. Nobuyuki Tsujii, 20, of Japan . . . also made history as the first blind pianist to win.’’155

2.8.3 Recording Industry and Curricular Reform Additional developments significantly impacting the field of wind band music in Japan by the start of the twenty-first century were a sharp rise in support for, and availability, of professional wind band recordings, as well as important changes to the national school music curriculum. Leading wind ensembles such as the Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra had produced hundreds of albums across several decades, but other prominent ensembles were doing the same, including the Osaka Municipal Symphonic Band, various bands affiliated with Japan’s self defense forces, and renowned high school bands such as the Yodogawa Technical High School Band, while the AJBA was also releasing entire series of recordings from its competitions across several decades, and organizations like Kyo-En were pioneering a series of recordings of challenging original wind band works by Japanese composers. A visit to a typical music store (for

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2 Where are These Bands From? – An Historical Overview

example, Jeugia in Kyoto, 2009), revealed a case of over 5,000 different CDs of wind band music available for immediate purchase, only slightly more than half of which were imports. Japan had already become ‘‘the world’s second largest music market’’ in the late 1980s, and by 2002 was also boasting ‘‘overall sales of almost 4.6 billion yen’’.156 What these examples clearly demonstrate is that the field of wind music had become fully supported by industry in Japan, which applies not only to the musical instrument industry and community education sectors, but also each facet of the recording industry, from production to marketing and distribution. At the same time, new developments in the field of school music education were causing new concerns among both school music teachers and the colleges of education charged with training them. Specifically, from 2002 Japanese middle school teachers were required for the first time to teach traditional Japanese instruments, which is something they had not previously been expected nor trained to do. While many western ethnomusicologists, some of whom had devoted much of their lives to learning to play Japanese instruments, understandably were among the quickest to celebrate this new development, those who more fully recognized the broader political impetus behind these changes to Japan’s educational policy quietly expressed other views.157 However, in 2009 came a landslide defeat of the Liberal Democratic Party that had largely controlled Japan for over 60 years, and had recently enacted neoconservative educational reforms to emphasize patriotic education in music and other fields. This development has left open the possibility that some of the aforementioned reforms might be repealed by the Democratic Party of Japan, but by 2011 severe economic challenges and a tsunami disaster involving nuclear contamination had largely drawn national attention away from these matters and it is unclear what the future may hold.

2.8.4 Contemporary Perspectives Ironically, in recent decades, as Japanese wind bands had finally started attaining wide acclaim abroad, the relevance of school bands ‘‘at home’’ has started to be more actively challenged by Japanese music educators. Band scholar Katsuhiro Nakanowatari noted that because bands had never been officially considered part of ‘‘music education’’ in Japan (rather, taught as after-school activities, outside of academic music class time), Japanese school band directors had to teach without the benefit of a curriculum and research base that would otherwise have been generated by the profession. In 1992 he wrote, ‘‘I find that since World War II school bands as a club activity have had to embrace the contradictions of Japanese music education’’158 In recent decades, Japanese band directors have declared that wind bands are facing a state of crisis, voicing grave concern about whether there will be a future for school bands in Japan. At issue is whether the educational benefit of such extracurricular activities is sufficient to merit continued investment in

2.8 Recent Developments Japanese period Jomon Period

European era 14,000 to 300 B.C.

Heian Period

794–1185

Yea r of event 2000 to 1000 B.C.

1549 AzuchiMomoyama Period

1568–1603

1583

1583

1587–1632 Edo Period

1603–1868 1609–1641

1641–1853

1670

1704 1807

1817 1828 1839 1841 1844 1844

1853 1855–1859

1856 1860 1860–1870 1864

45

Relevant event

Key references

Excavated flute dated to late Jomon period.

East (1976) Breen and Teeuwen (2010), Frederic (1995)

Hiten images (Buddhist angels, many playing wind instruments) popularized in Japanese temple art. St. Francis Xavier arrives in Japan, establishes Catholic missions that begin dissemination of European music. Portuguese Jesuit missionaries active in Japan; Teach vocal music as well as wind and string instruments; Around 300,000 Japanese convert to Christianity and participate in western music. First known record of Japanese and European perceptions of each other’s music by Jesuit priest Alessandro Valignano, a missionary to Japan. First known record of Japanese and European perceptions of each other’s music by Jesuit priest Alessandro Valignano, a missionary to Japan. Christianity forbidden and Jesuits gradually driven out of Japan, many tortured and murdered. Foreigners will be forbidden from Japan for over 250 years. Christianity and European music wiped out except for a few isolated islands where unique traditions are maintained in secrecy for centuries. Travel to and from Japan is almost entirely forbidden. Only Dutch merchants still permitted to trade via island of Hirado, in Nagasaki. Dutch banished to Dejima, a small man-made island in Nagasaki harbor that serves as focal point of contact with Europe for over two centuries. Arnoldus Montanus publishes observations from Jesuit residents and other early travellers to Japan, including discussions of music. Psalmanazar publishes fabricated account in several European languages, spreading misinformation regarding Japanese and their music. Shipwrecked Japanese sailors’ accounts of Russia lead to published drawings of western musical instruments. Piano imported by Dutch and played at Dejima, evident from journals and Japanese artwork. Second piano (a Holt) brought to Dejima, now at Kumatani Museum. Shirodayo Takashima begins reformation of military, and promotes formation of military bands. Records of various musical instruments bought for delivery on Dutch ships sailing to Japan. Brass bands on Dutch navy warship Palembang visit Nagasaki harbor (home to Dejima). Akiho Takeshima active in importing guns and training kotekitai westernized military music ensembles in Japan. American Commodore Perry (and Russian ships as well) arrive in Yokohama with their military bands, depicted in great detail in Japanese ukiyoe artworks. Kaigun Denshujo (naval training academy): Dutch teach military drumming and trumpeting in Nagasaki. Military band transcriptions (“Oranda-koku yori torai-no ju tanhoru denshu seiyo-ho jindaiko-fu,” “Seijo kogun kofu,” etc.) published in Japan. First Japanese government visits to USA, including several observations of American wind bands. Military-related trade with Europe intensifies, including the learning of military band music.

Ebisawa (1983)

Boxer (1951)

Boxer (1951)

Turnbull (1995), Whelan (1992)

Nakamura (1993)

Montanus (1670)

Psalmanazar (1704) Kankai-ibun in Kasahara (2000) Bersma (2002), Takeuchi (2000), Takeuchi(2002) Takeuchi (2002) Eppstein (1994) Magnus (1942) Saeki (2003) Asakawa and Maehara (2008) Yellin (1996), Jansen (2006), Kuwahara (2008) Fujii (1991) Eppstein (1994), Hunter (2008) Shive (1994) Nakamura (1993)

1865

British military band first stationed in Yokohama Newer approach to transcriptions of European military band music (kofu, as in “Japan Mars”) published in Japan as Hoso Shinshiki Furoku, by Inukai Kiyonobu.

Hunter (2008)

1866

Wind instruments reportedly used widely in Japanese military bands.

Hiyama (1977)

Fig. 2.3 Historical timeline of wind band music in Japan

Tsukahara (2002)

46

Meiji Period

2 Where are These Bands From? – An Historical Overview

1868–1912 1868

1869

1871–1873 1872

“Gakusei” (education law) establishes modern schools.

1874

Imperial music ensembles founded by Fenton. Japanese musicians sent to Paris Conservatory to learn military band conducting. First school music textbooks produced by Luther Whiting Mason and Shuji Isawa. “Rokumeikan Period”: Tokyo hall serves as central location for dissemination of western “high” culture, including ballroom dances and art music. First performance of European symphony in Japan (Beethoven Symphony No.1). First music keyboard produced by company that becomes Yamaha Corp.

1880s

1883–1888

1887

Youth Bands and Jinta emerge and are gradually popularized; Jinta virtually disappear by the 1930s.

1890s 1895 1903

Ichinomiya Municipal Band established near Nagoya. First opera performed in Japan, Gluck’s “Orfeo ed Euridice”, by Tokyo College of Music students. Russo-Japanese War: 422 musicians performed in Japanese army and navy band units abroad.

1905

Public band concert series begins at Hibiya park, Tokyo

1907

First Japanese Salvation Army Band organized in Tokyo Hoshino Gakki (precursor to Tama and Ibanez) founded as music division of bookstore.

1904–1905

1908 1909

1911 Taisho Period

1912–1926 1917–1925 1920 1923 1926

Showa Period

First school bands founded in Japan. Precursor to the Tokyo Philharmonic Orchestra (which now claims to be the oldest and largest in Japan) formed in Nagoya as an amateur ensemble, only becoming professional after WWII. Takashi Hara (1856–1921) becomes first commoner Premier, increases democracy and foreign trade. Asakusa Opera popularizes western-inspired operatic entertainment in Tokyo. Inazo Nitobe (1862–1933) becomes Assistant Director General of the League of Nations. Osaka Municipal Symphonic Band founded, consisting of professional musicians from its inception. Precursor to the NHK Symphony is founded, Japan’s first (and most influential) professional orchestra.

Nakamura (1993) Nakamura (1994), Okunaka (2005)

The Far East (1870) Iida (2009), Kume, Healey, and Tsuzuki (2002)

Kobayashi (2000) Obata (1974), Ogawa (2000), Okunaka (2008) Finn (2006), Hosokawa (1989) Nakamura (2002), Kobayashi (2000), Tanaka (1998) Hosokawa (1990a, 1990b), Hosokawa (2007) Sugihara (1986) Mitsui (1997) Tanimura (2005) Hosokawa (2001)

Tsukahara (2001)

Galliano (2002)

Hebert (2008a)

1926–1989 Period of militarization and song censorship in Japan: Patriotic music emphasized for wartime military efforts. Music by composers from Allied nations is banned.

1934–1945 1939 U.S. Occupation

Japan officially enters new period in which westernization is rapidly embraced. Guttig and others teach bugle calls and attempt to form military bands among Japanese. Yamagunitai (westernized military band, kotekitai) founded; continues regularly performing to the present. Fenton rehearses Satsuma band featured in Yokohama English language newspaper; Often later credited as Japan’s first military band. Iwakura Mission brings several Japanese education specialists to USA and Europe where they observe many concerts. Three of its Japanese girls were the first to study piano in the USA.

1947

First AJBA national Japanese band competition held. Post-WWII occupation. Nationalistic music banned from school textbooks. Composer Saburo Moroi leads design of new school music curriculum, emphasizing European music.

1954

Yamaha School music training network founded.

1956

Kawai School music training network founded.

1945–1952

Fig. 2.3 (continued)

Pope (2003), Galliano (2002) Obata (1974)

Takeshi (1996)

2.8 Recent Developments

1959

47 Band Journal is first published by Ongakuno Tomosha, becomes leading resource for Japanese band directors. Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra founded, later becoming

1960

1961

1970s 1974

Influential Guard de Republican band from France tours 8 concert stages in 6 cities across a 2-week period in Japan, and has major impact. Shinichi Suzuki initiates wave of international interest in Japanese approaches to music education. Over 1 million students trained in Yamaha and Kawai music schools. First major research (doctoral dissertation) on Japanese wind bands in English language. Nation at Risk report and subsequent research draws widespread interest in Japanese approaches to education

Togashi, Ishimoto, & Bandou (2007) Mehl, 2009; Kawakami (1987) Obata (1974)

1982

Adjudication crisis at AJBA national band competition.

LeTendre (1999) Togashi, Ishimoto, & Bandou (2008)

1987

1986–1991

Internationalist arts patron Prince Takamatsu dies. Japanese corporations attain global dominance in many industries. “Bubble period” of economic prosperity in Japan.

Howe (1995a)

1998

Takemitsu increasingly regarded as one of the world’s most important composers; other Japanese acclaimed in literature, architecture, and animation, as well as audio and visual media technology. Period of economic decline initially referred to as “the post-bubble era” and later, “the lost decade” in Japan. Kyo-En foundation supporting new Japanese wind music compositions is founded.

1980s

Heisei Period

Obata (1974) Hebert (2001a)

1989–present

1990s 1991–2003

1999

2000s

2002

2004 2006 2006

2007 2008 and 2009

2009

“Flag and anthem” law enacted, leading to controversies surrounding enforcement of patriotic music education. Interest in European music explodes in nearby China, with around 40 million keyboardists by the end of the decade. New Chinese instrument manufacturers suddenly outcompete Japan’s industry. Korean and Chinese musicians increasingly rival Japanese on the international stage and gain even higher representation in leading European and American conservatories. Revision to national music curriculum, promoted by Hajime Minegishi, requires instruction in Japanese traditional instruments at the middle school level. School teachers struggle to accommodate this new requirement. First research study to identify AJBA competition as world’s largest music contest, and to describe the experience of its participants. Toshio Mashima wins unprecedentedly large wind music composition prize at “Coups de Vents” in Paris. First reform of Education Law since 1947 emphasizes patriotism and indigenous traditions. “Global Financial Crisis” begins due to deregulation and widespread fraud among American banks and other financial institutions. Fenton commemoration activities in Yokohama sponsored by Japan Bandmasters Association. 20-year old Japanese pianist Noboyuki Tsujii, who is blind, becomes first Asian winner of Van Cliburn international piano competition.

Richards and Tanosaki (2008) Saxonhouse and Stern (2004) Kyo-En (n.d.) Aspinall and Cave, (2001), Matsunobu (2009b)

Kahn and Wakin (2007), Kluger (2008)

Matsunobu (2009a, 2009b)

Hebert (2005) Mashima (personal communication)

Stiglitz (2010) Yomiuri Shinbun (2008, 2009)

Fig. 2.3 (continued)

terms of time, energy, and financial support.159 Simultaneously, concerns are increasingly being raised regarding the educational value and lifelong relevance of wind bands in the United States and other nations,160 where such bands often serve as the primary mode of instrumental instruction in secondary schools rather than being an extracurricular activity. Some Japanese scholars have identified social control as the fundamental purpose of such ensembles,

48

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including sociomusicologist Shuhei Hosokawa, who wrote that ‘‘It is hoped that school bands, based upon the model of military bands, will entail teaching that results in order and discipline.’’161 Concerns have been raised regarding what is perceived as an excessive emphasis on ‘‘moral education’’ in Japanese bands via practices most commonly associated with military training.162 Among the other current issues among Japanese ensembles are budget constraints and the increasing development of an extreme gender imbalance in favor of female students.163 However, it has also been noted that the Japanese self-defense forces have responded to this trend by admitting more women into military bands.164 Prominent Japanese wind band composers have also suggested that the current organization of band contests, while positive in many respects, may have some undesirable effects on Japanese music culture that require careful rethinking.165 Since Japanese bands are little researched, the underlying reasons and future prospects associated with many of these developments have generally remained unknown.166 The ethnographic inquiry in other chapters of this book seeks to provide some tentative answers to such questions. Pictured is a timeline offered as a concise mnemonic for the major historical developments described in this chapter (Fig. 2.3).

2.9 Historiographic Issues and Revisionist Interpretations In recent decades, various scholars have introduced new information and produced reinterpretations of this history, some of which are welcome contributions. While the three currently popular Japanese language histories of music education in Japan provide little or no discussion of bands or such topics as women educators and colonial music instruction within the Japanese empire,167 non-Japanese researchers have begun examining the gaps in knowledge.168 Some revisionist interpretations published in leading music education journals and reference works contain unsubstantiated assertions that have yet to be refuted. It may be necessary to call certain claims into question, in order to ensure that the historical development of Japanese school bands is not misunderstood.

2.9.1 Imada’s Historiography Since 2000, Tadahiko Imada appears to be the scholar most actively publishing in the field of Japanese music education. Imada is primarily concerned with the problem of maintaining ‘‘Japanese cultural uniqueness’’ within Japan’s national system of school music education,169 which he feels suffers the negative effects of ‘‘counterfeit’’ nineteenth century European aesthetic principles and is ‘‘monopolized by Western culture, mainly American culture.’’170 Imada’s

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position on this topic opposes that of most Western and Japanese scholars. For example, regarding the transnational music industry Stokes observed that ‘‘one can no longer talk in simple terms about ‘the West’ imposing itself culturally.’’171 Indeed, Japanese music educators were never at any point in history forbidden from teaching Japanese traditional music in schools172 (which cannot be said for American music), and in terms of the enthusiastic consumption of Western music in Japan, it is necessary to consider the number of recordings performed on Japanese manufactured instruments (Yamaha, Roland, Kawai, Korg, Ibanez, Tama, Casio, etc.), recorded on Japanese manufactured equipment (Hitachi, Maxell, TDK, Nakamichi, Boss, etc.), marketed and distributed by Japanese recording companies (Sony, JVC, Columbia, Epic, Toshiba-EMI, etc.), and played on Japanese manufactured audio equipment (Panasonic, Aiwa, Pioneer, Sanyo, Sony, Sharp). While the lineage of many popular music genres may be traced to Western nations, charges of an American ‘‘monopoly’’ or ‘‘cultural imperialism’’ are widely considered irrelevant to the case of music in Japan.173 Similarly the present study clearly demonstrates that that there is also insufficient data to support the interpretation of any form of Western ‘‘monopoly’’ or the equivalent of an ‘‘imperialist’’ system within the field of Japanese wind bands. However, Imada broadly dismisses any outside critiques with the convenient claim that it is impossible for foreign scholars to understand the Japanese case: ‘‘No matter how the West analyzes the non-West, the European explanations will remain in their own perspectives and interpretations, and the non-Western cultural sophistication itself always exists somewhere else the European investigations cannot reach.’’174 Throughout his publications, Imada rejects traditional European aesthetic principles, yet makes no reference to alternative Japanese philosophical traditions. Rather, through a series of articles, he has advocated the application of every major movement of late-twentieth century Western philosophy for rethinking the Japanese system of music education: poststructuralism, postcolonial theory, semiotics, and deconstructionism.175 The potential incompatibility of these diverse European philosophical paradigms is a topic that Imada neglects to discuss, and his publications also fail to discuss specific implications his analyses may have for the actual practice of music teaching in Japan. Imada rejects the use of Western aesthetics within Japanese music education, which is a valid position that may be philosophically defensible in a number of ways. Unfortunately, he reaches this conclusion by promoting the nihilistic argument that it is impossible to understand music of another culture since, in Imada’s estimation, ‘‘the existence of universals in music’’ is unproven.176 Leading ethnomusicologists and music philosophers have reached the opposite conclusion.177 Music education philosopher Wayne Bowman observed that ‘‘Foreign musical practices are seldom completely closed books to us, and we do often succeed in catching glimpses of musical ‘sense’ even in practices with which we are not at all conversant.’’178 As support for his unusual position, Imada asserts that ‘‘Japan originally imported a European style of music

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education as a product using their basic adaptive capabilities for survival to offset American colonial ambitions,’’179 and the ‘‘Meiji Government desperately tried to introduce Western imperialism into Japan for survival to offset American colonial ambitions.’’180 Imada presents no evidence of how or why Western music education would have been imported by Japan as a survival tactic, and it is unclear how it would have served as an effective deterrent to American colonization, had colonization been the intention of the United States. The key point here is not to deny the trajectory of American imperialism in the twentieth century, for which convincing arguments have been made,181 but to recognize that its relevance to the case of Japanese music education is dubious at best. Imada’s application of this argument to the status quo is remarkable in light of the conspicuous absence of non-Japanese (particularly American) employees within Japan’s most influential public institutions for music and education. Furthermore, in terms of curricular content, American musical styles such as jazz and blues have consistently received very little attention in Japanese music education, from elementary through tertiary levels, despite very high levels of interest in these genres among Japanese. The minimal space offered to American music becomes particularly evident as Japan’s educational system is viewed from an international-comparative perspective. In Thailand, or even the Russian Federation for example, students may major in jazz studies at the finest university music departments (e.g. Mahidol University or Gnessins Academy). Not so in Japan. Rather, the greatest emphasis is devoted to sustaining a Japanese reinterpretation of West European (especially Germanic) art music from the classical and romantic periods, now more than a century in the past. While Japanese music educators have consistently borrowed ideas from American educational philosophy,182 since the brief period of military occupation (1945–1952) there is a dire absence of reliable data to support the notion that ongoing and systemic American manipulation of Japan’s educational system is anything more than a popular paranoid conspiracy theory. Still, Imada presents his application of this theory in its usual form: freed from the constraints of convincing evidence. Imada continues developing his ‘‘Japan as victim of American musical colonization’’ narrative with a claim based on a reference to Japanese popular media: ‘‘Luther Whiting Mason was sent to Japan for the propagation of Christianity. The New England Conservatory and the Meiji Government negotiated this.’’183 This interpretation is refuted by Howe, who wrote that Mason ‘‘did not travel to Japan as a Christian missionary and was not sent by a Christian organization. He was interested only in promoting vocal music in public schools.’’184 While it is certain that Mason, like many expatriates of his time, would have discussed Christianity with Japanese while living there (particularly with moral education scholar Isawa Shuji), it is unclear what, if any, evidence might support the conclusion that he was hired ‘‘for the propagation of Christianity.’’ Other authors have noted that Mason’s original employment contract, and personal letters by both Mason and Isawa clearly indicate that

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he was hired by the Japanese government for consultation work as a music education specialist.185 Imada’s interpretation of Japanese music education as oppressed by American influences is also contradicted by the work of senior Japanese music educationists. For example, Miyoshi wrote, ‘‘After World War II and during the American occupation, control of education by a very centralised Ministry diminished, but in the 1950s, there was a reaction against the ‘Americanisation’, which had promoted local governments, and the Ministry of Education began to reassert control. This included strengthening the standard of the ‘course of study,’ authorising all school textbooks and reducing the number of elective subjects in junior high school.’’186 Miyoshi, who personally witnessed this process during his lifetime, identifies the sources of the trend toward educational centralization not in American ‘‘colonial’’ practices, but rather, with the antidemocratic tendencies of Japan’s indigenous bureaucracy. This process is similarly interpreted by both Western and Japanese social scientists.187 Miyoshi further acknowledged, ‘‘After the war, music education included the new Japanese music created during the Meiji period, but more and more Western music has taken over the primary position, leading many to seek ways in which Japanese music can be re-emphasised.’’188 Again, this statement contradicts Imada’s interpretations, suggesting that the current emphasis on Western music in Japan developed not as a result of some form of colonization, such as when Taiwanese and Korean students were forced by their colonizers to sing patriotic songs glorifying the Japanese Emperor,189 but rather, was promoted by the personal tastes of Japanese bureaucrats. The most notable government officer in this regard is composer Saburo Moroi (1903–1977), who had studied in Nazi Germany and was the key individual responsible for the design of Japan’s post-war music curriculum. Additionally, since the beginning of public school education in Japan, the religious connotations and adult themes associated with much of Japan’s traditional music have concerned Japanese educators, and the appropriate role of this music within the school curriculum was debated throughout the twentieth century.190 It is only with the recent emphasis on multicultural education in Western nations (such as the United States) that Japanese educators have generally reached a consensus regarding the need to devise effective ways for promoting Japanese traditional music in schools.191 While it may be tempting to propose that the continued maintenance of American military bases in Japan – or the role of American commercial power in the global music industry – may have produced a climate of ‘‘colonization’’ that is oppressive of Japanese traditional music, there is a dire lack of convincing evidence to support such an assertion in the fields of music and education. Still, the influences of American-style predatory corporatization associated with free market capitalism, as well as commercialization of the public sphere (including arts and education), are generally discernable phenomena within contemporary Japanese society, and there are arguably valid reasons for Imada to be concerned about such developments and to consider possible connections to music education practices.192

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In addition to the above arguments, even Imada’s most fundamental premise, that ‘‘counterfeit’’ European aesthetic principles have caused Japanese music education to be misguided, appears highly questionable. For example, Kensho Takeshi wrote, ‘‘In Japan, music education has sometimes been justified by its extrinsic value. The raison d’eˆtre of music education has been different from aesthetic objectives.’’193 Additionally, Kitayama’s historical analysis of changes in music education objectives concluded that, rather than emphasizing aesthetic principles, ‘‘music education has been a part of moral education throughout Japanese history.’’194 Such statements by both foreign and Japanese scholars are supported by ample data, and clearly demonstrate that utilitarian – rather than aesthetic – principles have served as the foundation for Japan’s music education philosophy, at various stages throughout its history.195 The model of school bands found in Japanese institutions is particularly illustrative of an approach to music education that is based on utilitarian values (not Western aesthetics), and along with the role of nationalism in Japanese wind bands, both past and present, provides a significant challenge to Imada’s postmodernist and postcolonialist interpretations.

2.9.2 Musical Contributions of Fenton, Eckert, Mason and Isawa An array of interpretations has lingered well into the twenty-first century regarding the relative contributions of John William Fenton, Franz Eckert, and various Japanese musicians to the development of the national anthem Kimigayo, as well as the actual musical abilities of Luther Whiting Mason and Shuji Isawa, who collaboratively developed the nation’s first music curriculum. In writing about the history of Kimigayo, some European historical musicologists have evidently been either unaware of, or uninterested in, Fenton’s role, and simply described Eckert as the ‘‘composer’’ of Kimigayo.196 Others have implied that Japanese musicians played a minimal role in the development of the anthem, for which Fenton and Eckert are clearly credited: ‘‘In 1877 the Englishman Fenton was replaced by a German, Franz Eckert. The harmonization and orchestration of ‘Kimi ga yo,’ which came to function as the new national anthem, was the product of the combined efforts of these bandmasters.’’197 Still other scholars have adopted a more nuanced perspective, with the claim that Eckert was somewhat influenced by Fenton’s original version of the anthem in the development of a new version of Kimigayo in close cooperation with Japanese musicians. Specifically, Gottschewski determined that the new melody for Kimigayo, suggested by Japanese musicians and developed in collaboration with Eckert, was understood to be a ‘‘(new arrangement) of Fenton’s Kimi ga yo rather than a new composition; and it was written down in minims rather than crotchets in the first sketch, just like Fenton’s Kimi ga yo,’’ but unlike virtually all other songs of its type during this period in Japan. In other words, Eckert’s version was evidently somewhat influenced by Fenton’s

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work, even though the actual sequence of pitches used in the melodies may appear to be quite different, derived largely from an ancient gagaku melody in the case of Eckert’s version.198 Yet another view is offered by Manabe, who in contrast to some previous scholars has largely credited Japanese musicians, and suggested that Eckert’s role was actually quite a minor one in the mere harmonization of a new anthem developed mostly by Japanese musicians, and with no significant relationship to the earlier version by Fenton.199 How is one to reconcile these diverging interpretations regarding such a sensitive topic: a prominent national symbol that has recently become legally mandated? Such judgment requires empathetic yet critical assessment of the historical evidence currently available, with an understanding that new evidence may still emerge in the future that calls for careful reassessment. To this author, it appears that (1) Suppan and Baethge’s interpretation of Eckert’s role is based on insufficient data regarding musicians from England, France and other European nations in Meiji and Pre-Meiji Japan, particularly John William Fenton.200 Also, (2) Fenton’s piece appears to have been the very first song resembling a ‘‘national anthem’’ for Japan and was apparently developed with little musical input from Japanese, yet any implication that the latter version was developed by Eckert in direct collaboration with Fenton would seem quite inaccurate. Additionally, (3) Manabe is entirely correct to acknowledge that Fenton’s original anthem ‘‘showed little sensitivity to the language,’’201 which was almost certainly a major factor leading to the call for a new version, however, (4) Gottschewski’s interpretation may still have some validity (despite Manabe’s objections based on identification of a single exception to Gottschewski’s claims), for it is likely that Eckert’s version was partly inspired by both the musical ideas of his Japanese colleagues and a critical assessment of what in Fenton’s original version did (and did not) work well for Japanese vocalists and instrumentalists, as indicated in the contemporaneous account of Sukehiro Shiba. Manabe explains how ‘‘a first-ranked senior court musician, Hayashi Hiromori negotiated with superiors for the presentation of a version written by his then 22-year-old colleague Oku Yoshiisa,’’202 thereby producing a melody that was later transcribed and arranged by Eckert; yet we must also consider that both Fenton and Eckert had served as teachers for the imperial ensembles (probably their very first European instructors), and there was therefore a need to ‘‘save face’’ by devising a creative solution that would be satisfactory to all stakeholders. Gottschewski applied an unconventional approach for the musical analysis that undergirds his interpretation, and Manabe appears to have valid reasons to doubt its credibility, yet in this author’s view further data is needed before alternative explanations attain a level of convincingness that would permit Gottschewski’s interpretation to be entirely discarded. Regardless, it appears that in these kinds of circumstances, Eckert would normally receive partial credit for the anthem used to this day, which is essentially the same as what was produced in 1880 and attributed to him in an 1888 publication. Much of the confusion appears to stem from the fact that two rather different versions of the anthem (each of which must at least be partially

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attributed to non-Japanese musicians Fenton and Eckert) were used throughout the 1880s, and it took most of the entire decade for a fairly universal consensus to be attained regarding which version had become ‘‘the’’ de facto official one, which was the latter version that Eckert had first transcribed and harmonized. Similarly, various interpretations have also been proposed regarding the musicianship of Mason and Isawa, which may have implications for any claims regarding who was more responsible for various musical choices associated with shoka (children’s songs) in Japan’s first music curriculum. Miller concluded that, ‘‘In short, Mason was a professional music educator – perhaps the first professional music educator – and neither composer, performer, nor evangelist.’’203 Isawa, on the other hand, is clearly understood by Miller and others to have been an amateur in terms of musical ability, who relied heavily on Mason as a music education expert. However, Miller also acknowledged that Hiroshi Yasuda had ‘‘argued quite to the contrary’’ regarding the musicianship and religious agenda of Mason, but provided ‘‘no evidence’’ for his controversial claims. Indeed, Yasuda’s interpretations204 are occasionally cited by Imada in the development of his aforementioned postcolonialist arguments, and are now widely known among Japanese music teachers. In the view of this author, there continues to be little evidence of Isawa’s musicianship, while Mason’s musical skills seem rather to resemble other American school music teachers of his time. Isawa was a highly accomplished scholar interested in an array of pedagogical topics, but most especially moral education, which he recognized could be effectively taught through children’s songs. Isawa evidently was fascinated by music and enjoyed musical activities, participated in a kotekitai group in his youth, and experimented with some music lessons while employed as a school teacher, but there is little evidence to suggest that he ever became an accomplished musician nor an expert music teacher, which is why he brought Mason, his former teacher, all the way from Boston for their now well-known collaboration to produce Japan’s first music curriculum. Rather, Isawa was essentially a bureaucrat and educationist who recognized from his personal experience that music could play a uniquely valuable role in education. Isawa’s primary educational interest was in the field of moral education, and he based his work in this area largely on his understanding of American approaches to the teaching of ethics within public school education, which at the time was based largely on Judeo-Christian principles.205

2.9.3 Explaining the Popularity of Bands in Japan In addition to the aforementioned revisionist interpretations of Japanese music education history and philosophy, some more specific claims regarding Japanese bands may require re-examination. Namely, various explanations have been proposed to explain the role of wind bands in the remarkable

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popularization of western music in Japan. Historian Toyotaka Komiya went so far as to suggest that during the first few decades of the Meiji Era (from 1868), ‘‘the military band led the way in introducing and fostering Western music. Until about 1879, it may be said, musical activity was organized around the military band, and it was the band that pioneered the way in what today we would call the public concert.’’206 Komiya also claimed that ‘‘throughout the period of the introduction of Western music and the attendant building of a Japanese tradition, the military bands were always a step ahead of the Tokyo Music School,’’ by which he meant the work of Mason and Isawa.207 According to Yoko Shiotsu, the band of the Fourth Army Division, founded in 1889, became highly influential in western Japan, where ‘‘they had a wide ranging impact on the Western music world in the Kansai area,’’ and ‘‘played a very important role in the history of Western music,’’ with a powerful influence that lasted ‘‘for 35 years.’’208 Other scholars, such as Rihei Nakamura have also suggested that military bands were most influential at the beginning of the Meiji era toward changing Japanese tastes toward appreciation of European music. However, Shuhei Hosokawa has cautioned that there may be insufficient evidence to support such claims that Japanese were initially enthusiastic and aesthetically responsive to the very earliest of band performances in their country. While there can be no doubt that the first appearances of bands from the mid-nineteenth century through the 1880s were an impressive spectacle, the extent to which common people were regularly exposed to them, or found them enjoyable, remains unclear, since most accounts emphasize semiprivate performances for the elite, and historians have largely relied on interpretation of ukiyoe artworks rather than the modicum of primary source documents available. To this author, Hosokawa’s interpretations seem most correct;209 namely that an understanding of western music developed rather slowly among the masses, particularly influenced by regular public concerts (such as the Hibiya park series from 1905), the evolution of early fusion genres (such as kotekitai and jinta), and eventually, a highly effective system of public school music education. A recently published major reference work identified performances of the Salvation Army Band as one of the most significant factors for the popularization of bands in Japan.210 Surprisingly, no evidence is offered to support this assertion, which appears to contradict previous scholarly work on this topic. Other scholars have proposed that the most important influences were the famous series of military band concerts performed in urban Hibiya and Tennouji parks,211 the rising militarism in Japan following the Manchurian Incident (1931),212 and the motivational incentive provided by the All-Japan Band Association contests,213 assertions supported with convincing data. The following is the unusual explanation that appears in Garland Encyclopedia of World Music: Important as military bands undoubtedly were to the dissemination of Western music in Japan, it was the presence of the Salvation Army in Yokohama from 1895 onward

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2 Where are These Bands From? – An Historical Overview that helped popularize band music on a broader scale. In fact, the popularity of Salvation Army bands among ordinary citizens may well have contributed to the extraordinary proliferation of concert bands in Japanese schools and other bands in Japan today (Fig. 2.1).214

The actual image inserted as ‘‘Fig. 2.1’’ to accompany this statement is a photo labeled ‘‘Tokyo Metropolitan Police marching band’’, rather than Salvation Army Band. Upon comparison with other publications, as well as examination of Japan Salvation Army archives and discussions with both Japanese music historians and prominent band association leaders, it is difficult to find any support for this interpretation, as experts agree that the Salvation Army Band actually played a very minimal role in the development of Japanese wind bands, particularly within school settings, and by the time the first Japanese Salvation Army Band was established in Tokyo (1907), the popularization of wind bands was already well under way in Japan. Salvation Army Bands were never very widely popularized in Japan relative to other nations in which the Salvation Army has been active. By the 1950s, the Tokyo Metropolitan Police band played a highly visible role through concertizing in the greater Tokyo area, yet there is similarly little evidence to link that ensemble directly with the popularization of school bands in Japan, had that been Nakamura’s original intention. In this author’s opinion, there are broader historical forces that merit consideration when tackling the thorny question of why wind bands became so popular in Japan, although each of the specific factors noted (above) by Japanese scholars Shuhei Hosokawa, Yasuko Tsukahara, and Yoshihiro Obata are quite valid, providing one critically important piece of a larger picture. As the only non-Japanese scholar thus far to deeply research Japanese wind bands, it is important to be quite wary of a possible tendency to place excessive emphasis on cultural explanations, yet it still seems likely to this author that a convincing answer to this question lies in the cultural values of the Meiji era, the sociopolitical context in which wind bands were first popularized in Japan. One important feature of the Meiji era was the Japanese government’s ‘‘commitment to abolish feudalism,’’ and the popular slogan of the age was ‘‘A rich country and a strong military.’’215 During this period, the primary impetus for Japan’s importation of western technology was the recognition that its military was quite inferior and would need to rapidly modernize in order to successfully stave off the forces of colonization. Meiji Japan was a society that valued industrialization and militarization, and increasingly rejected the caste system and traditional customs of previous generations. Consequently, the westernization that occurred during the Meiji era often tended to be rather militaristic even within the sphere of music education. The shoka children’s song genre, for example, was used partly for the purpose of inculcating values such as loyalty and respect, as well as patriotic sentiments, all of which are welcomed by military organizations. It served as a highly effective tool for inculcation of militaristic ideology for decades, until the end of World War II. It is clear that wind bands were imported directly from Western military units, and quickly

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became established among Japanese youth organizations, and eventually, schools. Christianity, however, was not widely accepted in Japan during the Meiji era nor at any point afterward. Since Christianity is closely linked to much of the historical tradition of European art music, its relatively modest role in the westernization of Japan is striking and unusual in comparison to the history of other nations in the Asia-Pacific region. As western music ensembles were founded in Japan, they necessarily adapted to the local conditions, in which militarization and industrial development were valued, while Christianity and cultural elitism were disfavored. In this environment, wind bands were eventually given the opportunity to thrive relatively free from the stigma of lower class connotations (compared with the symphony orchestra and opera) that had often hindered their development in other nations.216 Other factors that must be briefly mentioned here are that the musical instrument industry also played a critically important role in the popularization of wind bands in Japan, as did various cultural features characteristic of contemporary Japanese society, as will be explained in much greater detail in other chapters of this book.217

2.9.4 Fenton’s Final Years: New Data Another example that bears mention in relation to this theme of historiography comes directly from personal experience and is therefore best conveyed in a first-person account. In June 2008, a surprising message came to my office at Boston University. Someone named Lauri Zealear had contacted me because she had learned that I actively research and publish on the topic of wind bands in Japan. We spoke at length by telephone, and Ms. Zealear said that she had some new details to share about John William Fenton, but first wanted help with contacting a retired Japanese band director because he had announced a reward for the information. I had not known about the reward, but explained what I knew about both Fenton and the director in question to Zealear, and assured her that I was happy to help contact the director for her, whom I had interviewed at his own home just a few months earlier and knew was very interested in Fenton. I recall my excitement, as I cancelled other appointments and stayed late in my office in Boston in order to make the telephone call to Japan. I decided that it would probably be appropriate to telephone him around 8:00 A.M. (Japan time), although it was tempting to call even earlier. When I telephoned the retired band director and explained in Japanese that someone now seems to know both how Fenton spent the final years of his life and when he died, he seemed overjoyed at the news. After I spoke with the Japanese band director, and Zealear was able to contact him, the director shared the remaining details with me that Zealear had sent to him by email. The band director explained that he was announcing the news at the Japan Band Directors Association (JBA) meeting about 1 week later and would soon be publishing it. I spoke again on the telephone with Zealear and confirmed that the Japanese

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band director had forwarded her information to me, and she explained that he was also arranging to pay for her to visit Japan. We talked about how I could use some of the new data in my book (which you are now reading), and Zealear also indicated her preference that I use her real name in future publications and presentations on the topic. According to attendees of the JBA conference in June of 2008, there was excitement during the band director’s announcement regarding Fenton. I was very happy for Zealear and the director, and glad to have played a tiny role in this incident.218 About 1 month after JBA, I began my speech at a wind music research conference in Europe in July by very briefly (in about 30 s) describing the excitement surrounding the announcement at the JBA conference. Most attendees at the European conference appeared to know very little about Japanese wind bands, but seemed interested to learn of the strength of Japanese ensembles and to hear of about this example of international cooperation in band research. The retired band director has reportedly intended to travel to Santa Cruz to carefully examine the new data, and it will be interesting to see whether it can be authenticated. By early 2009 (9 months after Zealear first contacted me with her new data), the retired band director had presented the news of Zealear’s discovery at a conference and even published it in a journal and led an enormous commemoration event, but he still indicated to me that in his opinion he owns the information that was shared with us, and that no details should be offered in this book. Although his claim to exclusive rights to discuss Zealear’s discovery contradicts standard academic practices, I have chosen to respect these unusual wishes and regret that at this time it will not be possible to share any further information with readers.219 These three concluding examples demonstrate some of the complex political issues associated with the interpretation of recent history, including difficult choices about what to include and what to avoid discussing in one’s account.220 In terms of historiographic issues, there appears to be a strong tendency for the role of particular figures – Fenton, Eckert, Mason, Isawa, etc. – to be either significantly accentuated or downplayed relative to their counterparts in most previous accounts of this history. There are likely to be many reasons for this problem, including limited access to data, and reliance on highly subjective accounts in local languages that are not easily triangulated. This is one reason why cross-national approaches seem to be increasingly important for music scholarship of the future. Among the proverbs reputedly used by ancient Japanese sages was the saying ‘‘ron yori shoko’’ (evidence rather than mere theories). Inevitably, every scholar makes errors, but for the sake of furthering our collective knowledge, it is necessary to stringently question and re-question both the data and its interpretation, so errors may be minimized. In other words, international cooperation (rather than competition) is essential, and when dubious assertions are proposed, it is a responsibility of the profession to clarify data that may either support or refute the new interpretations, regardless of their source. Admittedly, it may be risky to openly question the

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interpretations of established scholars, and certainly to challenge contents of the most authoritative reference works in one’s field requires the utmost caution. However, this may be healthy and necessary in cases where the data clearly point one in that direction. Critical review of any statements made herein is welcomed in the recognition that the research process is a collaborative conversation between many voices. One can only hope to learn from the shortcomings of others, and then strive to avoid making the very same errors oneself. In this way, more is learned and shared, which is the ultimate purpose of any scholarly endeavor.

2.9.5 Concluding Remarks This historical account has demonstrated that over the period of approximately one and a half centuries, Japanese wind bands, based primarily on the traditions of an utterly foreign culture, formed and developed into their present state, arguably the world’s finest. From their inception, nationalism has played a role in these ensembles, which in school contexts have served as extracurricular activities structured by community organizations, particularly the All-Japan Band Association which sponsors a national band competition that appears to have become the world’s largest, with approximately 700,000 contestants per year.221 European wind music has a long and complex history in Japan, for wind instruments were first taught by Portuguese missionaries in the sixteenth century, whose hymns never completed died out in some isolated communities. Early forms of military bands are the oldest surviving westernized ensembles in Japan, including the fife and drum ensemble Yamagunitai (established in 1868), the Ichinomiya Band (probably the nation’s oldest municipal ensemble for western music), and the Osaka Municipal Symphonic Band, which appears to be the oldest orchestra for western music in Japan to have been a professional ensemble from its very inception. Various Japanese composers, instrument manufacturers (such as Yamaha), and publishing companies (such as Ongaku no Tomosha) have contributed greatly to the development of these bands, through the production of band repertoire, instruments, and specialized publications.222 Dutch and German influences have been notable in the history of Japanese bands – from the time of Dejima through the current popularity of pieces by Dutch composer Johan de Meij and Flemish composer Jan Van der Roost, as well as publisher De Haske – yet most previous accounts of Japanese band history have instead emphasized John William Fenton as the ‘‘first bandmaster’’ followed by primarily American influences in the twentieth century. Despite current levels of achievement, which may be unrivaled in comparison to other nations, several Japanese educators have indicated that wind bands are currently facing a state of crisis, with an uncertain future in Japanese schools. Previous research has made significant contributions to this field, yet many questions regarding current practices among Japanese wind bands call for more careful examination.

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Notes 1. These kinds of articles can offer a helpful introduction to the field. One concise overview that draws largely on the literature review of my doctoral dissertation and related publications was recently published in an online journal, and provides a general sense of how Japanese and American wind bands may be compared (Groulx, 2009). 2. Insightful books by Galliano (2002), Wade (2005), and Tokita and Hughes (2008) acknowledge that military bands were quite significant in Japan for the importation of European music at the start of the Meiji period (from 1868), but provide little or no discussion of wind bands in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. Gottschewski’s encyclopedia entry on music syncretism, directly acknowledges the ‘‘rich repertoire of the Japanese (military and civilian) brass band’’ already in existence ‘‘at the turn of the twentieth century,’’ but subsequent entries fail to meaningfully address the role of wind bands across the past 50 years (Gottschewski, 2002, p. 721). In her discussion of the early Meiji period, Galliano also concluded that ‘‘The military bands spawned numerous wind bands that were formed in schools, businesses, and factories that remained active until the late 1970s’’ (Galliano, 2002, p. 28), but there is actually little if any evidence to suggest that the popularity of bands waned in the 1980s, for ever since that decade Japanese wind bands have been reaching very high levels of performance that increasingly receive wide international attention. Moreover, the statistics from the national band competition indicate sustained growth through the start of the twenty-first century (All-Japan Band Association, n.d.). Earlier histories by foreign historians have taken a similar approach to the topic of wind bands in Japan, emphasizing their importance in the past while failing to acknowledge their role in the present (c.f. Harich-Schneider, 1973). 3. Nakamura (1993) and other prominent Japanese music historians fully acknowledge the importance of band music throughout the early history of western music in Japan. Still, there appears to be only one notable scholarly book in Japanese that begins the work of tracing the importance of wind bands into the present day (Abe, Hosokawa, Tsukahara, Touya, & Takazawa, 2001). 4. An examination of recent discourse regarding historical ethnomusicology reveals diverse perspectives: While Kay Shelemay has suggested that ‘‘ethnomusicologists can contribute more to the understanding of history’’ (Shelemay, 1980, p. 234), Jonathan Stock has even advanced the position that ‘‘it may be unhelpful to sustain a named subdiscipline called historical ethnomusicology’’ since history is already essential to most ethnomusicology (Stock, 2008, p. 198). The field of historical sociology also provides important models for scientific theorization of past social practices (such as music) via synthesis of ethnography and historiography, enabling insights that might otherwise be missed. Historical sociologist Craig Calhoun (2003) surmised that ‘‘If it is remarkable that much sociology focuses on some combination of an illusory present and an even more illusory set of universal laws, it is still more remarkable that much history focuses not on crucial patterns, processes, trajectories and cases of social change but on aspects of the past divorced from their location in the course or context of social change’’ (p. 383). As Chair of the Historical Ethnomusicology special interest group of the Society for Ethnomusicology, I have presented papers on methodological issues in this field at such venues as the symposium Musicology in the Third Millennium (Seinajoki, Finland, March 18, 2010), the 2009 and 2010 annual meetings of the Society for Ethnomusicology, and the 2011 annual meeting of the British Forum for Ethnomusicology. 5. See Nettl (2005), p. 274, as well as my published review of Nettl’s book (Hebert, 2007). 6. See Nettl (2005), p. 273. 7. In their insightful overview of historical research in music education, George N. Heller and Bruce D. Wilson (1992) asserted that ‘‘Present research needs include revision of existing studies, application of new techniques, and cooperation with fields outside music

Notes

8.

9. 10. 11.

12.

13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18.

19. 20.

61

education, especially musicology and educational history. Gaps remain in the present story of people, places, and ideas associated with music teaching and learning. New interpretations of old subjects are needed, especially to discover the roles of ethnic and racial populations and women’’ (p. 102). Further, such considerations require an international-comparative perspective in order to interpret the significance of particular cases in the context of global trends (Finney, 2005). As explained by Emiko OhnukiTierney (2006), ‘‘Every culture is a product of a series of, and continuous interpenetration between the external/global and the local. Each conjuncture requires a reinterpretation of the foreign elements, which in turn transforms the local, which had already undergone similar processes before. ‘The global and local interpenetration’ is the sine quanon of all cultures, and is the locus where history is made at the hands of cosmopolitan historical agents’’ (p. 16). See Hebert (2009) for further discussion and application of comparative approaches to music education history. Historical theorist Aviezar Tucker (2004) has argued that scientific history, rather than consisting of the compilation and description of putative facts about the past, is actually the study of how evidence accumulates and interpretations are proposed regarding past events. This, indeed, entails a significant shift in perceptions regarding the methods of research, requiring the scholar to take a role that resembles less that of a traditional storyteller, and more that of a judge who must carefully distinguish between conflicting accounts of what has occurred in order to consider multiple perspectives and – where possible – ascertain the most convincing explanations. It is also worth noting Iggers’ (1997) observation that while ‘‘sources do not present themselves in an unambiguous form, they are nevertheless subject to criteria of reliability. The historian is always on the outlook for forgery and falsification and thus operates with a notion of truth, however complex and incomplete the road to it may be’’ (p. 140). See Nicholas, Malina, and Mu¨nzel (2009) for a detailed description of this discovery. A brief article addresses the discovery of an ancient flute in Japan from the Jomon period (1000–2000 B.C.) that was excavated in the early twentieth century (East, 1976). See Frederic (1995). Also see Breen and Teeuwen (2010) for detailed discussion of indigenous Japanese Shinto beliefs and rituals. According to Isao Matsushita (interview, January 9, 2007), his wind band piece ‘‘Dance of the Flying God’’ was inspired by images of Hiten and the rhythmic shomyo chant of Buddhist rituals. It should be noted that this is not terribly unusual when considered in global context. The Hebrew shekel – one of the oldest known currencies – originally featured the harp of David, and many European currencies today display images of famous composers. This serves as tangible evidence of how music is widely regarded to be an important symbol of national identity and power. See Boxer (1951), p. 77. See Montanus (1670), p. 167. See Kaempfer (1727), p. 435. See Psalmanazar (1704), p. 284. See Cornwallis (1859), p. 245. For detailed description of the reception of Cornwallis’ book, see Yamagiwa (1941). See Heifetz (1987), p. 30. Despite attempts to wipe out all missionary influences from previous centuries, some traditions were maintained in ‘‘underground’’ Kakure Kirishitan churches in isolated communities, and even some European instruments survived. Evidence has recently emerged of a three and a half octave Portuguese clavichord imported to Japan as early as the mid-sixteenth century (Takahashi, 2001). Tsukahara (2002) quite responsibly follows her description of ‘‘the virtual disappearance of European music’’ with immediate discussion of the Kakure Kirishitan exception (p. 724). See Ebisawa (1983), pp. 221–225. See Ebisawa (1983), p. 221. The extent to which the music Fr. de Almeida was exposed to may resemble the kind of ‘‘Kagura’’ music now found in Japan is unclear, but Ebisawa

62

21. 22. 23.

24. 25. 26.

27.

28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

34.

35. 36. 37. 38. 39. 40. 41. 42.

2 Where are These Bands From? – An Historical Overview found this term to be most suitable. Interestingly, the legacy of such Kagura music is represented in contemporary composer Yohsuke Fukuda’s work for wind ensemble ‘‘Kagura for Band.’’ See Otori (1964). See Gill (2004) p. 630. This same passage is translated in the following way by Stephanie West: ‘‘We consider the music of the harpsichord, viola, flute and organ to be sweet; but all our instruments sound harsh and unpleasant to the Japanese’’ (1998, pp. 14–15). Stephanie West is a scholar of Classics at Oxford University, while Robin Gill is an independent researcher and translator who has spent many years in Japan. ‘‘Docaina’’ is mentioned in the original Portuguese as a fifth instrument, which Gill (2004) explains as a kind of oboe, while it is omitted from the translation offered by West (1998). A published Japanese translation closely corroborates Gill’s interpretation (Ebisawa, 1983, p. 222). Here I must thank Patrick Schmidt for assistance in clarifying specialized Portuguese terminology. See Ebisawa (1983), p. 222. See Gill (2004), p. 630. According to Minamino (1999), ‘‘It has been speculated that this painting was brought back to Japan in 1620 by Hasekura Tsunenaga, emissary to Pope Paul V sent by a warlord Date Masamune who was planning a secret trade deal with the West against the Tokugawa government’s policy. The painting may have been presented to Masamune and remained in this ruling family or Hasekura’s descendants’’ (p. 50). For a broader and particularly insightful discussion of music transculturation among the Jesuits during this period, see Coelho (2006). See Ebisawa (1983), p. 225. See Turnbull (1998) and Whelan (1992) for additional details regarding how Kakure Kirishitan traditions were sustained from the long period of persecution (1614–1873) through modern times. The theme of Kakure Kirishitan served as programmatic inspiration for composer Yoriaki Matsudaira’s piano duet ‘‘Kurtosis II’’ (Herd, 2008, p. 379), and these music traditions even offered the melodic basis for the internationally-acclaimed wind ensemble composition ‘‘Gloriosa’’ by Yashuhide Ito (Hebert, 2008a). See Takeuchi (2002), p. 87. See Bersma (2002) and Takeuchi (2000). See Bersma (2002), p. 10. See Takeuchi (2002), p. 87. See Takeuchi (2000). See Saeki (2003), p. 55 for discussion of the Palembang. See Magnus (1942), p. 550 for discussion of records indicating that ‘‘drums and musical instruments’’ were ordered by Dutch ships for sale to the Japanese in 1841. See Eppstein (1994), p. 10. Also see Galliano (2002), p. 27. From as early as the 1830s, adoption of European-style military bands had been advocated by some Japanese scholars of Rangaku (Omori, 1986) See Asakawa and Maehara (2008). See discussion in Wade (2005). For a recent and notable contribution in this area, see Yellin (1996). From Yellin (1996), p. 263. From Yellin (1996), p. 260. From Yellin (1996), p. 261. See Jansen (2006), p. 44. Kasahara’s (2000) analysis of ukiyoe artworks concluded that ‘‘a picture of the military band marching on the street of Yokohama, for example, was adopted from a print depicting the Russian military band in Nagasaki in 1853. A popular image of Western musical instruments is based on illustrations from the 1807 Kankai-ibun, in which the scholar Otsuki Gentaku recounted the experiences of Japanese sailors shipwrecked in Russia.’’

Notes 43. 44. 45. 46.

47.

48. 49. 50. 51. 52.

53. 54. 55. 56. 57. 58.

59. 60.

61.

62.

63. 64.

63

See Asakawa and Maehara (2008). See Fujii (1991). See Fujii (1991), p. 74. Prof. Shuhei Hosokawa, a leading Japanese musicologist, generously shared his forthcoming publications and discussed this topic with me during my residency as Visiting Research Scholar at Nichibunken, National Institutes for the Humanities, Kyoto. Hosokawa, personal communication; Also, according to Tsukahara (2002), ‘‘fife and drum music was introduced by the British army stationed in Yokohama after 1863’’ (p. 725), which leaves open the possibility that trumpeting may also have been encountered during this period, although the extent to which either form of music was taught to Japanese by British in the 1860s remains unclear due to insufficient data. Rather, there appears to only be data to confirm that military music was taught by the Dutch in the 1850s. See Pope (2003, p. 78) for reference to Count Eulenburg. See Shive (1994). See Galliano (2002), p. 27. See Hiyama (1977), p. 73. See Asakawa and Maehara (2008), p. 33. See Asakawa and Maehara (2008) and Nakamura (1993). It appears possible to this author that the most correct spelling might be ‘‘L. Gutthig’’ rather than ‘‘Guttig’’ (as spelled in Nakamura, 1993, p. 41 and other Japanese accounts), but this has remained difficult to confirm. See Nakamura (1993), p. 39. See Nakamura (1993), p. 49. See Reed (1880), p. 153. See Nakamura (1993), pp. 7–8. Contrarily, Obata (1974, p. 9) claimed that 1892 was the first year a trumpet was made in Japan. See Pope (2003), p. 79. Here two Nichibunken professors must be thanked: Ryoichi Tobe for alerting me to several important military history publications, and John Breen for invaluable suggestions regarding the Shinto context of this music. Additionally, Yasuko Tsukahara, Ury Eppstein, and Yasuto Okunaka must be credited for their pioneering scholarship on kotekitai. Surprisingly, it appears that detailed information regarding the Yamagunitai has never previously been published in English. See Asakawa and Maehara (2008), pp. 28–29. As Okunaka (2005) has demonstrated, kotekitai music clearly has ‘‘roots in Western music,’’ specifically the drumming rudiments of the Dutch military, yet these roots were often forgotten, and ‘‘they have been able to continue their oral tradition just because of unawareness of the origin of their own drum method’’ (p. 1). See Nakamura (1994, pp. 20–21), for detailed historical information. Yasuto Okunaka’s pioneering research on the music of the Yamagunitai has been particularly helpful, and much of this data is from the author’s own interview with Okunaka, and later, an interview with the actual leaders of Yamagunitai at their headquarters near Kyoto. This notation was provided with permission to include it in research publications. As Hunter (2008) has demonstrated, kotekitai in Japan have long used such forms of notation, including one published in 1865, described as the ‘‘Eikoku kotekifu, English drum and flute score.’’ From Obata (1974), p. 3. Tunes originally played by the Satsuma Band led by Fenton were performed as part of the 150-year anniversary of Yokohama’s opening to the west in conjunction with special exhibits at the city museum (Yomiuri Shinbun, 2009). A descendent of Fenton was also brought to Japan to conduct a military band at the site of Japan’s ‘‘first band’’ in Yokohama (Yomiuri Shinbun, 2008). Nakamura (2002, p. 727) also describes this band as ‘‘the first Japanese military ensemble.’’

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65. See Nakayama (1995) and Shiotsu (1992) for detailed discussion. Additionally, as Yamamoto recently indicated (2008, p. 98), the relationship between Dutch military music theory and kotekitai (fife and drum ensembles) is not yet fully considered in historical discussions within Japan. 66. The Far East (1870). 67. The Far East (1870), p. 3. 68. The Far East (1870), p. 6. 69. Local English-language newspapers in Yokohama during the 1860s and 1870s, such as Japan Herald, Japan Gazette, Japan Mail (and The Far East), were the ‘‘first to be commercially circulated in Japan’’ (Kamiya & Kato, 2009). News journalism was later enthusiastically adopted by Japanese, and would become a major national phenomenon. 70. See Obata (1974), pp. 3–5. The spelling indicated here seems most likely to this author, although Obata spells the surname ‘‘Daguerron’’ and ‘‘Dragon’’ is used in some other accounts. 71. See Obata (1974), p. 7. This is corroborated by Galliano, however in that account Kudo’s first name is indicated as Sadaji rather than Teiji, and these two are described as ‘‘the first Japanese musicians to be sent to study abroad’’ (Galliano, 2002, p. 40). 72. See Flaes (2000), pp. 9–10. 73. See Obata (1974), p. 8. Fenton’s composition has often been called ‘‘the first Kimigayo’’ among Japanese band directors, although this original version used a melody that was very different from subsequent versions that would follow. Fenton’s version was actually called ‘‘National Anthem,’’ while subsequent versions, which underwent further revisions (even after Franz Eckert and Japanese colleagues selected a gagaku-inspired melody that serves as the basis for the anthem to this day), have literally used the title ‘‘Kimigayo.’’ Since Japan lacked an official national anthem until 1999, ‘‘Kimigayo’’ has served as the de facto anthem and has also been used as a more general term to connote each version of ‘‘national anthem’’ in Japan’s history. Viewed in this way, it is not necessarily erroneous for Japanese band directors to refer to Fenton’s version as ‘‘a Kimigayo.’’ 74. From Kobayashi (2000), p. 59. Fenton reportedly began to teach the court musicians (gakunin) in 1878 (Galliano, 2002, p. 28). It is partly for these reasons that John William Fenton is referred to as the ‘‘Father of western music in Japan’’ among some Japanese band directors and other instrumental conductors. 75. Interestingly, Franz Eckert is not mentioned in the only previous doctoral dissertation on Japanese wind band history (Obata, 1974). Peter Burt’s recent description seems entirely accurate: ‘‘Fenton’s band acquired its own instruments from England in 1870 and later became the official band of the Japanese navy, its directorship passing in 1879 to the Prussian musician Franz Eckert (1852–1916)’’ (Burt, 2006, p. 9). Burt’s account – quite understandably due to its sharp focus – makes little mention of the broader context of brass instruments and military bands in Japan prior to Fenton’s Satsuma Band but responsibly offers no unsubstantiated claims. Despite its growing importance as a revered public symbol and legally mandated song in Japanese schools, it would not be any exaggeration to suggest that many Japanese have known little or nothing about the actual history of Kimigayo. According to Lebra, the fact that Kimigayo was composed ‘‘with the help of an invited German musician’’ turned out to be ‘‘a shocking postwar revelation for Japanese’’ (Lebra, 2004, p. 266). 76. See Roesgaard (1998) and Sugimoto (1997). Although the brief Taisho era (1912–1926) is widely characterized as a period of ‘‘democratic reform’’ most scholars consider the extent of actual democratic practices during this period to have been relatively limited despite the valiant efforts of Inazo Nitobe and others. See Aspinall and Cave (2001) and Matsunobu (2009b) for detailed description of recent incidents surrounding the required singing of Kimigayo in Japanese schools. 77. See Kume et al. (2002) for complete documentation of the Iwakura Mission, which contains many references to specific observations of concerts abroad, including wind bands.

Notes

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78. See Howe (1993/1994), p. 103. Also see Howe (1995b). Most of this information concerning Nagai and Koda is gleaned from Howe’s descriptions (1993/1994, pp. 103–106). One indication of how much Japanese attitudes toward singing would change is the fact that although music became a required subject in Japanese schools by 1886, male students from the Iwakura Mission who studied at Rice Grammar School in Boston were excused from singing. One of them, Chokichi Kikkawa wrote that ‘‘we had in those days the old Japanese notion that singing was vulgar’’ (Adal, 2009, pp. 120–121). 79. See Finn (2006), pp. 230–235 for a general description of Rokumeikan that largely served as a basis for the brief summary offered here. Also see Hosokawa (1989), pp. 94–95 for discussion of the Rokumeikan’s musical significance. 80. See Faulds (1888), p. 209. 81. See Ministry of Education (1980). 82. See Tsukahara (2001), and also Wade (2005), pp. 10–16. 83. Personal observation, courtyard of Tokyo University of Arts, 2005. 84. See Eppstein (1985) for further discussion. 85. Provided in translation in Miller (2004), p. 164. As Groemer (2004) has demonstrated, there was no unified sense of what ‘‘Japanese music’’ constituted during this period. 86. See Ogawa (2000), p. 330. 87. See Miller (2004), p. 207. 88. From Miller (2004), p. 117. It should be noted that many prominent Japanese intellectuals of this time advocated a democratic and empowering approach to education but failed to attain their objectives due to strong resistance from those with differing views. The cosmopolitan and egalitarian orientation toward moral education espoused by such intellectuals as Iso Abe and Inazo Nitobe, for example, was strikingly different from that of Tetsujiro Inoue, who emphasized allegiance and sacrifice to the Emperor (Gavin, 2004). 89. Two such examples include Heifetz (1987), p. 31, and May (1963), p. 115. It should also be noted that Isawa has been described as an ‘‘autocratic Ministry official’’ (Burt, 2006, p. 10), and one historical investigation into the role of foreign experts during the Meiji period concluded that ‘‘The Japanese had no intention of allowing these foreigners to have any real control over actual policy-making functions’’ (Beauchamp, 1976, p. 42). 90. Notable examples are discussed in Ogawa (1991), p. 127, and include the work of Yasuda (1993). 91. See Galliano (2002), p. 29. Another notable song from required music textbooks during the height of nationalism has lyrics that describe a boy who becomes a soldier, and celebrates how the rappa (trumpet) ‘‘did not leave his mouth even as he was killed in battle.’’ This ultra-patriotic example, now displayed in the Kyoto Municipal Museum of School History (as of 2010), vividly demonstrates the symbolic role of brass instruments in the construction of Japanese nationalism among youth. However, in addition to songs with such themes, many Japanese school songs merely celebrate images of nature, good manners, and admirable attitudes conveyed via stories of childhood, including that of the famous intellectual leader Kinjiro Ninomiya (1787–1856). 92. See Kraus (1989), p. 3. 93. See Staunton (1797) p. 162. 94. See Kraus (1989), p. 4. 95. See Kraus (1989), p. 4. 96. See Magnus (1942), pp. 545–546. 97. See Obata (1974), p. 8. 98. See Tanimura (2005), p. 64. 99. See Hosokawa (2007, 1990a, 1990b). Also see Saiki (2008) for discussion of early industrial and community bands in Japan. 100. See Hosokawa (1990a), p. 104. 101. See Hosokawa (1990a), p. 104. 102. See Horiuchi (1935) and Hosokawa (1990a), p. 104.

66 103. 104. 105. 106. 107. 108. 109. 110. 111. 112. 113. 114. 115. 116.

117.

118. 119. 120. 121.

122. 123.

124.

125.

126. 127. 128. 129. 130.

2 Where are These Bands From? – An Historical Overview See Hosokawa (1990a), pp. 102–103. See Hosokawa (1990a), p. 103. See Hosokawa (1990a), p. 105. See Hosokawa (1990a), p. 105. See Fritsch (2001). See Sugihara (1986). See Hosokawa (1990b), p. 130. See Hosokawa (1990b), p. 131. See Hosokawa (1990b), p. 131. For information on the Salvation Army Bands in Japan, see Nakayama (1995) and Suzuki (1995). For further details regarding the Maori band’s visit to Japan in 1924 see Hebert (2008b). From Atkins (1997), p. 49. From Atkins (1997), p. 50. Kikuchi Dairoku is discussed in Adal (2009), p. 160. Prof. Yasuko Tsukahara, a leading historian of western music in Japan, has thoroughly investigated the early history of Japanese bands. See Tsukahara (2001), p. 115. See Obata (1974), p. 10. Although the primary impetus for adopting bands into Japanese schools appears to have arisen organically from an appreciation of the opportunities afforded by both military and community bands in various localities, Japanese educators were surely also aware of the existence of school bands in the USA and other nations. Notable early school bands in the USA include the Boston Farm School Band (c.1857) and the Chicago Reform School Band (c.1862), but there were many others by the start of the twentieth century. See Humphreys (1992), Hash (2007), and Thompson Island Outward Bound (n.d.) for further details. From Obata (1974), p. 12. From Obata (1974), p. 12. See LeTendre (1998), p. 278. This is discussed in the band’s own official accounts of its history. See Osakashi Ongakudan (2003), pp. 16–17. Note that the band’s history is traceable to 1923, fully 3 years older than the NHK Symphony Orchestra which bills itself as ‘‘Japan’s first professional orchestra established on October 5, 1926,’’ according to its homepage and promotional materials (NHK Symphony Orchestra, n.d.). See Ouishi (1983), pp. 194–196. Note that this is only about a decade after a national school band contest was held in the USA (Holz, 1962; Moore, 1972). See Sunaga and Tanabe (1936), pp. 59–60. Based on various examples of musical hybridity among creative musicians in Japan, I have also produced a theoretical model that may be helpful in analysis of the approaches taken by Japanese composers (Hebert, 2011). See Ouishi (1983), p. 196. It is also worth noting that just a few years prior, in 1932, Japan’s first national Children’s Song Competition had been founded by Norisugi Kajo, with competing choruses from 82 boys’ schools and 120 girls’ schools representing 22 prefectures broadcast on Japanese radio (Tsutsumi, 2007, pp. 11–12). This too would become a major annual event, with fewer participants than the band contest yet relatively more effective publicity due to public broadcasts. My translations, in collaboration with Dr. Koji Matsunobu. This is discussed in AJBA contest programs and in the organization’s own official account of its history. See Hiramatsu et al. (1998) for further details. From Tsukahara (2001), p. 119. See Galliano (2002), p. 41. See Obata (1974), p. 19. See Obata (1974), p. 23. See Fukunaka (2008).

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131. See Garrett (1998), p. 84. Garrett’s ‘‘pianocentric’’ dissertation provides another fascinating perspective on the history of western music in Japan, as does a recent publication on the history of guitar in Japan by Takeuchi (2011). 132. See Obata (1974), p. 33. 133. See Obata (1974), p. 49. 134. See Obata (1974), p. 61. 135. See Ouishi (1983), p. 203. 136. See Ouishi (1983), p. 205. 137. From Obata (1974), p. 106. 138. See Kelly (1996) for biography of Paul Yoder. 139. See Hebert (2001a), p. 217 for discussion of Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra. Also see Obata (1974), p. 106. 140. From Obata (1974), p. 85. 141. See Yoshihara (2007) p. 35. 142. See Ouishi (1983), p. 212. 143. See Ouishi (1983), p. 214. 144. See Ouishi (1983), p. 216. 145. See Mitsui (1997), p. 171. 146. See Ouishi (1983), p. 217. Joint ABA/JBA meetings were subsequently held in 1980, 1984, 1987, and 1995. Toshio Akiyama was personally involved in organizing such events. He is deservedly respected for leading the development of Japanese wind bands for many decades, and has been a highly visible figure at the nexus of international relations in Japan’s wind band scene. Akiyama’s unconventional approach to ‘‘history’’ writing, however, raises various concerns among careful readers. 147. See Ouishi (1983), p. 221. 148. See Chapter 9 of this book for detailed discussion of Japanese band composers, and Chapter 13 provides discussion of the Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra. 149. In an essay entitled ‘‘The importance of studying teaching conduct in school band instruction’’, educationist Manabu Koide acknowledged the current need for systematic research on school bands (Koide, 2000). Koide categorized and described (with a remarkable lack of inhibition) several problems he identified in the field of Japanese school band clubs. In the category of problems for students, he noted three main concerns: ‘‘(1) strange disciplinary policies, (2) infestation of bullying and sadistic teaching, and (3) the tragic results of overly-competitive emphases’’ (Koide, 2000, p. 21). In the category of problems for teachers, Koide also identified three issues: (1) the extreme time commitment required of club activities (such as band) interferes with teachers’ preparation for academic classes, (2) band directors are evaluated on how their groups score at contests, rather than other factors, and (3) band directors tend to be pressured to engage in many activities outside their field of expertise as teachers, particularly in the area of fundraising (Koide, 2000, p. 21). In the same volume as Koide, Masakazu Shinzanno’s essay also identified six problems associated with current practices in Japanese school band clubs: (1) band clubs require substantial time from students who are already quite busy, (2) influences of jougekankei (senior/junior hierarchical relationships) and tokuikutekina shido (moral education) are widespread in club activities and may sometimes place inappropriate pressures on student members, (3) band club teachers use inadequate instructional techniques, (4) it is quite difficult to obtain the funding necessary for successful band club activities, (5) evaluation of band directors places too much emphasis on the scores their ensemble obtains at contests, and (6) there are problems with poor retention of band students and an increasing gender imbalance in favor of female students (Shinzanno, 2000, pp. 117–118). 150. See Osakashi Ongakudan (2003). 151. From McDonald (1989), p. 91 152. From McDonald (1989), p. 101.

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153. See Tommasini (2008). This figure of ‘‘around 50 million’’ was also corroborated in the author’s discussions with representatives from several of China’s largest musical instrument companies at the International Society for Music Education conference in Beijing, August, 2010. 154. See Kahn and Wakin (2007). Also see Kluger (2008). 155. See Taipei Times (2009). 156. For these figures on Japan’s music market, see Stephens (2008) p. 1. See Kyo-En (n.d.) for further information regarding recordings of Japanese wind band compositions. The estimate described at Jeugia (in Kyoto, 2009) was carefully calculated with a wind band director colleague as we happily perused the shelves of a music store during my residency at Nichibunken. 157. See Matsunobu (2009a, pp. 262–267; 2009b) and Isoda (2010) for richly nuanced and informed discussion of these complicated matters. On observing this recent shift in policy, Nakao also wrote that ‘‘traditional Japanese music has been conspicuous by its absence in music education. The skilled craftsmen who make traditional Japanese instruments were on the verge of extinction’’ (Nakao, 2004, p. 108). Johnson (2004) described this situation as a ‘‘state imposed rediscovery of an imagined roots,’’ astutely noting that ‘‘Such a process not only reinvents tradition, but it also reinvents culture,’’ and moreover, ‘‘The place of hogaku in music education points to cultural nationalism. It is a celebration of what was historically a small part of Japanese culture that was restricted in pre-Meiji times to a small portion of the society’’ (pp. 153–155). Roy Starrs also acknowledged that Japanese traditional music had ‘‘now become one of the cultural objects privileged by those nationalists who wish to replace ‘modern Western’ instruments with ‘traditional Japanese’ ones as a compulsory part of the school curriculum’’ (Starrs, 2004, p. 12). Other significant curricular reforms affecting music programs in early twenty-first century Japan have been the adoption of an Integrated Studies unit (which may entail music in combination with other fields), and the enforcement of Kimigayo singing. See Hamamoto (2009) for discussion of Integrated Studies, and Matsunobu (2009b) and Aspinall and Cave (2001) for discussion of the Kimigayo requirement. 158. See Nakanowatari (1992), pp. 12–13. 159. There are many articles from the mid-1990s onward by Japanese scholars that describe the precarious ‘‘crisis’’ state of school bands in Japan (e.g. Kitayama, 1998; Koide, 2000; Nakanowatari, 1994). In Kikan Ongaku Kyoiku Kenkyu (‘‘Music Education Research Quarterly’’), Shoichi Yagi addressed the time management challenges faced by both the teachers required to coach school clubs (such as band) and the over-worked students who participate in them (Yagi, 1991). He proposed that the essential musical needs of students are already being served by academic music courses, and that in recent years school bands have become too highly structured and competitive to any longer fulfill the primarily social role that had been their raison d’eˆtre, as student clubs. Yagi wrote, ‘‘My conclusion is that wind band clubs should be turned over to community education’’ (Yagi, 1991, p. 191). He challenged the profession to recognize that the possibility of eliminating school bands, and instead having students participate in community bands, should be ‘‘seriously discussed.’’ According to Yagi, the increased involvement and enthusiasm for band activities among students detracts from academic work and other responsibilities, and the increased requirements that the coaching of band clubs has placed on music teachers (only rarely corresponding to higher salaries or recognition from their administrators), has made their jobs unmanageable. Prof. Mitsuko Isoda, a doctoral graduate of Prof. Yagi, must be profusely thanked here for kindly guiding my understanding of Yagi’s work. 160. See Allsup and Benedict (2008), Jones (2008), and Johnson (2009) for some notable recent examples of American educators’ critiques of the school band movement. 161. See Hosokawa (2001), p. 76.

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162. See Shinzanno (2000), pp. 117–118. 163. See Shinzanno (2000), pp. 117–118. Also see Benesse (n.d.) for recent statistics on music participation by age and gender, and Shinzanno (2004) for a concise and updated discussion of these and related issues, as well as Tanaka (1998) on implications of these developments for the musical instrument industry. It is important to acknowledge that in other nations as well, including the USA, the music industry has largely shaped the kinds of instrumental instruction offered in schools throughout much of their history (Humphreys, 1992). 164. See Tanimura (2008), pp. 94–95. 165. See Hebert (2001b) for specific examples of composers’ perceptions. 166. Katsuhiro Nakanowatari’s (1992) statement that ‘‘There is insufficient educational research on the topic of student clubs, and inevitably conclusions precede [empirical findings]’’ (p. 13), along with Tsukada’s (1998) assertion that ‘‘research on school bands should be done in a new way’’ (p. 33) suggest indigenous recognition of the need for systematic research as a way of better understanding the problems faced by Japanese school bands. The research on which this book is based has sought to start filling this gap in knowledge. 167. Currently, three histories are especially popular in Japan, each of which takes a very traditional approach (Mashino, 1986; Kimura, 1993; Tomoda, 1996). Nishizaka (2002) discusses the problematic lack of scholarship on women within Japanese musicology. Also, see Hebert (2009) for international-comparative discussion of this phenomenon of disjuncture in music education history. 168. Several scholars have begun to examine such topics (Hebert, 2000; Howe, 1995a; Stevens, 2000; Southcott & Lee, 2003, Lee, 2002). See Groemer (2004) for a broader critique of widespread problems in Japanese music scholarship, many of which are quite evident in the field of wind band research. 169. See Imada (2000), p. 19. This section will largely consist of a critique of Imada’s interpretations. Imada writes mostly in a philosophical idiom in which critiques of this kind are commonplace (see the journals Philosophy of Music Education Review and Action, Criticism and Theory for Music Education for examples). It should be understood that my intentions here are to engage in genuine scholarly debate, and I welcome Imada’s response. Despite disagreement with his interpretations, I recognize that he is a thoughtful scholar who is admirably concerned with the challenges of interpreting and improving the state of music education in Japan. 170. From Imada (1997), p. 83. 171. From Stokes (2003), p. 301. 172. The only exception being that a few extremely nationalistic songs were banned from Japanese school textbooks during the American occupation. Examples of these textbooks (including the censored contents) are permanently displayed in the Kyoto Municipal Museum of School History. 173. See Cresswell and Hoskin (1999). Also see Taylor (2007) for a more recent discussion of these issues. According to Ewbank and Papageorgiou (1997), ‘‘the media imperialism approach tends to obscure the complex relationships and dynamics that exist among the external and internal factors and forces that shape the cultural production of peripheral countries’’ (p. 6). 174. From Imada (2001), p. 72. 175. Poststructuralism is one approach proposed by Imada (1997); Postcolonial theory is also suggested (Imada, 2000); Semiotics is also proposed (Imada, 2000/2001); and Deconstructionism is also suggested (Imada, 2001). 176. From Imada (2003), p. 73. 177. See Nettl (2000) and Davies (2001), p. 37. 178. From Bowman (2000), p. 55. 179. From Imada (2000), p. 15.

70 180. 181. 182. 183. 184. 185. 186. 187. 188. 189. 190. 191.

192. 193. 194. 195.

196. 197. 198. 199. 200.

201. 202.

203. 204.

2 Where are These Bands From? – An Historical Overview From Imada (2000), p. 18. Notable examples include Chomsky (2003) and Chua (2002). Described in Takeshi (1996). From Imada (2000), p. 20. From Howe (1997), p. 71. See Eppstein (1985), p. 11. See Miyoshi (1992), p. 304. Examples include Roesgaard (1998) and Sugimoto (1997, p. 120). From Miyoshi (1992, p. 304). Discussed by various scholars (Southcott & Lee, 2003; Hebert, 2000). Discussed by various scholars (Ogawa, 1994; Groemer, 2004). Takizawa (1992) was among the first Japanese music educationists to take a strong position on this subject, advocated through an active research agenda. Manes (2006) analyzed the content of recent Japanese school music textbooks, which at the early primary level continue to emphasize European music along with some Japanese songs, while including very little music from the rest of the world. As discussed elsewhere (e.g. Heimonen & Hebert, 2010; Isoda, 2010), this phenomenon is globally widespread, and may also have implications for ethnic minorities in Japan. See Chua (2002) and Stiglitz (2010), for example. From Takeshi (2001). From Kitayama (1990), p. 36. There are numerous examples that directly contradict Imada’s unusual position. See, for example, Eppstein (1985), p. 36; Kitayama (1990), p. 36; Ogawa (1994), p. 31; Takeshi (2001), p. 52. See Suppan and Baethge (1996). Conversely, Obata (1974) described Fenton’s version of Kimigayo, but made no mention of Eckert’s contributions. See Jansen (2006), p. 44. See Gottschewski (2003). Manabe (2009). This perspective is reasonable, and not unlike the views expressed in some earlier publications by Japanese scholars (c.f. Yamada, 1956). See Suppan and Baethge (1996). This perspective resulted in Berlin being singled out as a ‘‘centre for the training of military bandmasters’’ from Japan in the 1880s within the leading music reference work Grove Music Online (Polk et al., n.d.). Galliano noted the ‘‘importance accorded French military music when Japan started to import Western music’’ (Galliano, 2002, p. 56), and indeed, although Germany would eventually become the European nation most influential in Japan’s musical life, the influence of the Netherlands, France, and England were arguably as significant until around 1890. Some of the leading Japanese band conductors were sent to the Paris Conservatory (rather than Berlin) for their studies, and the majority simply studied in Japan from the bands already there, representing an array of European nations. See Manabe (2009), p. 92. See Manabe (2009), p. 93. One can only hope that more data becomes available, for it is very difficult to attain definitive conclusions at present. In Japan, it has not been uncommon for important documents to be discarded rather than placed in archives. Moreover, much of interest was obliterated during wartime by the most extreme bombing of civilian targets in history. Additionally, as historian Andrew Gordon (2003) observed, ‘‘archives in Japan are in relatively poor repair, and access to them is difficult’’ (p. 262). Miller (2004), p. 62. Yasuda (1993). Arguably, a more important point here, besides knowledge or ability in western music, is what Miller (2004) has documented, that neither Mason nor Isawa knew much about Japanese traditional music at the time they first began producing shoka (p. 118).

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205. It is only in this sense that Yasuda and Imada may be somewhat correct in their interpretations, for ‘‘music education’’ and ‘‘moral education’’ in late nineteenth century American schools were largely intertwined with Christian traditions. Still, although many of the songs used in American schools at the time had overtly Christian connotations, little evidence thus far appears to have been produced that would justify labeling either Isawa or Mason a ‘‘Christian missionary’’ relative to their sociohistorical context. It is conceivable that the emergence of new data may someday offer convincing justification for alternative interpretations, but this remains to be seen. 206. Komiya (1956), p. 456. 207. Komiya (1956), p. 504. Interestingly, this view appears to be contradicted by Galliano (2002), whose interpretation of this period was that ‘‘the most significant musical developments took place in the new Tokyo School of Music in Ueno’’ (p. 40). 208. Shiotsu (1998), pp. 43–44. 209. See Nakamura (1993). Hosokawa has indicated this position in both personal discussions and his ongoing writings, and I find it to be an important concern and entirely convincing. 210. See Nakamura (2002), p. 728. Further discussion of the Salvation Army Band in Japan is available in Nakayama (1995) and Suzuki (1995). 211. See Hosokawa (2001), p. 75. According to the introductory map pamphlet provided by Hibiya park administrators to this author in 2010, ‘‘it served as a military parade ground during the Meiji Era. It was the first Western style park in Japan designed and constructed as an urban park, which contains an outdoor music hall and a public hall for a variety of uses.’’ The park was officially opened on June 1st, 1903, and covers 161,636.66 m2. 212. See Tsukahara (2001), p. 115. 213. See Obata (1974), pp. 61–62. 214. From Nakamura (2002), p. 728. Normally one would not expect historians to so overtly indicate causality without fully documented argumentation to undergird the claim. However, as I seek to demonstrate in this section, causality may be effectively illustrated with the use of ‘‘dynamic explanations’’ that draw upon the notion of ‘‘replaceability,’’ or the extent to which trajectories would likely have been significantly altered if agency had been more substantially impeded by different social power structures (Hammer, 2008). These diverse explanations regarding the popularization of wind bands in Japan are interesting to consider in light of Kaye’s (2010) vision of ‘‘counterfactualism.’’ Kaye identified three major assumptions of history, for which counterfactualist thought experiments may provide an effective antidote: (1) indispensability, (2) causality, (3) inevitability (pp. 40–41). According to Kaye, indispensability implies that a single factor may be the exclusive cause of an event, while causality in general attributes a chain of factors to the development of a particular event. The notion of inevitability, on the other hand, implies determinism and actually indicates a lack of acknowledgement that very unlikely and improbable things happen frequently which cannot be causally explained. Kaye correctly acknowledges that the causes to all major events cannot necessarily be explained, and explanations often over-simplify. Nevertheless, explanation is an essential objective of rigorous scholarship, and some historical explanations are more appropriately nuanced and convincingly argued than others. Careful consideration of alternative explanations may correctly be regarded as an essential component of robust historiography. 215. See Itasaka (2006), pp. 115–121. 216. As summarized elsewhere, ‘‘The kind of music transculturation and hybridity that ensued arguably entailed an atypically egalitarian view of western music ensembles, in which wind band music was provided the opportunity to prosper as in no other nation before. Professional wind ensembles arose and flourished in this unique environment, supported by the patronage of amateur wind band musicians, who within a system of

72

217.

218.

219.

220.

221.

222.

2 Where are These Bands From? – An Historical Overview intense national competition also rose to unprecedented levels of musical achievement and enthusiastic consumption’’ (Hebert, 2008b, p. 242). Kenji Tanaka credits the diligence, dexterous techniques and efficiency of Japanese workmanship for the remarkable growth seen in the nation’s musical instrument industry across the past century (Tanaka, 1998, pp. 30–31). Also, see Hiyama (1977) for discussion of this industry. Although my role in this incident was very minor, the retired band director at first seemed quite appreciative. I recall that soon after this announcement, he wrote to me ‘‘Thank you for your great help,’’ and when Zealear first conveyed the new findings to him, she also wrote ‘‘I finally reached Dr Hebert who has been so kind in helping me,’’ but this sentence was removed from Zealear’s communication within the band director’s published account of how she provided the new data to him. This turns out to not be a large omission, because it was already clear from previous publications that Fenton was no longer musically active by the time he reached the final years of his life. Furthermore, as demonstrated, there may currently be an overemphasis on the role of Fenton as ‘‘Japan’s father of Western music’’ in the minds of many Japanese band directors, since there is such strong evidence of European-derived music traditions in Japan that predate Fenton, including not only hymn music and military band training, but also performances on European wind instruments (Saeki, 2003). Furthermore, in terms of Fenton receiving credit for the national anthem Kimigayo, it is clear that German bandmaster Franz Eckert’s role was as significant as Fenton’s in the development of the anthem melody that is used to this day (Suppan & Baethge, 1996). This ‘‘canonization’’ of Fenton might even arguably be interpreted in the anthropological sense as a kind of ‘‘invented tradition’’ within the wind music subculture of contemporary Japan, to which considerable financial resources, from both Japanese band director organizations and government sources (including national military and Yokohama region funding), have been allocated (Yomiuri Shinbun, 2008, 2009). This is by no means an isolated incident, with highly influential band directors being referred to in recent years as ‘‘the father of bands,’’ in various circles, which is then amplified via research publications (Hebert, 2001a; Kelly, 1996). Calhoun (1998) writes of the need in social science historiography for the development of ‘‘both theory that is about the shape of history, its disjunctures as well as its continuities, and theory that is self-conscious about its own historical specificity and that of the phenomena it studies’’ (p. 868). The concluding section of this chapter has proceeded with these theoretical objectives as implicit aims. Curiously, despite the important role wind band music plays in contemporary Japanese musical life – as an idiom strongly supported by notable composers, universities, companies, religious organizations, and the music industry, as well as the most popular extracurricular school music activity among Japanese girls – and despite the international significance of Japanese bands – with arguably the highest overall level of wind band performances and organized within the largest music contest of any kind – this topic is essentially ignored in all major music reference works, including leading international music dictionaries, music encyclopedias, and authoritative guides to music in Japan. This appears to be largely due to problems that wind bands face worldwide as a topic of scholarly inquiry, located somewhere between art music and popular music, and therefore viewed by both ethnomusicologists and historical musicologists as part of ‘‘the other’’ field, and usually represented by the kind of non-rigorous scholarship too often produced by band director enthusiasts who lack professional training in research methods. Trevor Herbert (2003) deserves substantial credit for demonstrating how studies of music industry, innovations in instrumentation, and musical practices among amateurs offer important and fertile new domains for musicological research. The role of Japan’s music industry is discussed in detail in Chapters 12 and 13 of this volume.

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Part II

An Ethnography of Wind Bands in Japanese Schools

Chapter 3

An Invitation to the Tokyo Middle School

人は見かけによらぬもの Hitowa mikakeni yoranumono ‘‘One cannot trust mere appearances’’

Among the most insightful perspectives one may consider in examining a musical or educational tradition is that from beneath. By ‘‘beneath’’, I mean the views of its newest and youngest initiates, those who are still learning the rules of a tradition and adapting to the roles that it offers them. This chapter introduces a middle school band that serves as a focal subject for this ethnography of wind band music in Japan. At first impression, the notion of researching musical practices within a school band, even if in Japan, might seem either irrelevant or mundane to some readers. For good reason, many Western musicians, music teachers and musicologists recognize a high value in studies of renowned composers and performers, detailed depictions of utterly unfamiliar (even, exotic) foreign music traditions, or practical research that directly addresses specific challenges faced in the school music programs of their immediate surroundings. Research studies that examine international practices are relatively unusual within the field of music education. Still, studies in the fields of internationalcomparative education and comparative music education are now increasingly recognized for making important contributions to educational practice in the USA and abroad.1 Lawrence Lepherd observed that ‘‘One of the advantages of international study is that music educators are able to gain a broader perspective within which they can assess and attempt to resolve their own problems’’2 From the perspective of ethnomusicology, a school band qualifies as an atypical subject of study. As Bresler and Stake have observed, ‘‘few ethnomusicological studies examine familiar music in familiar settings.’’3 Most anthropological subfields also tend to produce relatively few studies of children’s lives and educational settings, but some scholars have suggested that important insights are missed through placing inordinate emphasis on the world of adults.4 Still, a study of Japanese wind bands fits well with some important new trends in ethnomusicology, including research on music teaching and D.G. Hebert, Wind Bands and Cultural Identity in Japanese Schools, Landscapes: the Arts, Aesthetics, and Education 9, DOI 10.1007/978-94-007-2178-4_3, Ó Springer ScienceþBusiness Media B.V. 2012

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learning,5 educational institutions,6 urban settings,7 music globalization and national identity,8 and Western music transculturation in East Asia.9 In order to proceed with description of a specific Japanese school band, it is useful to first introduce the geographic and institutional settings within which the ensemble is situated.

3.1 A Place for Learning 3.1.1 The Urban Setting Tokyo is a unique city that defies description. A sprawling megalopolis, it serves as the center of contemporary Japan’s government, industry, and popular culture. Urban planning is a very recent notion in this city that has ballooned into a maze of such diversity that locals struggle to define the ever-changing character of its neighborhoods. Regarding the Tokyo urban landscape, Kendall wrote, ‘‘Even in the centre, where new buildings soar all around, it is not unusual to find tiny shops where people make a living from selling nothing but rice crackers next door to a bank or tower block 100 times its size. It can be confusing, difficult to make sense of. So don’t try.’’10 Although Tokyo’s sensibility eludes many foreigners, ask any Tokyo resident to locate the centers of urban activity, and one is certain to hear repeatedly the names of train stations that signify some of the most densely populated areas in the world: Shinjuku, Shibuya, and Ikebukuro. Many of the observations presented in this book are based on fieldwork research on the wind band at a public middle school situated in the greater Ikebukuro region, within Tokyo’s Itabashi ward. Ikebukuro, the center of Northwest Tokyo, is rivaled only by Shinjuku and Shibuya in terms of population density. Though widely recognized by locals as an important urban center, Ikebukuro’s image is less glamorous than other areas, and receives little discussion in most Tokyo tourist guidebooks. One guidebook that mentions Ikebukuro, notes that because of the area’s ‘‘less trendy reputation,’’ one finds ‘‘prices are often lower.’’11 Ikebukuro is considered a good place for bargain shopping especially because it boasts a wide selection of foreign goods at unusually reasonable prices. This is largely due to the fact that Itabashi, the ward surrounding Ikebukuro, is known as one of the most ethnically diverse areas of Tokyo, and the minorities represented tend to be those commonly associated with entry-level labor and nightlife occupations in Japan: Chinese, Koreans, Filipinos, Iranians, and Indians. It is certainly not an upper class area. One must travel far across town to the more ‘‘high end’’ parts of Tokyo, such as Roppongi and Omotesando, in order to find businesses that cater to Westerners associated with white-collar professions and embassies.

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3.1.2 The Trek to School The majority of Tokyo’s 8,348,000 residents travel everywhere within the city by train.12 Tokyo’s system of urban trains and subway lines is the most complex in the world and the structure of this system seems to mirror the organizational style of many other aspects of Japanese life, perhaps even offering insights into the logic of contemporary Tokyo. The trains are directed by uniformed men, who wear official suits complete with white gloves and a small hat. Rather than limiting the number of occupants, part of the responsibility of these officers is to aid latecomers in their efforts to board train cars that are often already completely filled with passengers. Consequently, the interior of the train cars commonly becomes a solid mass of bodies. Nevertheless, each train typically departs and arrives exactly on time, down to the precise minute posted. Even for lifelong residents, it is often challenging to determine the fastest route by train between two points in Tokyo, for the transfer options can seem endless among lines run by competing companies: sometimes simultaneously overhead, at street level, just beneath the street, and still even further underground. Once a route is decided upon, men still need to keep an eye out for the women-only signs posted in some train cars. In response to a social problem called chikan,13 some Tokyo train companies have forbidden all men from riding certain train cars on certain routes. Even semi-literate foreign men can quickly learn to recognize which cars are off-limits, as the ‘‘women-only’’ signs posted on such trains are framed by an ultra-feminine, pink flowery border. From a Western perspective, such features of the Tokyo train system may already suggest profound cultural difference: (1) a remarkable precision, size and scope of bureaucratic organizations; (2) clearly delineated social roles, and (3) non-Western approaches to both the assigning of responsibility and solving of problems, for example. Such cultural differences prove to be quite significant within the realm of school bands, yet even the community surrounding the school may reveal features that convey ‘‘difference’’ when viewed from abroad.

3.1.3 The School Neighborhood The school that served as the site of this study is located about 15 min by train from Ikebukuro station. Upon exiting the local station, it becomes clear from the limited height of the buildings (e.g. only four, rather than twenty stories) and the kinds of establishments surrounding the station, that the location is densely populated yet nearly suburban in character. Surrounding the station are a number of convenience stores and restaurants, including some that originated in the United States: KFC and Mister Donut, for example. From the station, the school is only about a 5-min walk down a single narrow street. Many students take this walk every day. Along the way are several cafe´s, small fruit

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stands, butcher shops, a department store, an ice cream parlor, and even a Japanese-style hamburger diner. In many ways, the images from this daily walk are similar to what might be seen in lower-middle class, semi-urban areas of other nations, however some details would likely strike an American teacher as unusual features for the neighborhood of a middle school. For example, along the narrow street one also finds several vending machines that sell beer and tobacco, and an outdoor booth that serves fried octopus. But perhaps most surprisingly, the two businesses located nearest to the school are a tobacco shop and an adults-only establishment called Wakuwaku Room. Beyond these businesses, the neighborhood is entirely residential, densely packed with inexpensive housing complexes, and the edge of a community park is seen at the next intersection. The school is reached by taking a short diagonal path across this tiny park. The city park appears to be the main feature that might make this location an attractive place for a school. While rather small, the park features some pleasant trees and bushes, a building that houses an indoor swimming pool, and some community greenhouse space. Walking through this park, one often sees women with babies in strollers, elderly men sitting together and chatting on the park benches, people of various ages walking small dogs, and young children playing various games with balls and jump ropes. In terms of population density, this area is still urban, yet does not seem to have an inner-city feel. Despite its location, the park feels calm, peaceful, and relatively quiet compared with the bustling commercial district nearby.

3.1.4 At the Campus The school building looks rather typical for a Japanese public school. It is a rather old looking, off-white concrete structure with two stories. The building is quite worn, with cracks in the paint, yet it is kept remarkably clean. The main structure of the building is in the shape of a large capital U (viewed from the sky), and has a central courtyard with a clay surface that is used for various sports (Fig. 3.1).

C

C G

G

Fig. 3.1 Ishikawa middle school building (floor 2)

Key: C = Classrooms G = Gymnasium P = Park

B

L

F

O

B = Band Room L = Library O = Office F = Field

P

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Windows allow one to view the inner courtyard from most locations on the inside of the U-shape. A multi-purpose sports field lies beyond one side of the U, a corner of which must be crossed in order to reach the main entrance of the building. A large, square gymnasium is attached to the other side of the U. In terms of architectural style, this building, like most other schools in Japan, appears to offer no unnecessary ornamentation.14 Like other Japanese public schools, every aspect of the construction of this building is purely functional, designed for maximum efficiency, with little aesthetic appeal. The building almost seems to resemble a factory for the manufacture of a highly valued commodity: learned students. However, the irony of this image is that the school seems to be generally quite a cheerful place during breaks from the intense focus of academic work. As classes come to an end at 3:30 P.M., dozens of students, aged 12 to 15, playfully rush out of their classrooms and dart here and there, calling out each other’s names, giggling, and beaming with energy. And after a short break, the vast majority rush off to participate in the school club activities that take up most of their extra time (often 20–25 h/week), including sports and band. These school club activities are considered to fulfill an increasingly important role in contemporary Japanese life, providing opportunities for safe recreation and student leadership. As Carol Kinney observed, In Japan’s urban areas . . . more families may be living as nuclear families with two working parents, which may lead to less supervision of youth. Especially because of this trend, the lengthy hours that many students spend on school grounds after school hours are important. Although this time is often largely unsupervised, adults are readily available, and the dangers on school grounds are probably less than in other establishments in the city.15

Merry White concluded that ‘‘Teachers may be present as coaches and assistants, but the clubs are really run by the middle schoolers,’’16 and according to Peter Cave, in Japan ‘‘Teachers and students alike see club activities as one of the most important parts of school life.’’17 Rebecca Fukuzawa noted that ‘‘Bukatsu [extracurricular activities] are not part of the official curriculum yet they are more powerful sources for incorporating students in school life than any other activity.’’18 Recognition of this context is essential in order to understand the implications of relationships and behaviors observed within a Japanese school band. Certainly, the educational objectives of a student-run extracurricular activity may be expected to differ significantly from that of formally taught academic courses.

3.1.5 The Main Office On the second floor of the main school building, at the right corner of the bottom of its U shape is the location of the main office, where the principal and various secretaries work (Fig. 4.2). As is common among Japanese offices, no privacy is offered except at the very top level of bureaucracy. Ten to twelve

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desks are squeezed into one brightly-lit room, where several middle-aged women are typically typing on computers, talking on telephones, making photocopies, stuffing envelopes, filling out forms, and stamping paper documents with various official seals. Behind this large room is the door to the principal’s office, by far the most comfortable room in the school. The principal has a large, attractive desk, a meeting table and chairs, and a small lounge area with a coffee table and sofa chairs. Women from the main office guide the principal’s visitors beyond the workers and into this office where they serve green tea, coffee, and snacks, accompanied with gracious smiles and obsequious bows. The band rehearsal room is located just down the hall from the main office, at the exact center of the U.

3.1.6 The Band Room It is easy to locate the band room. A colorful student-made sign is posted on the door that says, ‘‘buraban’’ (an abbreviation for band, historically derived from contraction of the phonetic representations of the English words ‘‘brass’’ and ‘‘band’’), and another that says ‘‘buraban no heya’’ (band room) along with a small cartoon-like puppy dog drawing. The band room is entered through double doors, which help to contain the massive sound produced by the enormous ensemble. The room is larger than most academic classrooms, yet rather small when compared with music facilities in many Western nations (about 20 by 12 m). The band room has wooden floors, and is surrounded by white walls of pasty soundproofing material with a constant pattern of pencil-punch sized holes. Upward is a low, uneven ceiling (only about three meters high), that juts out in various angles apparently designed to deflect sound, and long white fluorescent light tubes. Viewed from the entrance, a row of several windows is seen on the opposite side of the band room. Thick curtains are usually pulled shut across the windows, but when opened one may look out across the greenhouse area of the aforementioned neighborhood park. Viewed from the entrance, on the far right wall of the band room are two professional posters that read, ‘‘Welcome, suisougakubuni’’ (welcome to the wind ensemble club). ‘‘Welcome’’ is written in English, but the rest is in Japanese language. The image of one poster includes three little eighth notes juxtaposed against photographs of a boy and girl dressed in school uniforms and holding their instruments. The boy, holding a French horn, stands on the left, while the girl with an alto saxophone is on the right. To the left of that poster is a similar one, perhaps part of a series (with the same message and eighth notes). Instead of two school band players, this poster features an image of Mr. Sugamo, the famous alto saxophone player who serves as Concertmaster of the professional band Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra. He conveys a dignified manner, dressed in a suit, holding his horn and smiling proudly. Both posters say ‘‘welcome’’ in English, with big white capital letters across the generally darker images, for great contrast.

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Also on the walls are several student-made posters that feature each instrumental section, introducing the names of its players, with indications of rank (year in school, and section leader status). Another poster separately lists the names of each of the instrument section leaders in the band. Also on the wall are awards received from competitions and several small drawings (colorful, fantastic themes unrelated to music: unicorns, rainbows, etc.). Viewed from the entrance, the entire section of floor on the far right of the room is raised by about six inches: a fairly large piece (approximately 10 by 5 m) on which all the percussion instruments are placed. About eight young students can comfortably stand in this area among the timpani, snares, cymbals, bass drum, two marimbas, two xylophones, a bell tree, and numerous music stands. Cubes of soundproofing material are pasted in the shape of a smiley-face on the surface of the bass drum. To the far right, opening from the same direction as the main entrance, is a door that leads to a small equipment room where many students with large instruments store their cases. An old stereo speaker system and an electric organ, both collecting dust and apparently never used, are stacked in the corner near the equipment room. There are dozens of chairs and music stands in rows across the room, a chalkboard with music staff notation across part of it, two heating units (that never seem to be used), and two microphones for stereo recording on a stand always placed near the windows (which also never seemed to be used). In the center of the room, in front of the windows is a podium for the conductor, a high chair, and an electronic keyboard on an elevated stand, located conveniently to the immediate right of the conductor. To the left of the conducting podium is a Yamaha grand piano, and against the wall are a stack of three old used ‘‘electones’’ (Japanese electronic keyboards), several enormous tuba cases, and a white board that often has a bit of music notation written on it. To anyone visiting this room, its purpose is surely self-evident: a space dedicated to facilitating active music-making. Most everything found in the room seems to serve that function, including even the notation and theoretical analysis typically scrawled on the whiteboard. However, several features of the room also evoke a playful atmosphere, including colorful student artwork on the walls and smiley-face designs on the drums. The room is consistently kept clean and organized, with no unnecessary clutter.

3.1.7 Academic Music Classes The music room is actually used for two distinct purposes: (1) the brief periods of required academic music courses offered during the school day, and (2) the long periods of wind band rehearsals offered as a bukatsudo, or after-school extracurricular club activity. Throughout Japan, the required academic music courses in public schools emphasize music theory and appreciation, including voice and keyboard skills, usually without any use of orchestral instruments. These courses are offered to all students, and are organized around delivery of a

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set curriculum that is nationally mandated by the Ministry of Education. As a result, most Japanese middle school students attain some familiarity with Western music notation, the major historical periods of European art music, and popular music styles, and also become relatively competent in basic singing techniques. While this system appears to have various strengths, it has increasingly been criticized by Japanese scholars for its unclear educational objectives, emphasis on European classical music,19 and stifling of academic freedom. In terms of educational objectives, since World War II music education has officially existed for the purpose of joso kyoiku (education of ‘‘sentiment’’). While this terminology is consistently used throughout Japan Ministry of Education documents, it has remained undefined, and scholars such as Masafumi Ogawa and Michiro Kawaguchi have identified it to be an imprecise goal that is actually a euphemism for ‘‘moral education’’.20 Shinobu Oku has described Japan’s curricular emphasis on European music as the result of ‘‘a long and wrong school music education policy,’’21 but since the time of her comments, changes in legislation (from 2001) have rather suddenly required all music teachers to teach some Japanese traditional instruments. This development has caused a recent crisis in music education because for more than a century Japanese music teachers had been educated almost exclusively in European music. Masafumi Ogawa likens the new situation to being as ‘‘if all American music educators were to have to teach American Indian music to all American students.’’22 Ogawa’s point is not so much to suggest that this would be an absurd proposition, but rather a very impractical one. In terms of the stifling of academic freedom, Ogawa laments that Japanese music teachers are not free to design their own music lessons, and Yasuharu Takahagi observes that Japanese music teachers ‘‘tend to teach the textbook without questioning or developing their own personal philosophy of music education.’’23 While these required academic courses undeniably play a significant role in the music education of all Japanese students, the extracurricular ensembles such as band arguably tend to be the domain in which Japanese children have more meaningful musical opportunities in the school context. In recent generations, wind bands have tended to be by far the most popular large instrumental ensemble affiliated with Japanese schools and community centers.24 This chapter has demonstrated the physical context and educational milieu in which Japanese school bands are situated. The next chapter will examine how wind band rehearsals are structured in a Japanese school.

Notes 1. The importance of international studies in education generally, and music education specifically, has been discussed in several publications, including Board on International Comparative Studies in Education (1993); Campbell (2002, 1991), and Hargreaves and North (2001). As Marie McCarthy indicated, ‘‘No general history of the impact of music education on cultural life can be written until we have more studies of music education in

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particular countries’’ (McCarthy, 1999, p. 9). Following Patricia Shehan Campbell (1991), McCarthy (1999) referred to her own comprehensive study of music transmission in Ireland as a ‘‘lesson to the world’’ (p. 9). This theme is also echoed in approaches used by other authors (Bakan, 1993/1994; Hebert, 2003). The present study seeks in a similar vein to represent the unique case of music transmission among Japanese wind bands. 2. See Lepherd (1995), p. 3. 3. See discussion in Bresler and Stake (2006). 4. This concern has been identified in the fields of cultural anthropology and ethnomusicology. For examples from cultural anthropology, see Gonzalez (2004), Levinson (1999), and Ortner (2000). Examples from ethnomusicology include papers presented at annual meetings of the Society for Ethnomusicology (Hebert, 2000, 2004). Also see Szego (2002) and Campbell (2003, 2006). 5. Rice (2003) has produced an especially insightful overview of studies from the field of ethnomusicology that examine the theme of music teaching and learning. 6. Kingsbury (1988) provides an ethnomusicological perspective on music education in an American conservatory, while Nettl (1995) analyses a school of music at a Midwestern American university from an ethnomusicological perspective. Both studies provide important insights into the notion of talent and role of ideology in educational institutions. 7. Nettl (1992) identifies urban studies as an important area of new development in the field of ethnomusicology. 8. Stokes (2004) offers a thorough and insightful review of the literature in this area. Taylor (1997) has produced one of the most comprehensive treatments of music globalization to date, while Turino (2000) provides an especially penetrating account of the role of music in national, local, and global identity. Nettl (2005) also identifies music ‘‘scholarship in non-European nations’’ and ‘‘nationalism’’ as important ‘‘issues of current interest’’ in the field of ethnomusicology (p. xii). 9. Western music art music in East Asia is the topic of one recent multi-author book (Everett & Lau, 2004), while the history of jazz in Japan is thoroughly explored in another (Atkins, 2001). 10. See Kendall (1999), p. 1. 11. See Kendall (1999), p. 32. 12. This is according to recent Japanese government statistics. See Nihon Tokei Geppo (2004, January). 13. For a detailed description of ‘‘chikan’’ see McLelland (2006, January). 14. The utilitarian aesthetic of Japanese school architecture is documented in previous ethnographies of Japanese schools (Fukuzawa, 1990, p. 111; Rohlen, 1983, p. 46). 15. See Kinney (1994), p. 266. 16. See White (1993), p. 80. 17. See Cave (2004), p. 385. Cave also reported that when he revisited four high schools in 1998–99, he was told that ‘‘participation in clubs had decreased considerably compared to a decade earlier,’’ yet it was ‘‘impossible to get precise figures’’ (Cave, 2004, p. 412). Indeed, such figures are typically rather difficult to obtain from Japanese schools. Nevertheless, some relevant statistics are available from the Ministry of Education and such research institutes as the Benesse Corporation. A recent Benesse survey, with 15,450 participants (515 each of boys and girls across 15 grades, including preschool), determined that nearly 30% of girls participate in some form of extracurricular music activity, which makes music by far the most popular cultural activity among girls, compared to, for example, the 4.6% who take ballet or the 1.6% who learn traditional Japanese tea ceremony (Benesse Corporation, 2009). 18. See Fukuzawa (1990), p. 204. Fukuzawa (1990) also concluded that the club activities may serve an essential social function in schools, enabling a balance to be maintained

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19.

against a severe classroom ethos that combines teacher-centered instruction with minimal levels of student autonomy (p. 412). Among the schools Fukuzawa studied, 80% of students belonged to such clubs (Fukuzawa, 1990, p. 363). She noted that some parents assume participation in clubs may hinder academic achievement (Fukuzawa, 1990, p. 390), yet the most academically successful students in her study were highly active in such clubs. In most Japanese public middle schools, attendance in extracurricular clubs (such as school band) was mandatory, and data indicated ‘‘teachers strongly believe that the club experience is a significant part of a student’s education’’ (LeTendre, 2000, p. 47). Throughout Japan, school band tends to be among the most popular club activities offered at the middle school level, particularly among girls (Sato, 1997). Gender issues are discussed in detail in Chapter 15. Pecore (2000) examined innovative programs in which Japanese traditional music was taught by pioneering educators in the 1990s. However, in the vast majority of Japanese schools Western music has been taught all but exclusively, and the development of the present situation is well documented by both Japanese and Western scholars (Ogawa, 1994; Eppstein, 1985). See Ogawa (2004) for further discussion. See Oku (1992), p. 99. Tokumaru (2001) appears to have been the first notable English language publication to announce the new curricular changes. See Ogawa (2004), p. 147. See Takahagi (1994), p. 209. This is documented by a recent survey (Mitsumori, 2003). Also see Sheldon (1998) for discussion of Japanese community bands.

20. 21. 22. 23. 24.

References Atkins, E. T. (2001). Blue nippon: Authenticating jazz in Japan. Durham, NC: Duke University Press. Bakan, M. B. (1993/1994). Lessons from a world: Balinese applied music instruction and the teaching of Western ‘‘art’’ music. College Music Symposium, 33/34, 1–22. Benesse Corporation. (2009). Gakko gaikyoiku katsudoni kansuru jittai [On the actual state of extracurricular activities]. Tokyo: Bennesse Kyoiku Kenkyu Kaihatsu Center. Retrieved September 11, 2011, from http://www.benesse.jp/berd/center/open/report/kyoikuhi/data book/databook_01.html Board on International Comparative Studies in Education. (1993). A collaborative agenda for improving international comparative studies in education. Washington, DC: National Academy Press. Bresler, L., & Stake, R. E. (2006). Qualitative research methodology in music education. In R. Colwell (Ed.), MENC handbook of research methodologies (pp. 270–311). New York: Oxford University Press. Campbell, P. S. (1991). Lessons from the world: A cross-cultural guide to music teaching and learning. New York: Schirmer Books. Campbell, P. S. (2002). A matter of perspective: Thoughts on the multiple realities of research. Journal of Research in Music Education, 50(3), 191–201. Campbell, P. S. (2003). Ethnomusicology and music education: Crossroads for knowing music, education, and culture. Research Studies in Music Education, 21(1), 16–30. Campbell, P. S. (2006). Global practices. In G. McPherson (Ed.), The child as musician: A handbook of musical development (pp. 415–437). Oxford: Oxford University Press. Cave, P. (2004). Bukatsudo: The educational role of Japanese school clubs. Journal of Japanese Studies, 30(2), 383–415.

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Eppstein, U. (1985). Musical instruction in Meiji education: A study of adaptation and assimilation. Monumenta Nipponica, 40(1), 1–37. Everett, Y. U., & Lau, F. (Eds.). (2004). Locating East Asia in Western art music. Middletown, CT: Wesleyan University Press. Fukuzawa, R. E. (1990). Stratification, social control, and student culture: An ethnography of three Japanese junior high schools. Doctoral dissertation, Northwestern University. Gonzalez, N. (2004). Disciplining the discipline: Anthropology and the pursuit of quality education. Educational Researcher, 33(5), 17–25. Hargreaves, D. J., & North, A. C. (2001). Conclusions: The international perspective. In D. J. Hargreaves & A. C. North (Eds.), Musical development and learning: The international perspective (pp. 220–234). London: Continuum. Hebert, D. G. (2000). Music, transmission, and education: Contemporary theoretical and methodological issues in comparative music education research. Paper presented at the Society for Ethnomusicology annual conference (45th, Toronto, Canada, November, 2000). Hebert, D. G. (2003). Lessons from India: Globalization’s implications for music education. Journal of the Indian Musicological Society, 34, 38–46. Hebert, D. G. (2004). Do ethnomusicologists need learning theory? Paper presented at the Society for Ethnomusicology annual conference (49th, Tuscon, AZ, November, 2004). Kendall, N. (1999). Time out Tokyo. London: Penguin Books. Kingsbury, H. A. (1988). Music, talent, and performance: A conservatory cultural system. Philadelphia: Temple University Press. Kinney, C. J. (1994). From a lower track school to a low status job? An ethnographic study of two Japanese high schools. Doctoral dissertation, University of Michigan. Lepherd, L. (Ed.). (1995). Music education in international perspective: National systems. Toowoomba: University of Southern Queensland Press. LeTendre, G. K. (2000). Learning to be adolescent: Growing up in U.S. and Japanese middle schools. New Haven: Yale University Press. Levinson, B. (1999). Resituating the place of educational discourse in anthropology. American Anthropologist, 101, 594–604. McCarthy, M. (1999). Passing it on: The transmission of music in Irish culture. Cork: Cork University Press. McLelland, M. (2006, January). A short history of ‘‘hentai’’. Intersections: Gender, history and culture in the Asian context, 12. Retrieved January 1, 2008, from http://wwwsshe.murdoch. edu.au/intersections/issue12/mclelland.html Mitsumori, H. (Ed.). (2003). 21Sekino shinminongakudantaino kasseikawo mezashite [Aiming for civic hall music ensemble activity in the twenty-first century]. Tokyo: Ongaku Bunka Souzou. Nettl, B. (1992). Recent directions in ethnomusicology. In H. Myers (Ed.), Ethnomusicology: An introduction (pp. 375–399). New York: Macmillan. Nettl, B. (1995). Heartland excursions: Ethnomusicological reflections on schools of music. Urbana: University of Illinois Press. Nettl, B. (2005). The study of ethnomusicology: Thirty-one issues and concepts. Urbana, IL: University of Illinois Press. Nihon Tokei Geppo. (2004, January). Monthly statistics of Japan, 16(1). Tokyo: Statistics Bureau, Ministry of Public Management, Home Affairs, Posts and Telecommunications. Ogawa, M. (1994). Japanese traditional music and school music education. Philosophy of Music Education Review, 2(1), 25–36. Ogawa, M. (2004). Music teacher education in Japan: Structure, problems, and perspectives. Philosophy of Music Education Review, 12(2), 139–153. Oku, S. (1992). Japanese traditional music in departments of teacher training universities. In T. Takizawa (Ed.), Perspectives of music education in Japan and ASEAN countries: Towards a new scope of music education as cultural education (pp. 81–103). Tokyo: Academia Music Ltd.

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Ortner, S. (2000). Some futures of anthropology. American Ethnologist, 26(4), 984–991. Pecore, J. T. (2000). Bridging contexts, transforming music: The case of elementary school teacher Chihara Toshio. Ethnomusicology, 44(1), 121–136. Rice, T. (2003). The ethnomusicology of music learning and teaching. College Music Symposium, 43, 65–85. Rohlen, T. P. (1983). Japan’s high schools. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press. Sato, H. (1997). Bukatsudono jittai [Reality of school clubs]. Gakko Keiei, 42(6), 30–39. Sheldon, D. (1998). Participation in community and company bands in Japan. Update: Applications of Research in Music Education, 17(1), 21–24. Stokes, M. (2004). Music and the global order. Annual Review of Anthropology, 33, 47–72. Szego, C. K. (2002). Music transmission and learning. In R. Colwell & C. Richardson (Eds.), New handbook of research on music teaching and learning (pp. 707–729). New York: Oxford University Press. Takahagi, Y. (1994). A Japanese perspective. In M. Comte (Ed.), Music education: International viewpoints. Nedlands: University of Western Australia. Taylor, T. D. (1997). Global pop: World music, world markets. New York: Routledge. Tokumaru, Y. (2001). Heritage: An Asian perspective. International Journal of Music Education, 37, 72–74. Turino, T. (2000). Nationalists, cosmopolitans, and popular music in Zimbabwe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. White, M. (1993). The material child: Coming of age in Japan and America. Berkeley: University of California Press.

Chapter 4

The Band Rehearsal Ritual and Its Participants

始めよければ終わりよし Hajime yokereba owari yoshi ‘‘Well begun is half done’’

4.1 The Rehearsal Ritual Just past 3:30 P.M., when academic classes at the Ishikawa Middle School come to an end, students begin to enter the band room. Most band members are girls, so their school uniforms consist of formal blouses, jackets, and pleated skirts. Students seem especially bright and energetic upon entering the band room, as if relieved to finally be through with sitting at their desks focused on academic work. They greet each other and converse at length in small groups, giggling, and enjoying themselves. The ages of these students range from 12 to 15 across three academic grades. The younger students tend to greet older students using keigo (formal and polite language), bowing upon greeting, and referring to them as ‘‘Sempai’’ (senior/elder) rather than by their actual names. At this point, if anything in the band room needs to be moved to a different position, it is the responsibility of first-year students to do so. Sometimes if the first-year students delay preparing the room for rehearsal by talking too long among themselves, they are given a warning by older students. ‘‘Ichinensei, piano!’’ (Freshman, the piano!) is all it takes to get them on track fulfilling their duties, and a determined group of first-year students will quickly transfer the grand piano out of the way to its correct location for the rehearsal. The percussion section seems to operate separately from the rest of the band in this regard, focusing exclusively on their own instruments without the assistance of any students from other sections. Gradually, the music stands and chairs, the piano, the podium, and the band director’s electronic keyboard are all placed in their proper positions. Now the students take out and assemble their own instruments. Clarinetists and double reed players (oboe and bassoon) take especially long to assemble their relatively complicated instruments. Often the clarinet players in the front row of the band squat on the floor, facing the band, in order to piece together D.G. Hebert, Wind Bands and Cultural Identity in Japanese Schools, Landscapes: the Arts, Aesthetics, and Education 9, DOI 10.1007/978-94-007-2178-4_4, Ó Springer ScienceþBusiness Media B.V. 2012

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their instruments by making use of their chairs as work desks for the assembly. They chat jovially with fellow bandmembers throughout the process. Students with larger instruments such as baritone saxophone and tuba usually take extra time to bring them out from the storage room and maneuver them around chairs and stands to their appropriate seating position. Those who are the first to assemble their instruments start playing various long tones and simple motifs (slurs and arpeggios) to ‘‘warm up’’. Soon nearly all the band members have arrived, and on most days the membership of this ensemble consists of two boys and more than sixty girls: a gender imbalance that is now commonplace among Japanese school bands.1 One unusual feature of this band – yet unsurprising considering the urban location of the school – is that two student members appear to be foreigners (non-Japanese). Both girls, an Indian-Japanese and an Iranian-Japanese, perform in the percussion section. Rehearsals of the Ishikawa Middle School band proceed according to a wellestablished routine. I identified six components that consistently appeared in the rehearsals: chuuningu (tuning), kiritsu (attention), hajime (beginning), gassou (full band rehearsal), paatore (sectional rehearsal), and owari (ending). In this chapter, each of these six components of the rehearsal process will be described in detail.

4.1.1 Chuuningu Once the Ishikawa Middle School band members have assembled their instruments and played a few notes, it is time for ‘‘chuuningu’’ (tuning). The Bucho (club leader) and Fukubucho (assistant club leader) walk to the front of the band and call out to the ensemble, ‘‘Chuuningu!’’. Everyone stops playing their instruments while the Bucho plays a Bb in octaves on the electronic keyboard that has been placed beside the conducting podium. The Fukubucho holds out a black palm-sized tuner in the direction of a clarinetist. ‘‘Hai!’’, she indicates to the clarinetist to play a pitch on her instrument. The clarinetist takes a breath and plays a long note, at full volume, attempting to precisely match the pitch of the keyboard with her own sound. The tuner is held in her direction in the Fukubucho’s outstretched arm, yet positioned in such a way that only the Fukubucho can see the verdict of the tuning device. She immediately tells the clarinetist if her pitch is accurate, sharp, or flat. Once the clarinetist plays the pitch to the satisfaction of the Fukubucho (usually the first time is fine, but sometimes a second or third try is needed after some quick adjustments to the instrument), this identical process proceeds down the long row of clarinet players. The Bucho again plays a Bb, each of the instrumentalists individually attempt to match it, their pitch is assessed, and the process continues moving on to each member of each section of the enormous band (except for percussion), concluding with the lowest pitched instruments, such as trombones, tuba, and string bass.

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Around the time that this tuning procedure concludes, the band director, Kato Sensei, will arrive. She usually enters the room as the final low instruments finish their tuning, for she is able to hear this process from her office, just down the hall. However, on some days she is delayed by staff meetings, and students will return to ‘‘doodling’’ on their instruments at this point, while the Bucho or Fukubucho leave the band room in order to find Kato Sensei so she can start the rehearsal.

4.1.2 Kiritsu Within the split second that Kato Sensei enters the band room, the Bucho and Fukubucho call out loudly, ‘‘Kiritsu!’’ (roughly the equivalent of ‘‘attention!’’ as used in military organizations). All the student band members immediately stand at attention, silently holding their instruments. It takes several seconds of this intense silence for Kato Sensei to reach the podium at the front of the classroom, where she turns around to face the band. ‘‘Rei!’’ is called out by the Bucho and Fukubucho, and all the students make a deep bow toward Kato Sensei, calling out in unison, ‘‘Onegaishimasu!’’ (Please!). The band members then return to their seated position, and sit in absolute silence while they wait for Kato Sensei’s instructions.

4.1.3 Hajime Kato Sensei is a middle-aged woman who has taught music in Japanese public middle schools for 22 years. She definitely stands out among the enormous group of young students. While the student uniforms feature a striking contrast of white shirts against sharp blue blazers, Kato Sensei is typically dressed in buttoned shirts and trousers of darker, subtle shades. She always wears glasses, a modicum of makeup, minimal jewelry, and sensible shoes, and keeps her hair a manageable length. Kato Sensei’s appearance suggests the demeanor of a serious woman who has devoted her life to her profession.2 Typically, once Kato Sensei reaches the podium and the students are seated, she merely says ‘‘Hajime mashiyou’’ (Let’s begin), and immediately plays Bb octaves on her keyboard. First she has the band play a Bb major scale in whole notes, up and down, within the range most comfortable for each instrument. The percussion section accompanies the scale with steady eighth notes on the snare and half notes on the bass drum. At the end of the final whole note of the scale (on root position Bb), Kato Sensei gives a firm gesture, and the band switches from the unison octaves to full chords on whole notes. At first they play a Bb major chord, then the IV chord of Bb (an Eb major chord with Bb as its root), then return to the I chord (Bb major again), then the V7 chord (an F7 chord with A as its root), and finally return to end on a long, sustained Bb major I chord.

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Fig. 4.1 Tuning motif

On most days this is the extent of the warm up, but sometimes Kato Sensei has certain sections of the band tune their instruments once again, or instructs them through some additional warm-up exercises. In cases when Sensei asks specific band members to re-tune at this stage, she usually has them play a specific motif rather than merely a single Bb whole-note. This tuning motif consists of quarter notes: Bb, down to F, up to C (above the first Bb), down to A (just below the first Bb) and back to Bb (Fig. 4.1).

4.1.4 Gassou At this point, Kato Sensei may instruct some instrumental sections to go to separate rooms for paatore (sectional rehearsal), or she may have the entire band remain for gassou (full band rehearsal). First, I will describe gassou. Kato Sensei announces the name of the piece to be rehearsed and the location in the music at which the band will begin playing. The students immediately shuffle through their folders in order to quickly place the sheet music on their stands. They hold their instruments in playing position. Typically, Kato Sensei will conduct the band through two to three pieces per rehearsal, stopping often to make comments, and requiring the band to play certain parts repeatedly until they obtain her approval. Common statements made by Kato Sensei at such pauses in band performance are ‘‘That’s not matching’’ and ‘‘That sounds strange.’’ She seeks explanations from the instrument section leaders, and then returns to conducting the ensemble with a comment such as ‘‘You must try harder’’ or merely, ‘‘Again!’’ In rehearsal, students do not directly ask questions of Kato Sensei, but they are expected to reply to any questions she may have regarding problems in their own performance. Kato Sensei asks questions particularly of section leaders, requiring them to take responsibility for concerns within their own instrumental section and to commit to resolving such problems within their paatore (sectional rehearsals). In instances where Kato Sensei provides a specific instruction, such as ‘‘From now on we must play this section more softly’’, students throughout the entire ensemble immediately respond with a unison ‘‘Hai!’’ (Yes!). This practice very closely resembles the ‘‘Yes sir!’’ associated with military organizations. The band rehearsal usually continues under Kato Sensei’s guidance on a daily basis for approximately 90 min on every weekday, and typically lasts for several hours on Saturdays and Sundays during most weeks. Throughout the entire process, students are remarkably well-behaved. They sit quietly and attentively, and precisely follow Kato Sensei’s instructions. Section leaders are occasionally seen whispering instructions to younger students, but no ‘‘off

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task’’ or even remotely distracting behavior is visible. No disciplinary problems were observed within the band rehearsals across a full academic year of fieldwork.3 Considering that the band members are young adolescent middle school students, this case represented a truly remarkable example of educational discipline.

4.1.5 Paatore Students refer to band sectional rehearsals as paatore, an elision of the English word ‘‘part’’ (for instrumental part) and the Japanese word for practice (renshuu). Combined in this way, as is common among Japanese slang terms, it sounds roughly like ‘‘part-prac’’. These intense, small group rehearsal sessions of like instruments play a key role for musical learning within the ensemble. Typically, nearly half of the rehearsal time of each week is spent in paatore, most often during the first hour of band rehearsal (3:30–4:30 P.M.), but for much longer on days when Kato Sensei is busy with faculty meetings. Usually each instrumental section practices without Kato Sensei’s supervision, but occasionally, when she wants to focus her attention on rehearsing a particular group of instruments through a troublesome section in the music, the others are sent away from the band room for paatore. Since the band rehearses after school, the classrooms in both wings of the U-shaped building are empty of students.4 This situation has many acoustic advantages. The trumpet and trombone sections, as the loudest instruments, usually practice in rooms at the far ends of each wing. The clarinet, flute, French horn, and saxophone sections each take their own rooms. The double reed instruments (oboe and bassoon) sometimes rehearse in their own rooms, but occasionally join the flutists. Tubas also alternate between joining with the trombones and running their own separate sectional rehearsal. The percussionists usually stay in the band room, because many of their instruments are especially heavy and difficult to move. Once assembled in their separate rooms, students are free to practice individually for about 15 min. This often produces a rather chaotic cacophony of sound, particularly in the rooms occupied by brass players. While one student plays long tones, for example, another will tongue rapidly through a chromatic scale. In the opposite corner of the same room, one plays through lip slur patterns, another blurts out flatulent pedal tones and laughs hysterically, another competes with her partner to see who can play the highest or loudest note, and yet another intensely drills through a section of some sheet music to the insistent and infallible pulse of a metronome. Eventually, after about 15 min of anarchic noise, the section leader announces that it is time to begin and the room immediately falls silent. What happens next varies greatly, depending upon each section leader’s personality and leadership style. Some section leaders run their paatore as though it were a smaller version of the full band gassou rehearsal, directing like Kato Sensei from the front of the room, modeling the

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desired sounds on their own instrument, and pounding out rhythms onto a desk or chair. Others have their section members ‘‘pair up’’ in dyads (of one older and one younger player), enabling the monitoring of more individualistic tutoring. Many of the behaviors observed in paatore exemplify highly effective features of cooperative learning and peer tutoring.5 Paatore always ends at an arranged time (which varies, day by day), enabling students to return to the band room for a gassou full-group rehearsal or concluding instructions from Kato Sensei.

4.1.6 Owari The band rehearsal typically ends with a final statement from Kato Sensei, often a criticism such as ‘‘Next time you must do more to keep on pitch!’’ or ‘‘Today you did not do your best, and you must commit to giving your very best at every rehearsal!’’ Her concluding remark is followed by, ‘‘Soredewa, owari ni shimasu’’ (With that, we will end). At this point, all the students immediately stand as ‘‘Kiritsu!’’ is called again by the Bucho and Fukubucho. Then, with the command of ‘‘Rei!’’ all the band members bow toward Kato Sensei in unison, saying ‘‘Arigatou gozaimashita’’ (Thank you very much). At this point, Kato Sensei leaves the podium and the band members all scramble to put their instruments back into cases and prepare to leave. This ritualized rehearsal pattern was remarkably consistent across each of the band observations at various points in the academic year.

4.2 Band Participants In order to guide the reader in understanding the nature of interactions within this ensemble, it is necessary to introduce several Japanese terms used by the school band members to indicate various people associated with the band.

4.2.1 Ranks and Roles Below is a detailed description of terms used to indicate the ranking of various participants, followed by a description of their roles and responsibilities (Fig. 4.2). Kocho Sensei. Probably the most unusual aspect of the middle school selected for this study is that it is led by a Principal who is also a highly active musician. He is a notable leader in the field of school music education, having served in recent years as President of three relevant organizations: Tokyo Middle School Music Educators Association, Tokyo Middle School Band Directors Association, and Japan Jazz Educators Association.6 Within the

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Japanese Title

English Equivalent

Kocho Sensei

Schoolmaster (or Principal)

Buraban Sensei

Band club teacher/coach

Bucho

Band club leader (elected student)

Fukubucho

Assistant band club leader (an elected student)

Paatorida

Section leader (e.g. principal clarinetist)

Sempai

Student with seniority (term used in oppositional relationship to kohai)

Kohai

Younger student (term used in oppositional relationship with sempai)

Fig. 4.2 Ranks and roles in the school band

school context, the principal is sometimes referred to by the generic ‘‘Sensei’’, but more often by his full title, ‘‘Kocho Sensei’’ (meaning ‘‘school-head-teacher’’). He is regarded as fully competent and diligent worker, and highly respected by his peers, as well as teachers and students within the school. Buraban Sensei. ‘‘Buraban Sensei’’ means band teacher, and the conductor of the band club at Ishikawa Middle School is Ms. Kato. In the band context, students merely refer to her as ‘‘Sensei’’, but to outsiders she is described as the ‘‘Buraban Sensei’’ at their school. Statistically, women band directors have become the norm in Japanese schools, yet very few have gained a solid reputation for leading bands to the highest levels of national competition. However, the Ishikawa Middle School band has recently attained a gold medal under the baton of Kato Sensei. She works as the school’s full-time music teacher, and is employed primarily to teach academic music courses, yet is also expected to serve as faculty advisor for the extra-curricular band club. A clear picture of the personality of this devoted teacher, her background, instructional objectives, and coaching strategies will emerge throughout this book, but is especially demonstrated in Chapters 10 and 12. In terms of her role within the band, Kato Sensei’s position is endowed with power to make final decisions affecting the ensemble. While the Kocho Sensei occasionally makes suggestions, Kato Sensei appears to be highly competent, and there is never any indication that her decisions might be over-ruled. It is also clear that students, though technically considered leaders of the club, are expected to submit to their Buraban Sensei’s authority while she conducts from the podium. Throughout the fieldwork, no decisions based on explicit voting practices were observed within rehearsals. Rather, Kato Sensei publicly made

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decisions from the podium, possibly with some private input from student leaders or the Kocho Sensei. This style of leadership is similar to that seen throughout the entire Japanese educational system, including universities, which lack transparency in their administrative decisions and discourage the formation of both student governments and authentically democratic governance procedures among their faculty. Still, the band club is considered a student-run organization, and the Buraban Sensei’s role differs from that of a classroom music teacher. Unlike academic courses, the advisors of such student clubs are not constrained by a mandatory curriculum, the need to produce student evaluations, nor accountability to the Ministry of Education. The most significant assessment of their work as student club advisors comes from public performances and ratings at competitions. Bucho. Literally, ‘‘club leader’’, this is the highest level elected student position within the ensemble, typically a student in his or her final year of middle school (grade 9, ages 14–15). The Bucho assists the Buraban Sensei with numerous tasks during full band rehearsals and is responsible for maintaining discipline within the organization and ensuring that the Buraban Sensei is informed of any problems that cannot be adequately resolved at the student level. The Bucho holds private meetings with student groups in order to discuss concerns and resolve minor disputes before they become significant enough to require the intervention of the Buraban Sensei. In this respect, the role of Bucho is more powerful than is typical of student leaders in the school ensembles of Western nations, particularly at the middle school level. However, many parallels may be seen with the organizational structure of athletic organizations, including martial arts. Fukubucho. Literally, ‘‘vice club leader’’, this is the second highest level elected student position within the ensemble, and tends to be occupied by a second year student (grade 8, ages 13–14), as it is assumed that this person will be automatically promoted to the rank of Bucho in her or her final year of school. In this way, the Fukubucho is mentored by the Bucho, while serving for a year as her assistant. Paatorida. This term, (derived from the English words ‘‘part’’ and ‘‘leader’’), denotes the first chair player of each instrumental section. Typically both the Bucho and Fukubucho are also Paatorida within their respective instrumental sections. The Paatorida are responsible for running sectional rehearsals and are expected to shoulder the responsibility for any errors within the musical performance of their instrumental section. Students who are not Paatorida are expected to feel a moral obligation to follow directions and carefully imitate the performance of the Paatorida in order for their sound to blend with the ensemble. Sempai and Kohai. Literally, ‘‘Senior’’ and ‘‘Junior’’, these oppositional terms refer to the combination of age and experience attributed to different ‘‘gakunen’’ (school grades). There are three gakunen in the school: Ichinensei (first-year student), Ninensei (second-year student), and Sannensei (third-year students). Compared with the American educational system, these roughly

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correspond with grade 7 (ages 12–13), grade 8 (ages 13–14), and grade 9 (ages 14–15), respectively. The system of Sempai/Kohai relations is referred to in Japanese as ‘‘jougekankei’’. This system of hierarchical organization is based exclusively on seniority, which means that regardless of ability, a Ninensei is automatically Sempai to an Ichinensei Kohai, and so on. Students with seniority are considered responsible for guiding those with less experience, who in return are expected to submit to the commands of their elders. Students of the same gakunen (school grade) are referred to as ‘‘dokyusei’’. Lacking a firmly preestablished hierarchy, dokyusei are most prone to rivalry.

4.2.2 Jougekankei System Jougekankei (literally ‘‘higher-lower relationships’’) is the Japanese term used to describe the distinctive form of mentorship associated with many domains within Japanese society. Cultural anthropologist Theodore Bestor, who has conducted extensive fieldwork in Tokyo, made the following observations regarding jougekankei: Relationships between kohai and senpai – between a subordinate and a superior, based on seniority within an educational institution or a bureaucratic organization – characterize Japanese social life in many domains: higher education, companies, government bureaucracies, political parties, and artistic groups, among others. Typically a kohai may rely on his or her senpai for advice and aid; in turn a senpai should be able to count on the kohai’s loyalty and respect. Such ties – based on elementary school classes – function at the level of neighborhood social relationships, too, and even well into adult life senpai retain some degree of moral authority over their kohai.7

In the context of the Ishikawa Middle School band, jougekankei was reified by Kato Sensei through her frequent use of rank terms (rather than names) when addressing students, as well as her consistent instructions directed to younger students that they must follow the directions of senior students. Typically, at several points within every rehearsal, Kato Sensei made explicit instructions in this regard, such as ‘‘Trumpet section leader, have them get this worked out in your sectional’’, and ‘‘First year clarinetists, if you still can’t figure out the fingerings, just follow your Sempai’’. This kind of discourse clearly encouraged students to acknowledge and appreciate their prescribed roles and fulfil their obligations to the ensemble. Scholars have suggested that the traditional Japanese system of jougekankei social organization enables social cohesion and stability at the expense of discouraging innovation and individual creativity. The very same tenacity that enabled Japanese society to preserve traditions that completely disappeared in other nations (such as gagaku court music) may also – in theory – hinder the development of potentially beneficial social change.8 Some criticisms of school bands offered by Japanese music educationists have emphasized the effects of jougekankei and ‘‘militaristic’’ practices within these ensembles.9 Depending on the personal qualities of those in positions of seniority,

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jougekankei may engender highly effective mentorship. However, some contemporary Japanese view jougekankei as a social practice of dubious efficacy, and question its role within education.10 School bands may serve as an important example of how young Japanese are enculturated (or socialized) into jougekankei, which enables them to prepare for functioning as well-adjusted adults in a hierarchical society. To some degree it seems accurate to suggest that school bands of any nation may serve as a form of enculturation and socialization, yet the kinds of lessons learned from the school band experience may differ greatly between cultures. From this basic introduction to the rehearsal ritual and key participants in the Ishikawa Middle School Band, a picture of a rather different musical culture is already emerging, one that may challenge readers to rethink the implications, and ultimately, the limitations of music education. The next chapter will examine precisely how musical lessons are taught in the context of the Ishikawa Middle School Band.

Notes 1. See Shinzanno (2000), p. 118. 2. Kato Sensei’s personality, educational training, daily schedule, and responsibilities as a school music teacher and band director are discussed in detail within Chapters 10 and 12, and her approach to band directing is analyzed in Chapter 5. 3. The only exception was the ‘‘Kimigayo incident’’ described in Chapter 16. 4. See Fig. 2.1 for a visual layout of the Ishikawa Middle School’s architectural design. 5. A detailed description of how cooperative learning and peer tutoring are incorporated into rehearsals is provided in Chapter 11. 6. Relevant Japanese organizations and institutions in the fields of wind bands and music education are described in detail within Chapters 12 and 13. 7. See Bestor (1989), p. 220. 8. See Roesgaard (1998) for further discussion. 9. See Koide (2000). 10. See Sugimoto (1997), pp. 131–132.

References Bestor, T. C. (1989). Neighborhood Tokyo. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press. Koide, M. (2000). Suisogaku shidoniokeru kyoujukoui kenkyuno hitsuyosei [The importance of studying teaching conduct in school brass band instruction]. In Ongaku Kyoikugaku Kenkyu, II [Music Education Research Studies] (pp. 21–30). Tokyo: Ongakuno Tomosha (for the Japan Academic Society for Music Education). Roesgaard, M. H. (1998). Moving mountains: Japanese education reform. Aarhus: Aarhus University Press.

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Shinzanno, M. (2000). Kyoushito seitono yakuwariwo meikakunishita gakko suisoigaku katsudou seisenkani kansuru ichishian [A new approach to organizing school band programs: Re-examination of the relationship between band director and band students]. In Ongaku Kyoikugaku Kenkyu, II [Music Education Research Studies] (pp. 116–129). Tokyo: Ongakuno Tomosha (for the Japan Academic Society for Music Education). Sugimoto, Y. (1997). An introduction to Japanese society. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Chapter 5

Instruction in the Japanese School Band

学問に王道なし Gakumonni oudou nashi ‘‘There is no royal path to learning’’ – perseverance is essential for all

Teaching is a complex human endeavour that is difficult to describe with accuracy, yet observers are usually quite confident in their ability to identify ‘‘good teaching’’ with relative certainty. This becomes more difficult, however, when the underlying objectives of the teaching are unclear. In the case of music, effective teaching may look quite different if one’s objectives are to guide students toward masterfully performing a particular piece, or toward being able to accurately identify various components of musical structure, to effectively sight-read or creatively improvise in a musical tradition, or to convincingly demonstrate their patriotic sentiments through song. The practice of effective music teaching requires a guiding philosophy to serve as a basis for instruction. I originally embarked on this study partly in the hope of uncovering pedagogical ‘‘secrets of success’’ associated with the miraculous model of Japanese school bands portrayed in English-language articles. It was only through the actual experience of fieldwork that an accurate understanding of the band director’s role was fully realized. There are certainly musical ‘‘miracles’’ that happen as young people develop the skill and the sensibility to play music together so well within the ensemble, and there are decidedly many techniques that the band director employs to raise students to such a high level of musicianship. But, as will be demonstrated, it is striking that the Japanese band director actually teaches less than American school band directors in terms of musical concepts and instrumental techniques. How, then, are the students learning? A key factor appears to be time. A competitive Japanese school band consistently rehearses four to five times as much as many American school ensembles. On an average week, the Ishikawa Middle School band rehearsed over 20 h (including day-long rehearsals on Saturday), compared with a typical schedule of less than 5 h/week of band rehearsals at many American middle schools. My D.G. Hebert, Wind Bands and Cultural Identity in Japanese Schools, 109 Landscapes: the Arts, Aesthetics, and Education 9, DOI 10.1007/978-94-007-2178-4_5, Ó Springer ScienceþBusiness Media B.V. 2012

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survey revealed similar rehearsal schedules among other Japanese bands. On the week prior to the All-Japan Band Association competition, while most of the Ishikawa Middle School was on vacation, the band practiced from 9 A.M. to 6 P.M. every day, including the weekend, for a total of over 50 h of rehearsal in a single week (July 22–29). The rehearsal schedule in the week prior to the final concert of the year was also remarkably strenuous, exceeding 30 h in a single week through its combination of extended evening rehearsals and all-day rehearsals on Saturday and Sunday (March 16–23). Outside the factor of rehearsal time, the most striking features of Japanese bands as successful student ensembles were determined to be more closely associated with effective learning strategies than with particular pedagogies. Specifically, musical learning advanced through the ritualization of peer tutoring practices within the school band culture (examined in detail within Chapter 11). It is important to note, however, that the school ensembles of any nation may be considered in terms of culture, and as such, may still remain malleable to the insightful leadership of effective teachers.1 In other words, although it may not be appropriate to seek exemplary demonstrations of effective instruction from the coaching of a ‘‘student-led club’’, Western music teachers may still have much to learn from a Japanese school band, particularly in terms of ways to nurture the development of a culture of musical achievement within their own ensembles. With these points in mind, there are two especially useful models for comparison that seem to offer helpful context for consideration of the instructional approach of a Japanese school band director: (1) Athletic coach, and (2) Hogaku sensei, or teacher of Japanese traditional music. These choices for comparison may come as a surprise, but are proposed in all sincerity, and I hope readers will consider this explanation with an open mind.

5.1 Band Director as Coach Prior to description of specific instructional strategies used in the Japanese school band, a crucial point must be made clear. The institutional role of a Japanese school band director may in many ways more closely resemble the Western notion of an athletic ‘‘coach’’2 than a ‘‘school music teacher.’’ There appear to be seven considerations that lend support to this metaphorical assertion: (1) The band is an after-school extracurricular activity that coincides with, and serves a parallel institutional function to, athletic activities; (2) Like sports, the annual schedule of band activities is structured around competitive events, and the band’s repertoire is profoundly affected by the requirements of these competitions; (3) The band director’s leadership style emphasizes repetitive drills, and the motivation of students to persevere with their greatest efforts (rather than focusing on learning and mastery of musical concepts); (4) Significant responsibilities are bestowed on student leaders within the band, who, like ‘‘team captains,’’ football quarterbacks, and the like, are largely credited

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with the successes and failures of the band organization; (5) Like sports, the coaching of the student-run ensemble is not explicitly considered to be ‘‘teaching’’, as educational objectives for school bands are not addressed by Japan’s powerful Ministry of Education, the All-Japan Band Association, or any other relevant institutions, and are not explicitly defined by individual schools or band directors; (6) The band director and club leaders emphasize the winning of band competitions, and focus on building teamwork skills and esprit de corps through the ensemble, rather than on facilitation of comprehensive musical knowledge or achievement of educational ‘‘standards’’ in music; and (7) The band director may be employed as the teacher of an academic subject other than music, particularly in cases where the school music teacher has no band experience. Again, this situation resembles the familiar model of a math teacher who coaches a volleyball team (instead of the P.E. teacher, for example). Clearly, the role of the Japanese school band director is quite different from that associated with American schools, and in terms of familiarity, the American sports coach model may serve as a useful analogy. Yet, aspects of this model are not completely unfamiliar in the field of music. A Japanese school band may share some similarities with the model of marching bands often encountered in American schools, as these may be extracurricular offerings, and tend to emphasize competition, uniformity, and teamwork. Other key points may also be shared with various community ensembles in Western nations.

5.2 Band Director as Hogaku Sensei To Japanese readers, it may seem far-fetched to compare a school band director with a teacher of Japanese traditional music, such as koto or shakuhachi, but for those less familiar with Japanese culture I am convinced that useful insights may be gained from the exercise of making this comparison. A number of music education researchers and ethnomusicologists have produced models precisely for the purpose of comparing traditional music teaching pedagogies, some of whom have even addressed Japan using a comparative framework.3 But prior to discussion of the characteristics of hogaku (Japanese traditional music) pedagogy, and comparison with wind band conducting, it is necessary to briefly discuss its traditional institutional context, referred to as the ‘‘iemoto system’’. In Japanese language, iemoto refers to the figurehead of an artistic school, and for each Japanese traditional art form there are typically several exclusive schools. Students are expected to commit to studies within a single school, and to gradually climb through its ranks by developing seniority. Within this system students are typically expected to devote themselves to a single teacher, and are discouraged from studying the traditions of rival schools. Gerald Groemer, a leading ethnomusicologist of Japan who translated Nishiyama’s authoritative text on the subject of Edo-period traditions, defined this model as

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‘‘a hierarchical system in which a real or nominal family head (iemoto) passes on a ‘house art’ to disciples who in turn may have their own pupils.’’4 The iemoto model appears to have influenced the institutionalization of Western music in Japanese schools, particularly in terms of emphasis placed on pedagogical lineage and authority associated with Japan’s ‘‘prestigious’’ conservatories. Ricardo Trimillos identified the status of the hogaku sensei as an important factor in the pedagogy of Japanese traditional music: ‘‘Status is certainly part of the system. The status of sensei, teacher, is much more than one from whom you learn music. The sensei is a status so high above the student . . .’’5 Trimillos also identified teacher modeling and student creativity as key issues in hogaku pedagogy: ‘‘In the learning context, creativity and individual expression are discouraged. Rather, the goal is to perform the piece exactly as the teacher has presented it.’’6 Andreas Gutzwiller observed that teacher modeling is emphasized in shakuhachi flute instruction, and that verbal instructions are intentionally avoided. He found that from the perspective of the shakuhachi sensei, ‘‘Any explanation from the side of the teacher in a medium other than music imposes a progress on the student from without. And only the progress the student has made at his own pace, without being urged to do so, is the progress that counts.’’7 This observation also suggests that motivation is the responsibility of students in this model, and that (unlike some Western pedagogical approaches) teachers are not expected to provide enthusiastic affirmation, cheering their students on toward achievement of sequentially arranged and clearly delineated objectives. In other words, aspects of this traditional model that has withstood the test of time over many generations appear to contradict Western theories of effective instruction.8 Essentially, the Sensei simply models the correct sounds, and the student imitates. Another important theme in the traditional pedagogy of koto, shakuhachi, and other Japanese instruments is its emphasis on spiritual concepts associated with Zen Buddhism. In a chapter of his book, Six Hidden Views of Japanese Music, ethnomusicologist William P. Malm recalled his experiences as both a student and teacher of Japanese traditional music. According to Malm, ‘‘a Japanese lesson is ritually and intellectually structured in such a way that its ultimate goal may be spiritual rather than musical.’’9 Malm explained that in Japanese traditional music, modeling of performance skills tends to be more effective than any attempts to provide explanations (in his role as both student and teacher). Malm also mentioned the importance of ritual movement in performance as a means by which to mentally focus on the aesthetic and spiritual objectives. This respectful view of Japanese traditional pedagogy is far removed from Malm’s own interpretation over 25 years earlier in which he wrote, ‘‘As a teaching method, hogaku instruction seems unnecessarily tedious. The rote method, as used in Japan, is constantly in danger of producing musical automatons.’’10 According to Patrick Halliwell (a Canadian koto player/ethnomusicologist), ‘‘traditional teaching methods in Japanese koto music may be generally described as follows: (1) there is virtually no explicit ‘theory’ or teaching of

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theory as it is known in the West; (2) there are no ‘exercises;’ the teaching of instrumental and vocal technique is integrated with the teaching of musical ‘text;’ (3) there is no explicit conceptual distinction between ‘text’ and ‘interpretation;’ one learns to play following the teacher’s example; (4) there is very little verbal explanation, either of technique or of musical or expressive content.’’11 Additionally, Halliwell noted the following observations regarding hogaku pedagogy: (5) playing together is fundamental; (6) teachers may use speech, shoga (oral representation of musical sound), or purely musical means to convey information to the student; (7) notation, often used nowadays, is nevertheless of relatively minor importance.12 Interestingly, as I will demonstrate, there are similarities to be found between Japanese school band directing and hogaku pedagogy, on a number of points. These include (1) emphasis placed on institutional lineage (e.g. the program from which a band director graduated or experts she has studied under), (2) respect shown to the band director by her students through both verbal and non-verbal codes of behavior, (3) emphasis on teacher modeling and student imitation of musical phrases, (4) minimal role of creativity on the part of students, (5) minimal verbal instruction from the teacher, particularly regarding performance technique, (6) emphasis on spiritual and personal development rather than only musical skills, (7) emphasis on repetition (which is sometimes viewed as tedious), (8) minimal role of notational literacy (such as practice of sight reading), (9) emphasis on drilling of actual pieces rather than technical exercises, (10) minimal discussion of musical interpretation (since recordings provide a definitive model for bands while the Sensei directly performs the model in hogaku), and (11) emphasis on playing together. With this background in mind, it now seems best to proceed by describing exactly what the Japanese school band director does in rehearsals.

5.3 Instructional Process This section will examine Kato Sensei’s pedagogical approach in rehearsals of the Ishikawa Middle School band, particularly in terms of major themes of interest to Western music educators.13 Kato Sensei directed the band from a podium, usually from a seated position on her high stool. With a short baton, she indicated the rhythmic pulse through a beat pattern that varied in trajectory to convey accents and articulation. With her free hand, Kato Sensei indicated dynamic levels and cued instrumental parts. Her conducting style was efficient and clear. Certainly, during the expressive moments of certain pieces (e.g. ‘‘Swan Lake’’), she would stand and gracefully convey the phrasing through dance-like gestures, but for the most part Kato Sensei conducted with a concise and consistent pattern, free of expressive distractions. Kato Sensei’s rehearsals consisted of intense, high paced, semi-sequential patterns of instruction. Typically, she made extensive use of repetition and sparingly

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provided concise verbal criticisms. Kato Sensei would indicate a cut-off gesture with her baton and make a 2- to 5-second statement toward one of the instrumental sections. Among her most commonly used phrases in this regard were the sequence ‘‘Nani sore? Mo ichido!’’ (What’s that? Again!), followed by an immediate repetition of the objectionable musical phrase, cued with her baton. This was often followed by a comment such as ‘‘Mada’’ (Not yet) or ‘‘Mo ikkai’’ (Once more) and another repetition of the same musical material, repetition with or without specific feedback, cued with the baton. Kato Sensei’s semisequential method of band directing may be distilled to a 5-point model consisting of music-making, problem identification, repetition with or without specific feedback, instructor modeling, and transfer to section leaders (Fig. 5.1). Kato Sensei’s five-point approach was effective for obtaining solutions to most musical problems in the ensemble, but differs in some ways with the notion of ‘‘sequential patterns of instruction’’ associated with American band pedagogy.14 She began by conducting the band through a piece of music (point 1)

Kato Sensei’s 5-Point Approach to Band Directing (1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

Music-making Problem identification Repetition, with or without specific feedback Direct modeling Assignment to section leaders

1.

Music-making. Tells the band where to start, gives a preparatory gesture, and begins conducting the band through a piece of music.

2.

Problem identification. Cuts off the band when a significant problem is heard. Verbally directs relevant student’s attention to the problematic area, or simply tells them which part to repeat without specific verbal feedback. “Mo ichido” (Again).

3.

Repetition, with or without specific feedback. Conducts a specific instrumental section (e.g., clarinets), or the entire band, through a repetition of the problematic musical segment. If the problem then appears to be solved, continues conducting the ensemble further through the music until the next problem is encountered; then repeats the sequence (from steps 1 to 3). In each case, if the problem is not solved immediately, moves on to step 4. If step 4 has already been attempted, moves on to step 5.

4.

Direct modeling. If the problem is not solved after step 3, provides a model for the students. For missed notes or intonation problems entailing chords or complex intervals, uses keyboard for modeling. Phrasing of melodic lines is modeled through use of the voice. Uses either hand clapping or vocables to model complex rhythms and accents. Returns to step 3.

5.

Assignment to section leaders. If the section leader appears to be playing her part correctly, encourages the individual to play once through the problematic section on her instrument; then returns to step 3 with the entire relevant instrumental section. But if it appears that even the section leader is incapable of playing the part correctly without individual practice, instructs her to solve this problem in the sectional rehearsals, and returns to step 1. If the problem persists, overlooksit temporarily in order to focus on other more immediately solvable concerns.

Fig. 5.1 Kato Sensei’s 5-point approach to band conducting

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until she noticed a problem in their performance (point 2), at which time she would stop the ensemble and have them repeat the problematic section (point 3). Upon reaching points 2 and 3, it is significant that Kato Sensei would often require the ensemble to repeat a musical segment without specifying her reason for doing so. This practice might seem ineffective in terms of the potential clarity missed in the absence of precise feedback, yet it is also conceivable that the curiosity piqued by this absence of specificity might aid in facilitating the development of independent problem-solving skills among students. In such cases, students are encouraged by Kato Sensei to think musically in order to determine for themselves what adjustments must be made before being permitted by their conductor to cease the repetitions and continue on to the rest of the music. This pedagogical characteristic resembles the notions of enryo (restraint or subtlety) and hitoni meiwakuwo kakenai (one mustn’t speak distressingly to another) characteristic of Japanese discourse, whereby the speaker avoids directly communicating a key point that should be obvious to a mindful and empathetic other. Point 4 (direct modeling) is the key stage in Kato Sensei’s approach at which she contributes her own musicality to the process. Conducting always with an electronic keyboard conveniently placed beside the podium, Kato Sensei would immediately put it to use for the modeling of problematic sections. She often used the keyboard to model melodic excerpts, and also ‘‘scatted’’ some sections in order to demonstrate vocally how she hoped students would play their parts. Keyboard was used particularly for sections with harmony or unusual intervallic relationships, while voice was used to demonstrate the phrasing and expressive contours of key melodic lines. Kato Sensei’s choice of vocables enabled her to immediately express the style and articulation of musical phrases: ‘‘tu, tu-tu-tu’’ for a staccato rhythm, and ‘‘la, la-la, loo’’ for a broader, legato style. When students became too tired to play, particularly during lengthy weekend rehearsals, she would also have them sing through their parts. Point 5 (assignment to section leaders) was reached several times in each rehearsal, yet this transfer of responsibility also served paradoxically as an effective leadership strategy. It enabled Kato Sensei to instill respect for the strongest players, reinforce a sense of duty associated with the ensemble hierarchy, and specify tasks to be completed by students in their peer-tutored sectional rehearsals. Rather than a ‘‘positive and relaxed music-making atmosphere,’’15 the tone of the Ishikawa Middle School band rehearsals was quite formal and even rather severe at times. However, as will be discussed, interactions within the sectional rehearsals were friendly, as most of the older students patiently devoted attention to guiding the younger students toward achievement. In The Cambridge Companion to Conducting, Barber advises ensemble conductors to use humor: ‘‘Make jokes. Self-deprecation never hurts. Jokes relieve tension, save feelings, shape the music, and have often saved the rehearsal.’’16 To the contrary, Kato Sensei’s rehearsal style was quite serious, with few examples of humor from the podium observed during the fieldwork, although she used

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humor quite skillfully outside the rehearsal context. It is well documented that in many Japanese instructional settings, the teacher and students maintain an atmosphere of intense formality.17 Nevertheless, some of the uniquely Japanese techniques (described later in this chapter) were clearly funny and enjoyable for the students. Kato Sensei’s instruction made use of relatively few metaphors, yet it also entailed few specific technical explanations. Mostly, through her conducting of the ensemble, musical problems were identified, and rather than specific suggestions for how to solve technical problems associated with particular instruments, students were merely told to repeat, again and again (often with modeling provided by the teacher or section leaders), until they could play it correctly. This characteristic was similar to what is commonly seen in both athletic coaching and traditional Japanese hogaku music pedagogy,18 yet aspects may also resemble many Western approaches to instrumental learning.19 Overall, Kato Sensei provided much negative feedback, and little positive feedback, and the negative feedback was specific in terms of musical concerns, but not in terms of instrumental technique. Physical gestures – including posture, eye-contact, and facial expression – among the band members clearly indicated that they were attentive, respectful, cooperative, and fully committed to following the instructions of Kato Sensei and the section leaders.20 However, eye contact was often inconsistent in Kato Sensei’s instruction. In the case of errors in specific parts or disciplinary issues, she would provide outstanding eye contact, staring directly at the relevant students. Yet, there were also many occasions when she mostly focused on the musical score as she conducted, glimpsing only occasionally at students as they played their instruments. As a result, Kato Sensei was quite successful at managing the ensemble, and at dealing with specific musical corrections, but was less helpful with specific technical problems on their instruments that would have been visually discernible (e.g. inefficient embouchure, breath support, fingerings, etc.). Additionally, variations in Kato Sensei’s general level of teaching intensity were observed, as on some days she was clearly more energetic than others. During the final rehearsals prior to key performances, indicators of a higher level of teaching intensity increased dramatically, with prolonged eye-contact, more frequent and emphatic verbalizations, and faster instructional pacing.

5.4 Zettai Dame!: Negative Feedback ‘‘Zettai dame!’’ (Completely wrong!) was a commonly used phrase that exemplifies Kato Sensei’s use of negative feedback. Negative feedback played a key role in her instructional style. In some of the videotaped rehearsals, very few, if any, instances of positive feedback may be identified. Rather than saying ‘‘Yokatta’’ (Great) or ‘‘Yoku natta’’ (That’s better), Kato Sensei would simply continue conducting, providing no feedback when problems had apparently

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improved sufficiently to merit moving on to other concerns. Recent research findings have demonstrated that many expert American instrumental music teachers similarly make little use of positive feedback, although earlier studies have suggested it may be most effective to aim for a balance of negative and positive feedback.21 Often Kato Sensei’s negative feedback seemed rather severe. For example, on January 13, she ended the rehearsal with the words, ‘‘If you don’t tune well, this is all a waste of time! That’s all for today’’. One month later, on February 13, she made the following comments: ‘‘That sounds bizarre! What are you thinking with that kind of noise?,’’ (from videotape data: Okashii. Naniwo kangaete iruno? Urusai, Zettai muri, zettai dame, etc.). Later she announced, ‘‘Freshmen, you are going to be second-year students soon. What are you thinking with that kind of noise – you should be trying harder!,’’ and still later, ‘‘It seems like there are only two people in the entire band who listen to me – the Bucho [club leader] and Fukubucho [vice-club leader] – so I have to say the same things again and again!’’. Despite such statements, it is clear that Kato Sensei cares deeply about her students’ education, yet she considers direct, candid and concise statements to be necessary in the role of conductor. The following example of negative feedback in her instruction is excerpted from field notes during the final few weeks before the year-end concert: The room is perfectly silent as each student stares with blank, emotionless faces at Kato Sensei, listening to her speech. Glancing at various students throughout the room, her face appears struggling to conceal anger. ‘‘You all must try harder. You only have one chance to perform for the graduation, and you must use this chance to express your appreciation of your Sempai who will soon leave forever. You must sacrifice to do your very best for this concert, and nothing else will suffice! Otherwise, what can you expect when it is your turn to graduate? Your Sempai will be listening not just to the band as a whole, but to your particular part. They will be listening to your instrument and hearing everything: ‘Ooh, that was missed,’ ‘Weird,’ ‘Oh, another mistake,’ ‘That makes me mad!!’. Do you understand me?? This is heavy, you see. Just like at the competition, you all must sacrifice to do your very best at the graduation concert. If you make a mistake, nothing can be done about it, but your Sempai will certainly know, I assure you. It is okay if the pitch is not completely perfect, but you must do a performance that makes it clear to your Sempai that you tried your best. The reason is, your Sempai performed with all of you, so they know whether or not you have really devoted your greatest efforts’’ [At this point, a climax in Kato Sensei’s voice implies conclusion.] ‘‘Hai!’’, a chorus of unison voices replying ‘‘Yes!’’ is called out across the entire room. Yet she continues: ‘‘Now, everything you do seems to be only half-way. How can anyone be satisfied at the graduation with such a performance? You must fill this music with your heart and soul. Even today, you must show your best performance. In that way, you must remember the music. Otherwise, you are being disrespectful to your Sempai. Percussionists, you must stay on the beat!’’ [The percussion students grimace in response to Kato Sensei’s criticisms at this point, but say nothing.] Kato Sensei continues, ‘‘Especially on the drumset! The tuba players are not with us because they are confused by your sound. You are taking too much liberty with this music. You are being selfish by not fulfilling the responsibility of playing in time with me!’’

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[Here the two rival drummers glare at each other.] Kato Sensei explains further, ‘‘You must use this moment for deep self-reflection [hansei]. If you become too anxious, no one is able to play together.’’ She pauses for a moment, and then declares, ‘‘All of you have failed on this piece, so let’s just move on to ‘Kimigayo’.’’

At this point, the band played through Kimigayo, the national anthem of Japan, but after only one run through the piece, Kato Sensei stopped the band and referred to their performance as ‘‘Zettai muri!’’ (completely hopeless) and ‘‘Zettai dame!’’ (completely wrong). Interestingly, this critical approach seemed to be Kato Sensei’s ‘‘on the podium’’ persona, as throughout the fieldwork experience she made mostly positive statements outside the role of ‘‘conductor.’’ In fact, when speaking with students individually she was compassionate and genuinely interested in their needs. Students described Kato Sensei as a ‘‘kind teacher’’, yet several also explained that she was ‘‘scary’’ in rehearsals. This irony may at first seem confusing, but considered within the larger context of Japanese culture and education, it has its own sense-making to it. In one context, Kato Sensei would take on the role of compassionate mentor and counselor, while in the other she was expected to be a decisive, Toscaninian commander. Very similar approaches were frequently observed in visits to rehearsals of other Japanese school bands, particularly prior to important performances.

5.5 Use of Models Recorded models were used extensively within the Ishikawa Middle School band. Kato Sensei explained that ‘‘supplemental to viewing the sheet music, it is useful for them to hear a performance by a strong player on their instrument. . . . I make selections and design a CD for them to borrow. . . . I use recordings of successful band performances from the national competition, or of the Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra. And then, when no commercial CD is available I borrow recordings of other middle school bands. In the case of Swan Lake, since it is a band arrangement of an orchestral piece, we listened to the orchestral version as well.’’ Such CDs were distributed to section leaders, who listened to the recordings both at home and along with their fellow students during the sectional rehearsals. During such small group listening sessions, band members were observed simultaneously listening, reading the notation, and fingering through their individual parts. Later, they would stop to comment on the interpretation in the recording and compare it with what they saw on the page as well as with problems currently confronted in their own performance of the music. Section leaders also recorded their own sections playing through various parts of the music, and then critically listened to the recordings, making comments together as a small group, with particular attention to blend, balance, intonation, articulation, phrasing, and other concerns. In such contexts, students routinely compared their own performance with that of the

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professionals modeled on the CD recording. It was impressive to see students of this age so determined to analyze and attain a perfect imitation of the professional model. To what extent are recorded models used within this system of musical learning? Within the Ishikawa Middle School band, there is no curriculum outside the band works performed: no sequential lessons, ensemble methods, drills, or exercises, other than what has already been described, although through the paatore students tend to acquire some exercises suited to their particular instruments. Essentially, in this model, the repertoire is the curriculum, much like hogaku pedagogy. As a result, many musical skills developed in other models of music education are almost entirely absent: improvisation, sight-reading, and composition. Knowledge of the context of pieces, including music history and composers’ biographies, is also mostly absent from this model, yet some of this information may be included in the compulsory academic music courses. In other words, rather than aiming for comprehensive musical knowledge, the emphasis is on accurate group performance through imitation of established models. In the USA, research studies examining the effectiveness of the use of recorded models in music learning have produced mixed results.22 Despite inconclusive support for its efficacy, some American music educators regularly make use of recorded models. However, the extent to which this strategy is incorporated into sectional rehearsals of American school bands appears to be less than what was observed within the Japanese band. Regarding imitation of models, another relevant observation is worth mentioning at this point. As discussed earlier, the band room is located on the second floor of the school building, at the ‘‘bottom’’ of the U shape. Windows allow one to view the inner courtyard from the hallway. In front of some of these windows, and directly across from the door to the band rehearsal room are a number of display cases for student artwork. It is common in Western nations to display student art projects, so one might think this is hardly worth mentioning. Yet, each time I walked by the display case I was reminded of cultural differences. The art projects in the display case were always identical: picture frames, pen holders, and CD racks assembled from wood, identically rendered by several different students. There were always about five of each item featured, and absolutely the only difference between them was a label that mentioned the name of the student and the homeroom he or she was affiliated with. I often thought about this art display case and compared it with what I was seeing in the band room. In a way, this art display case seemed to embody some fundamental principles in terms of an approach to artistic expression associated with the Japanese educational system. Rather than rewarding originality, there seems to be great emphasis on perfect imitation of established forms. It seems that beauty is to be found in the process of perfect imitation. I had never seen a display of such identical projects in schools of other nations.23 If anything, art teachers in the USA tend to cherish those student creations that deviate most from established models without completely losing a sense of form. Through

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such use of recorded models, the Ishikawa Middle School band students were able to clearly identify their objectives with each piece, and assess improvements made within their own performance relative to the modeled ideal.

5.6 Uniquely Japanese Techniques Kato Sensei used some special techniques in her instruction that are not common to American wind bands. Three of these techniques seemed especially useful, and are described in this section.24 Balloon blowing. Kato Sensei used a variety of techniques to enable band members to more fully understand how to breathe deeply, the most common being the balloon blowing exercise.25 In each music folder, students kept balloons that would be used for this exercise as a supplemental part of the warm-up routine about once a week. In balloon blowing, all students except for the percussion section stand or sit in their chairs with good posture, holding balloons up to their mouths. Kato Sensei motions to the percussion section to begin a rhythmic pattern (moderato tempo: eighth notes on the snare, half notes on the bass drum). Kato Sensei then plays a half note Bb on her keyboard. Keeping with the percussion beat, she immediately cues the band to blow into their balloons for two whole note values (a total of eight beats, or 16 snare drum taps). Without losing a beat, she immediately proceeds to play a C half note on her keyboard, and the process continues in this way, up and down the Bb major scale. A total of ten beats is spent on each note – two beats of modeled sound, and eight beats of blowing. During the blowing, students ‘‘audiate’’26 the modeled pitch (imagine its sound), and try to keep a steady stream of air blowing into the balloon. The students enjoyed glancing at each other’s efforts, competing to see who could blow their balloon the largest within the eight beats of blowing. Any student who blew her balloon to an exceptionally large size would receive enthusiastic gestures (e.g. ‘‘thumbs up’’) from nearby students. Occasionally a balloon would suddenly break loose and sputter across the room, but the offending student would quickly scamper to grab it and hurry back to her place with a rather embarrassed expression. Sometimes a balloon would suddenly pop at some point during this process, and it was the responsibility of the Bucho and Fukubucho to keep a supply of spare balloons on hand and quickly replace any popped balloons. The students seemed to really enjoy this exercise, and it appears to have been helpful. It was particularly evident in the playing among the trombone and tuba sections that the middle school students in this band fully understood the concept of breath support. Futarigumi. Another unusual technique used about twice per week in rehearsals was called futarigumi, which means ‘‘leaning couple’’. Students ‘‘pair up’’ into couples in order to get into position for this exercise. One student kneels, clasps her hands together, turns them outward, and extends and locks her arms, horizontal to the floor. The second student, while holding her own instrument in playing position, leans toward the first student so that her abdomen is

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supported by the first student’s clasped hands. Then, the second student plays through long tones on her instrument, as her abdomen is supported by the first student. Kato Sensei explained, ‘‘It is mostly young girls, so they cannot breathe deeply very well. They need to develop the ability to breathe strongly and deeply, so this [exercise] requires them to expel a massive amount of air. Anyway, the point is for them, through the person next to them, to feel the depth and speed of their breath. Gradually they are able to know how to support more and more air.’’ When asked where the futarigumi technique came from, Kato Sensei explained, ‘‘There is a coach with the Katsushika Band [a professional ensemble near Tokyo] who taught that this is the way they do it in that band.’’ Within this futarigumi position, students perform the same musical drill described above in the category of ‘‘balloon blowing’’, playing the Bb major scale in whole notes (rather than blowing into balloons). Unison melody, at attention. Another technique used often by Kato Sensei was to have students with unison melody parts stand and face each other while playing through them. This seemed especially useful when the melody was played by instrumental sections that were on opposite ends of the band, or when the orchestration of a piece placed the unison line in a wide spread of octaves. Kato Sensei had students do this both with and without the accompaniment parts during the rehearsals of several pieces. In such instances, she encouraged the band members to focus on intonation and expressive phrasing of the melody. This chapter has discussed Japanese pedagogical traditions and demonstrated one band director’s approach to rehearsals as well as some special techniques commonly encountered in Japanese school bands. The next chapter will describe the penultimate event of the school year for these bands, the annual All-Japan Band Association national competition.

Notes 1. Morrison (2001) demonstrates this phenomenon in an American context. 2. Gerald Groemer deserves credit for first suggesting this comparison to me in a conversation many years ago in his office at Yamanashi University. 3. Examples include Campbell (1991), Trimillos (1983) and Trimillos (1989). 4. See Groemer (1997), p. 272. 5. See Trimillos (1989), p. 39. 6. See Trimillos (1989), p. 39. 7. See Gutzwiller (1974), p. 155. 8. Gagne (1985) provides one of the most comprehensive and influential theories of instruction. 9. See Malm (1986), p. 24. Koji Matsunobu’s research has identified key characteristics of Japanese spirituality of relevance to music learning, including ‘‘(a) an insignificance of human existence in contrast with the natural environment; (b) a feeling of awe toward nature; (c) a connectedness with ancestors; (d) a reference to individuals’ inner strength;

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10. 11. 12.

13.

14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22.

23. 24.

25. 26.

5 Instruction in the Japanese School Band and (e) a sense of absolute power without reference to a particular religion’’ (Matsunobu, 2007, 1425). See Malm (1959), p. 172. See Halliwell (1994), p. 22. These points are also mentioned later in Halliwell’s article (Halliwell, 1994, p. 49). I incorporate the essential features of Halliwell’s points along with those of the preceding authors to develop my list of 11 points on the next page of the book. Such themes encompass rehearsal pacing, conducting gestures, rehearsal atmosphere, characteristics of instructor feedback (negative/positive, verbal/non-verbal, etc.), characteristics of modeling behaviors, use of eye-contact, and sequential patterns of instruction. For detailed discussion of previous research in these areas, see Duke (1999/2000) as well as chapters in the New Handbook of Research on Music Teaching and Learning (Colwell & Richardson, 2002) and Science and Psychology of Music Performance (Parncutt & McPherson, 2002). See Price (1992) for a description of sequential patterns of instruction. Steven Morrison deserves credit for helping greatly to clarify my understanding of this model. This description is taken from a standard American reference work (Humphreys, May, & Nelson, 1992, p. 662). See Barber (2003), p. 26. Rohlen and LeTendre (1998) discuss this issue in greater detail. See Trimillos (1989). See Howard (1991) for an extensive philosophical treatment of this issue. Common gestures have been analysed in previous research (Neill, 1991). Robert Duke has produced a number of important studies related to this issue and recent findings have enabled him to further refine his position (Duke & Henninger, 2002). Morrison (2002) has provided an especially useful overview of this topic. He explored the subject further in a co-authored study, which produced mixed results (Morrison, Montemayor, & Wiltshire, 2004). Further research is needed in this area. Howard Gardner (1991) discussed similar issues in his insightful book on learning in China. Some of these descriptions have been included in a previous publication along with other specific suggestions regarding what foreign conductors can learn from music teaching and learning in Japanese school bands (Hebert, 2008). According to Steven Morrison, upon reading of this exercise in my dissertation it was tried with great success in Seattle Public Schools. I find this to be a useful term (attributed to Edwin Gordon) for describing the process of imagining a pitch in one’s mind.

References Barber, C. F. (2003). Conductors in rehearsal. In J. A. Bowen (Ed.), The Cambridge companion to conducting (pp. 17–27). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Campbell, P. S. (1991). Lessons from the world: A cross-cultural guide to music teaching and learning. New York: Schirmer Books. Colwell, R., & Richardson, C. (Eds.). (2002). New handbook of research on music teaching and learning. New York: Oxford University Press. Duke, R. A. (1999/2000). Measures of instructional effectiveness in music research. Bulletin of the Council for Research in Music Education, 143, 1–48. Duke, R. A., & Henninger, J. C. (2002). Teachers’ verbal corrections and observers’ perceptions of teaching and learning. Journal of Research in Music Education, 50(1), 75–87. Gagne, R. M. (1985). The conditions of learning and theory of instruction. Fort Worth: Holt, Rinehart and Winston.

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Gardner, H. E. (1991). To open minds. New York: Basic Books. Groemer, G. (1997). Translator’s introduction. In M. Nishiyama (Ed.), Edo culture: Daily life and diversions in urban Japan, 1600–1868. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. Gutzwiller, A. (1974). Shakuhachi: Aspects of history, practice, and teaching. Doctoral dissertation, Wesleyan University (AAT 7423023). Halliwell, P. (1994). Learning the koto. Canadian University Music Review, 14, 18–48. Hebert, D. G. (2008). Lessons from Japanese wind bands. National Band Association Journal, 49(2), 25–28. Howard, V. A. (1991). And practice drives me mad; or, the drudgery of drill. Harvard Educational Review, 61(1), 80–87. Humphreys, J. T., May, W. V., & Nelson, D. J. (1992). Research on music ensembles. In R. Colwell (Ed.), Handbook of research on music teaching and learning (pp. 651–668). New York: Schirmer Books. Malm, W. P. (1959). Japanese music and musical instruments. Rutland, VT: Charles E. Tuttle, Co. Malm, W. P. (1986). Six hidden views of Japanese music. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press. Matsunobu, K. (2007). Japanese spirituality and music practice: Art as self-cultivation. In L. Bresler (Ed.), International handbook of research in arts education (pp. 1425–1438). New York: Springer. Morrison, S. J. (2001). The school ensemble: A culture of our own. Music Educators Journal, 88, 24–28. Morrison, S. J. (2002). The use of recorded models in the instrumental rehearsal: Effects on ensemble achievement. Update: Applications of Research in Music Education, 20(2), 21–26. Morrison, S. J., Montemayor, M., & Wiltshire, E. S. (2004). The effect of a recorded model on band students’ performance self-evaluations, achievement, and attitude. Journal of Research in Music Education, 52(2), 116–129. Neill, S. (1991). Classroom nonverbal communication. London: Routledge. Parncutt, R., & McPherson, G. (Eds.). (2002). Science and psychology of music performance. New York: Oxford University Press. Price, H. E. (1992). Sequential patterns of music instruction and learning to use them. Journal of Research in Music Education, 40(1), 14–29. Rohlen, T., & LeTendre, G. (1998). Conclusion: Themes in the Japanese culture of learning. In T. Rohlen & G. LeTendre (Eds.), Teaching and learning in Japan (pp. 369–376). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Trimillos, R. (1983). The formalized transmission of culture: Selectivity in traditional teaching/learning systems in four high skill music traditions. East-West Culture Learning Institute Report, 9(1/2), 1–9. Trimillos, R. D. (1989). Halau, hochschule, maystro, and ryu: Cultural approaches to music learning and teaching. International Journal of Music Education, 14, 32–43.

Chapter 6

Scenes from the 50th AJBA National Band Competition

岡目八目 Oka me hachi moku ‘‘Onlookers see much of the game’’ – (much, but not all)

The All-Japan Band Association (AJBA) annual national competition serves as the penultimate event in the world of Japanese bands, and is credited with providing the primary motivation for outstanding musical achievement. Western band directors’ descriptions of the ‘‘amazing’’ performances of Japanese school bands tend to be based on observations at the final stage (national level) of this enormous competition. This chapter provides the first detailed Englishlanguage description of this important event.

6.1 Fumon Hall Since the 1970s, the All-Japan Band Association competition has held its Tokyo-based events in Fumon Hall, an enormous auditorium owned by the Rissho Kosei-kai religious organization. The hall is located in Nakano (central Tokyo) within the Rissho-Kosei-kai headquarters. Nearby are the religious organization’s own hospital, school buildings, a mausoleum, and various arcane temple structures. Fumon Hall is an unusual design, an off-white (almost pinkish) polygon-shaped structure that towers above its surroundings. Upon showing an event ticket to the guards, one is free to enter the hall. The lobby interior colors consist of earthen tones, much like a traditional Japanese temple: brownish and greenish shades, occasionally accented by gold ornamentation. The hall is crowded, like the rest of Tokyo, and tobacco smoke fills the air. Children in school uniforms wander by, as well as middle-aged adults who appear to be friends and family of the performers, and occasionally an officiallooking person in a suit and AJBA nametag. Most of the middle-aged visitors are dressed formally (men in suits, and women in dresses), which serves as an indication of the prestige attributed to this event.

D.G. Hebert, Wind Bands and Cultural Identity in Japanese Schools, 125 Landscapes: the Arts, Aesthetics, and Education 9, DOI 10.1007/978-94-007-2178-4_6, Ó Springer ScienceþBusiness Media B.V. 2012

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Climbing the stairs to the second floor of the performance hall, one finds strong evidence of the religious associations of this building. A statue of Kannon (Buddhist goddess of mercy) stands two meters tall, towering above the stairwell. She offers a lotus blossom and a vague smile to her visitors. Throughout the lobby are booths where visitors may purchase program guides, videotapes and CD recordings of band performances, soft drinks and snacks. At the final stage of this competition there are no women conductors, yet a female guide becomes the omnipresent companion of all visitors, as a formal young woman’s voice introduces each performing groups through an extensive speaker system that is audible everywhere throughout the building – even the restrooms – allowing audiences to keep track of what is occurring on stage at all times. During this final stage of the 50th AJBA national school band competition there are also about twenty American band directors at Fumon Hall who came together as part of a special tour to experience the legendary phenomenon of Japanese school bands. Most of these directors are from the South and Southwest, and include the current and former presidents of the Texas Band Association, the Arkansas Band Association, and band directors from universities in Florida, Oregon, and various other states. These band directors huddle close to each other and discuss the Japanese bands softly in English, seemingly awestruck by the scene. There is good reason to be excited, for they are attending the final stage of what is probably the largest band competition in recorded history, and the performances are truly astonishing. Walking past a uniformed guard and through heavy sets of double doors, one enters the inner sanctuary of this auditorium, which seats over 5,000 people. The stage is remarkably large, and easily accommodates the 50-member bands. Across the center of the stage is an enormous blue banner with white characters that declare this to be the 50th AJBA competition. To the left of the stage is hung a blue flag with a white trumpet motif and, in Japanese, ‘‘The All-Japan Band Association’’. This trumpet symbol serves as the official logo of the AJBA, and is printed on their pamphlets and concert programs. To the right of the stage is a red banner that consists of one corner of the World War II-era Japanese flag, above which is written the characters for ‘‘Asahi Shinbun’’ (Rising Sun Newspaper). Since the inception of this competition, Asahi Shinbun has served as its sponsor.1 The roof and walls of the hall also convey Buddhist motifs. The arrangements of lights in clusters on the roof suggest the shape of lotus root segments alternating on a background of golden breast-like protrusions that are also commonly found along the roof edges of Japanese Buddhist temples. On the walls of each side of the stage is a layer of wavy glass segments that are screwed onto the top of a metal lattice-work. Affixed to this backdrop are lights that resemble green lotus blossoms. They project light backward (toward the wall), which allows rays to be reflected on the wavy glass, producing an effect that resembles lotus blossoms floating on water. Such images clearly bring a deep symbolic meaning to this space through the use of Buddhist icons.

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When Fumon Hall first opened its doors in 1970, Rissho Kosei-kai President Nikkyo Niwano declared: The construction of Fumon Hall embodies one of our activities of social service for the people. By the completion of this Hall, we also aim at promoting cultural progress which is important for society. . . the Hall will be often used by the members of Rissho Kosei-kai in their missionary work. But as shown in the name of the Hall, ‘‘Fumon’’ (The Open Door), I hope that it will be widely open to the general public and will be frequently utilized to a large extent when meaningful cultural meetings are held there. We should appreciate it very much if we could contribute our share to society in such useful gatherings for the uplifting of the people’s sentiments through concerts, plays, lectures and other cultural functions.2

Indeed, the hall has contributed significantly to cultural life in Japan, and has brought increased visibility to Niwano’s religious organization. Fumon Hall has served as the primary performance and recording venue for the Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra, Japan’s most influential wind band.3 The Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra’s offices are also located on the Rissho Kosei-kai campus, just a few blocks from the hall, and the religious organization also houses the publishing office that produces CD recordings and prints music books and other materials associated with the renowned wind band. Some Japanese band directors make frequent reference to a ‘‘Fumonkan sound’’, claiming that the aesthetic of Japanese bands has been influenced by the acoustic qualities of this hall.4 Experienced performers familiar with the Fumon Hall stage recognize that the bright sounds of percussion and brass parts from the back row of a wind ensemble with standard instrumentation tend to project directly toward the stage microphones and balcony (where the contest adjudicators are seated). Some bands adjust their balance to accommodate for such acoustic factors, while others produce an excessively bright ‘‘Fumonkan sound’’. Those that make the necessary adjustments often conclude with a balance that is excessively dark in most other acoustic environments. Even the tone quality of student instrumentalists who have modeled their own sounds after Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra recordings made in the Fumon Hall may have been affected by the ‘‘Fumonkan sound’’. It is a remarkable privilege to perform on the stage of Fumon Hall at the final (national) stage of the 50th AJBA competition. The 29 middle school bands participating in the final event represent the top 1.39% of middle school bands in all of Japan. As of May 1, 2000, there were 11,209 middle schools in Japan, serving a total of 4,104,000 students.5 Most of these schools support a band, and nearly all of these 6,719 Japanese middle school bands participate in the All-Japan Band Association (AJBA) competition system. The competition also includes other divisions: high school, university, company, and community bands, for a grand total of 13,595 ensembles, or approximately 500,000 contestants!6 According to AJBA figures, by 2007, the number of registered wind bands in Japan had exceeded 14,000, and with an average band size of at least 50 members, the total exceeds 700,000 contestants in a single year (Fig. 6.1).

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6 Scenes from the 50th AJBA National Band Competition Junior Total Regional Grade High College/University Company Community by High Division School School School Region Hokkaido 117 373 226 24 7 115 862 Tohoku 256 742 397 34 12 194 1,635 E.Kanto 221 1,026 525 29 12 227 2,040 W.Kanto 45 775 336 27 5 149 1,337 Tokyo 34 583 274 29 14 113 1,047 Hokuriku 23 210 119 16 2 69 439 Tokai 96 846 502 27 13 188 1,672 Kansai 62 934 531 47 11 337 1,925 Chukoku 76 538 295 39 6 111 1,065 Shikoku 17 254 126 10 2 54 463 Kyushu 132 774 450 44 14 222 1,636 National 1,079 7,058 3,781 326 98 1,779 14,121 Totals

Fig. 6.1 Number of wind bands in Japan by category, 2007

6.2 AJBA Rules At the AJBA national band competition, participants and guests may obtain detailed information concerning the AJBA from free pamphlets and brochures. From these materials, one learns of the AJBA band membership requirements (Fig. 6.2) and responsibilities (Fig. 6.3), as well as the guidelines for contest adjudicators (Fig. 6.4), each of which has been translated for this research. Compared with the policies of similar organizations, the most interesting feature of the membership requirements seems to be that professionals and bands associated with music schools are not permitted to participate (Fig. 6.2). The member responsibilities are standard for such organizations (Fig. 6.3), but an unusual feature of the contest adjudication procedures is the institutionalized negotiation between a panel of judges and the Board of Directors, arranged through the role of Chairman (Fig. 6.4).

1) All members must be participants in a wind band. 2) The band must be rehearsing and performing throughout the year. 3) Conservatory students are permitted to participate as members of bands in the “Community Band” division. 4) Generally, one may participate in more than one band, but the rules of particular contests may overrule in some cases. 5) Members cannot be paid for performances and still qualify for amateur status. 6) Music school-affiliated students may not participate in any school band divisions.

Fig. 6.2 AJBA membership requirements

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1) Pay required fees for all new members upon admittance. 2) Pay ensemble fees by May deadline. 3) Inform AJBA 1 month in advance of change in mailing address or membership status. 4) Participate in AJBA meetings.

Fig. 6.3 Responsibilities of AJBA member bands

No. 1) Judgment and implementation based upon these by-laws is stipulated by article number 19 of the All Japan Band Competitions’ operational guidelines. No. 2) Adjudicators will evaluate the required and chosen pieces separately, awarding one of five possible grades in both categories of technique and expression. No. 3) Treatment of the results: The Chairman of the Board of Directors will be entrusted with requesting scores of the adjudication committee for delivery to the Board. No. 4) Based upon the evaluation of the adjudication committee, the Board will divide scores into three groups using the rankings of gold, silver, and bronze. In exceptional cases, an approximate ratio of 30% (gold), 40% (silver), and 30% (bronze) will be considered. No. 5) Following the above procedure, the Chairman will obtain approval from the adjudication committee and make the final decision. No. 6) A list of the final adjudication scores of participating ensembles will be announced in the organization’s bulletin. No. 7) These by-laws may be amended according to committee judgment.

Fig. 6.4 Adjudication by-laws for the AJBA band competition

The names of AJBA competition judges are printed on the contest programs, and consist of the leading instrumentalists of Japan’s band world, including section leaders and conductors from professional symphony orchestras, military bands, and most prominently, the Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra. The first stage of the competition occurs at the local (or municipal) level, and only bands that receive a gold prize at this initial stage are able to proceed to the regional level of competition. Likewise, only bands that receive top scores at the regional level qualify for the national competition. A total of 345 middle school bands participated in the Tokyo metropolitan middle school band competition on July 30 and 31. At this level, bands were classified by size: Class A with up to 50 members, B with up to 40, and C with up to 30 members. Bands with more than 50 players are required to thin their ranks for performance at the competition. The adjudication sheet for this stage of the AJBA competition was rather simple, consisting of a single small sheet of paper, 8.5 by 5.5 inches in size. Judges fill out nine spaces on the form (Fig. 6.5). To begin, adjudicators write the band classification according to the size of its membership. Next, they write the ensemble identification number, presumably arranged by order of performance. Adjudicators circle an overall score for each of the two pieces performed (required piece and free piece), ranging in six

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6 Scenes from the 50th AJBA National Band Competition Band Class (kumi): Ensemble ID number: Required piece overall score: Free piece overall score: Technique (gijutsu):

A A A

B B B

C C

C D D

E E

F F

Expression (hyogen):

Advice (kanso):

Adjudicator name: Ensemble name:

Fig. 6.5 AJBA contest adjudicator form

grades, from A to F. There are small spaces to write a few words regarding technique and expression, and another slightly larger space in which to share any general words of advice. The final spaces are reserved for the adjudicator’s name and the name of the ensemble.

6.3 Local Understandings of the AJBA Competition There appears to be only one Japanese language book on the annual All-Japan Band Association national contest, which was only recently published in two volumes in 2007 and 2008.7 This would appear to suggest that many Japanese musicians have not (until very recently) recognized the global significance of the sheer size and quality of performances associated with this unique contest. Indeed, interviews and discussions with influential Japanese band directors enabled confirmation of the numbers of bands and contestants, yet there appeared to be no recognition in Japan that this is surely among the largest music contests in the world, and at times even denial that such a feat could be possible with Japanese bands. Interestingly, according to the aforementioned book, the number of contestants is believed to be ‘‘between 700,000 and 1,120,000,’’ and the authors also acknowledge, ‘‘We can be certain that more than 1 million are currently playing in wind bands, and that the number of former wind band participants is enormous in Japan.’’ The book is called Ichi On Nyu Kon! Zen Nihon Suisougaku Konkuru Meikyoku Meien 50, and its title may be translated as ‘‘Put spirit into one sound – All-Japan Band Association competition: renowned pieces, renowned performances’’. This title offers a humorous twist on a well-known phrase mentioned earlier that is popular among Zen shakuhachi players, ichi on jobutsu – meaning ‘‘enlightenment from a single tone’’. Its authors offer some helpful context for these enormous numbers by suggesting that, ‘‘For comparison, we should note that there are currently only around 170,000 boys participating in school baseball clubs,’’ and

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they assert that the AJBA contest has become the ‘‘mecca’’ of wind bands, with ‘‘20,000 observers at the Fumon Hall national level event.’’8 Now that the background of this competition has been described, it is time to examine the lived experience of actual band participants, as they earnestly prepare their performance for the enormous public spectacle of this event and the stringent ears of its adjudicators. The perceptions of band members participating in the AJBA competition will be the theme of Chapter 7.

Notes 1. Recall the historical discussion of the AJBA national band competition’s early development from Chapter 2. 2. This description of Nikkyo Niwano’s speech was written in English on a pamphlet from the hall’s grand opening concert: ‘‘Fumon Hall: The Open Door’’ (unpublished document, c. 1970, obtained from Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra archives). 3. See Hebert (2001), pp. 212–226. 4. This data is from discussions with various Japanese wind band directors. See Hebert (2005), pp. 122–128. 5. See Foreign Press Center/Japan (2001), p. 13. 6. Statistics taken from various All Japan Band Association documents and confirmed through an interview with the organization’s Director on April 15, 2003. Since the average Japanese wind band has around 50 members, the total national figure in 2010 appears to be well over 500,000 contestants on any given year, perhaps around 700,000. 7. See Togashi, Ishimoto, and Bandou (2007, 2008). 8. See Togashi et al. (2007), p. 8.

References Foreign Press Center/Japan. (2001). Education in Japan (About Japan Series). Tokyo: Foreign Press Center/Japan. Hebert, D. G. (2001). The Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra: A case study of intercultural music transmission. Journal of Research in Music Education, 49(3), 212–226. Hebert, D. G. (2005). Music competition, cooperation and community: An ethnography of a Japanese school band. PhD dissertation, University of Washington. Togashi, T., Ishimoto, K., & Bandou, R. (2007). Ichi on nyu kon! Zen Nihon Suisougaku Konkuru meikyoku meien 50 [Heart and soul in a single tone!: 50th anniversary of the all Japan wind band contest]. Tokyo: Kawade Shobo Shinsha. Togashi, T., Ishimoto, K., & Bandou, R. (2008). Ichi on nyu kon! Zen Nihon Suisougaku Konkuru meikyoku meien 50, Part 2 [Heart and soul in a single tone!: 50th anniversary of the all Japan wind band contest, Part 2]. Tokyo: Kawade Shobo Shinsha.

Chapter 7

Winning in Band: Views from Beneath and Within

勝てば官軍 Kateba kangun ‘‘Losers are always in the wrong’’

7.1 Going for Gold It is now mid-July, and the Ishikawa Middle School band is engaged in intense preparation for the first (local) stage of the AJBA competition. Conveniently, there is a period of school vacation in the weeks prior to the event, yet the band schedule is more time-consuming than at any other point during the year. In fact, during the 2 weeks leading up to the competition, the band rehearses from 9 A.M. to 6 P.M. on most days, and the total rehearsal time during this period exceeds 72 h! The band rehearses – and rehearses – two compositions: ‘‘ ‘Rapsodia’ for Band’’ by Tadashi Adachi (a required piece), and an arrangement of themes from Tchaikovsky’s ‘‘Swan Lake’’ (their showcase piece).1 By this point in time, the precise way of playing every note of these two pieces has been fully committed to memory by each young band member. They describe it as ‘‘yubi de oboeta’’ (remembered by the fingers), meaning the ability to play precisely without conscious effort. Kato Sensei conducts the ensemble with a fierce intensity. The band members focus intently on her gestures, swaying in time with their peers, attuned to the sounds enveloping the ensemble, only occasionally glancing down at the printed page. Yet, the purpose of these darting glances is no longer to read notations from the original sheet music, but to view the collage of multi-colored jottings they have scrawled across their pages through over 6 months of devoted study, reflections that describe the feelings of each moment in time within the musical performance. The band and Kato Sensei seem connected within this intense space of passing seconds, firing synapses, and the reverberations of precise physical movements. As the students describe it, the music has become theirs. Indeed, the sound is impressive and seems to express an aesthetic maturity that is uncanny, considering its context: a public middle school in urban Japan. Students have written ‘‘gold’’ everywhere in the band room: on the chalk boards, on papers taped to the wall, on music folders, and in enormous D.G. Hebert, Wind Bands and Cultural Identity in Japanese Schools, 133 Landscapes: the Arts, Aesthetics, and Education 9, DOI 10.1007/978-94-007-2178-4_7, Ó Springer ScienceþBusiness Media B.V. 2012

134 Fig. 7.1 ‘‘Gold’’ written in the band room

7 Winning in Band: Views from Beneath and Within 1) 2) 3)

GOLD!

lettering – with metallic gold markers and the fluorescent ink of highlighter pens – across the entire length of students’ individual music parts. ‘‘Gold’’ is written in myriad ways, sometimes using two or more languages. In English, it is written with large capital letters, underlined and punctuated with one or more exclamation points. In modern Japanese, ‘‘gorudo’’ is written with phonetic katakana characters. And finally, the traditional term for ‘‘gold medal’’ is transcribed in kanji pictographs, the ancient writing system originally imported from China (Fig. 7.1). When asked to clarify the significance of gold, Ishikawa Middle School band members explained it as the prized award they were determined to receive at the contest. Clearly, a tangible goal had been set by the group, and it was understood that attainment of ‘‘gold’’ would make all of their effort worthwhile.

7.2 Silver Equals Failure The AJBA competition is an intense event, as most student bands have devoted hundreds of hours of effort toward a single important performance that barely spans 10 min. While there is certainly much excitement surrounding these performances, by far the most intense moment is the awards announcement that concludes the competition. The curtain is pulled, and a few student representatives – usually three from each band – stand bravely at attention facing the audience in neat rows to receive their verdict. Since they are placed in rows, student representatives from the same band are unable to see each other’s expressions. Often at least one of these representatives is a male student, even if he is among very few boys in the entire ensemble. Several men in suits, band association leaders, also stand on the stage: one next to a microphone and the other next to a table upon which several plaques are placed. The name of each school is called and a student representative steps forward to receive a plaque. Murmuring is heard through the audience, as spectators strain to obtain a clear view of the announcer and students on stage in these intense final seconds. The band association leader nearest to the table carefully hands the plaque to each student with a deliberate gesture and bow. It is clear from the weighty gesture that the plaque is to be perceived as an object of great value. The student grips it formally, with both hands, and bows earnestly in response. At this point the other band association leader announces the verdict into the microphone: ‘‘Gin shou’’ (silver), or ‘‘Do shou’’ (bronze). Occasionally, the speaker seems to pause in dramatic silence after naming the band, and then announces in an especially loud voice, ‘‘Gorudo!’’ (Gold!).

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In the split second following each announcement, both ecstatic cheers and agonizing moans can be heard from various corners of the hall. Regardless of the results, the student representatives on the stage bravely accept their plaques with identical gestures and return to their previous positions on stage in a dignified manner. There they stand again at attention, facing the audience, holding the plaque firmly in both hands. The expressions of these student representatives are stoic, determined to avoid conveying any disappointment. Yet, in many cases, tears begin to stream down. As more tears fall, those holding the precious plaques try to subtly wipe them off with a brisk forearm gesture, but still the tears keep streaming. Upon leaving the hall, cheers can still be heard from the winning ensembles, but many students continue to sob bitterly in their disappointment. The Ishikawa Middle School band gave an outstanding performance at the first (local) stage of the competition in Fumon Hall. A resounding applause had followed their final note, and students and audience members seemed pleased with the performance. However, like the majority of the 345 participating middle school bands, when the final verdict was given, their achievement did not attain the highest possible score from the adjudicators. On the day after the competition, I visited Ishikawa Middle School and asked band members what they thought of the experience. Several merely replied ‘‘Silver,’’ in a morose tone. When I mentioned having seen a few students cry, they confirmed that ‘‘We all cried.’’ I asked the middle school band members to explain the source of their belief that a silver award signifies failure. One young clarinetist most clearly stated, ‘‘From the Sempai. But, from ourselves too – to have practiced so terribly hard and then not get it. It is very sad.’’ During the week immediately following the competition (August 1 to 7), the Ishikawa Middle School band met for only two rehearsals, and during this period a sense of disappointment hung heavy in the band room. The jokes and smiles that had seemed to be permanent fixtures of the band room had mostly disappeared. The intense energy and focus that developed during the final weeks of preparation for the competition had disintegrated into an all-time low. Particularly within paatore (sectional rehearsals), students spent less time playing through their music, and more time in quiet discussion. As the year passed, I continued asking students to describe what they like and dislike about the band competitions. One explained, ‘‘Last year at the national competition I was so happy to get gold, but this year we got silver, so I was very sad.’’ Another replied, ‘‘What I like is kyoryoku [cooperating] with everyone to do something impressive together. The thing I really hate is when the results [from the judges] are not what we wanted.’’ Another explained that she liked ‘‘To decide on a single goal and practice hard, become good at a difficult piece, and then perform well. It is really awesome fun. We can make many kinds of great memories, and have a good time too. But the thing I hate is like this year when we got a lower prize. I really hate that.’’ According to one student, ‘‘Other schools got a gold prize with not-so-good performances, and that was mortifying [kuyashi] – we all talked about it.’’ And another explained that ‘‘This year everyone really improved to a high level, so we certainly were

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determined that we must get a gold prize. We had to go the national level, so the silver prize was, ‘aack!’ ’’ [She made a frustrated sound]. According to one of the students, the competition experience as a whole was excellent, but the difficult part was how strict their director became in the series of intense rehearsals leading up to the competition. She explained that ‘‘When you prepare the stage it is dark and you can hear murmuring voices of many people. Then suddenly, the curtain opens and – oh! There are so many people there!’’ And in the middle of all of that, I am full of this happy feeling while performing. And in the middle of that, all the time spent practicing becomes clear as you try to do your number one performance, your very best. In each of the various schools everyone has tried their best to become number one. I like that. [She pauses for a while and then her voice gets softer] But, what I don’t like is that when we are in the middle of rehearsing for the competition Sensei is SCARY! [Here we both chuckled, as her voice sounded so melodramatic]. She insisted, ‘‘Really, it is scary.’’ Clearly, some students sensed extra pressure from Kato Sensei to rehearse earnestly in preparation for the competition. Indeed, higher levels of teaching intensity prior to major performances were also acknowledged in fieldnotes and videotaped observations.

7.3 A Pastiche of Remembrance In December of 2002, just as students were departing from school to visit their extended family for the New Year vacation, Japan’s popular Band Journal released a special issue to re-cap the results from the AJBA competition that year. Many photographs from the final stage of the 50th AJBA competition were included. The collection of images contained formed a pastiche that sheds light on this fascinating microcosm. Included are photos of the inside and outside of Fumon Hall, an image of the rows of representatives from each band anxiously awaiting the awards announcement, the nervous faces of directors awaiting their results and of band members fervently praying, numerous images of ecstatic school children from the winning schools, and even of a successful director being ceremoniously tossed into the air by several of his peers. There are also small photos of each of the bands. Each student who participated is able to find his or her own ant-sized image (e.g. behind the second-chair, third clarinet player and stage-left of the marimba) in the pages of Japan’s leading magazine for bands. The All-Japan Band Association competition embodies an organized system of competition within the world of Japanese bands, yet other forms of competition also pervade the atmosphere of these ensembles.

7.4 The Rival Drummers In addition to the obvious spectacle of the AJBA national band competition, the theme of competition also appeared more subtly in the form of rivalry between players of the same instrument (intra-sectional competition) in the Ishikawa

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Middle School band. Prior to starting the fieldwork observations I had identified rivalry of student musicians as a topic of interest, and generated interview questions with which to explore this area. I had reasoned that examination of this topic would be a useful way of developing an understanding of the nature of peer relationships within the Japanese band. What I actually encountered was an ongoing struggle within the ensemble, with participants on both sides willing to share details of their conflict with me. The clearest example of rivalry in the Japanese school band occurred between two members of the percussion section, evident from both observations and interviews. During sectional rehearsals, Dana and Kyoko competed not only to play their parts with the greatest accuracy, but to see who could play the fastest and loudest. Unfriendly glances were often exchanged during rehearsals, and a willingness to blame each other for any shortcomings in the performance of their section was quite evident. At issue between Dana and Kyoko was the fact that both were determined to be ‘‘number one’’ in the percussion section. Both students were interviewed. When Dana, a second-year percussionist, was asked whether there is any rivalry in her section, she replied, ‘‘Oh yes, always.’’ She explained that this rivalry was most noticeable ‘‘When we choose the instrument parts. I practice for many hours, so there is rivalry because of the gap that makes between us.’’ As to what causes this rivalry, she replied, ‘‘It’s not that I dislike that person, but I just really don’t want to lose to her.’’ Alfie Kohn observed that ‘‘competition entails a kind of perverse interdependence: our fates are linked in that I cannot succeed unless you fail.’’2 Dana had interpreted musical achievement to be a contest in which there are winners and losers, concluding that one must strive to be the very best. This view might seem unnecessarily competitive, however, it is also commonly encountered in the professional music scene, in the ‘‘real world’’ beyond the walls of Japanese schools. In her study of popular musicians, Christine Yano observed that ‘‘Ranking and hierarchy in fact structure the entire music industry in Japan.’’3 Kyoko, the rival of Dana, was also a second-year percussionist. As dokyusei (students of the same grade), these students were not automatically situated in a joheikankei relationship. Neither had seniority, hence rivalry was fierce. When asked if she had experienced any difficulties in band, Kyoko replied, ‘‘We have to try to get along with people we don’t like, so that can be quite a challenge.’’ And when asked specifically about rivalry, and she explained, ‘‘I am a percussionist, so especially because we must choose instruments, the rivalry can be so much that we have to hold auditions.’’ For Kyoko as well, competition was a significant issue not only at the official contests but within her own section. This rivalry was observable in most percussion sectional rehearsals, where the two students clearly competed in their drills. Each one took turns playing along with a metronome through exercises that featured complex rhythms, rolls, paradiddles and other techniques. As each percussionist finished her turn, the other would grab the metronome, turn it up a notch to a slightly faster tempo, make a taunting face toward her rival, and then take another turn playing even faster through the drill, from beginning to end. Such rivalries also appear to be

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common in the school ensembles of other nations, but there is yet little research regarding how this phenomenon develops and what may be done about it.

7.5 Saxes Against the Rest In addition to intra-sectional rivalry among players of like instruments, intersectional rivalry (between instrumental sections) was also observed in the ensemble. The saxophone section performed especially well, and prided itself as an especially accomplished group within the ensemble, much like the ‘‘first string’’ players on a sports team, or an elite ‘‘special forces’’ unit within a military organization. Several students from other instrumental sections mentioned particular saxophone players as the strongest musicians and most enjoyable personalities within the entire ensemble. Students from other sections also indicated saxophone most often as the instrument they would have chosen for themselves, had they been given the opportunity to do so. Kato Sensei’s choice of repertoire provided saxophone players some important opportunities to perform exposed solo and soli passages. The band’s most expressive playing consistently came from the saxophone section, and toward the end of the school year, saxophonists formed a small chamber ensemble and won a ‘‘Gold’’ prize in the Tokyo small ensemble competition. This event seemed to allow the entire band to ‘‘save face’’ within the school’s community, and was lauded repeatedly as an important honor during the final concert of the year. During an interview with Tomoko, a second year saxophonist, she expressed great pride in the abilities of both the current and incoming saxophone section leaders. Tomoko also assured me that the saxophone section had given its very best performance at the AJBA band competition, and that it was the full band as a whole – not the saxophone section – that had received a silver rating from the adjudicators. Tomoko confirmed, ‘‘Yes, we want saxes to play better than all the other sections [in the band].’’ Although such inter-sectional competition was clearly evident from the side of the saxophonists, it was less recognizable among the other instrumental sections, possibly because the members of other sections saw little chance of competing on par with the saxophonists in this regard. Still, the double reed players (oboe and bassoon) explained themselves by emphasizing that their instruments are the ‘‘most difficult’’, and the trombonists often mentioned that they have the loudest and most ‘‘kakkoii’’ (cool-looking) instruments.

7.6 A Lingering Humiliation It is to be expected that the inability to win first place in a competition will be cause for some disappointment, yet among many Western school bands such disappointment will soon fade into memory as the ensemble moves on to focus on newer challenges. For many ensembles, a silver award would likely be accepted with genuine appreciation as an indication of achievement. However,

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among the Ishikawa Middle School band members, gold was the only acceptable outcome, and the ‘‘failure’’ (which is how the students referred to the silver award) was not easily forgotten. Months after the competition, when asked, ‘‘Are the band members considered good students within your school?’’ a first-year saxophonist replied, ‘‘Last year at the national levels the band got gold, but this year we got silver, so that’s how the club is viewed.’’ The question had merely sought information regarding the academic standing of band members, yet the answer she volunteered confirmed that the stigma of having attained a silver award was a significant factor in determining how the ensemble members were viewed by the rest of the school, long after the competition. Even at the final concert of the year, the band’s inability to receive a top score at the AJBA competition (over 7 months earlier) was repeatedly mentioned within speeches and further reinforced by written text within the concert program. The following excerpts are from a translation of the program from the Ishikawa Middle School band’s 22nd Annual Regular Concert. The first, from page 1, is an introductory welcoming paragraph from Kato Sensei: This year we were unable to obtain the same results at the national competition level as we did in the previous year, however at [local concerts] our performance was very well received. It is impressive how the band members developed, sharing a single spirit. Today’s concert will be the final one for several graduating third year students who contributed much power and attractiveness to the group. I think in these three years, through their earnestness, they became the kind of people we hoped would become high school students.

In this paragraph, Kato Sensei acknowledged that the ensemble did not receive the score it had hoped for within the competitions. She then moved on to mention that despite this disappointment some positive things were achieved. On page 2, the welcoming introduction by the Bucho is quite similar: Today, in the middle of your busy schedules, thank you for having come to our annual concert. This year, as always, we have devoted ourselves fully to the band rehearsals. Unfortunately, we were unable to obtain as high of ratings as last year, however we were satisfied with our accomplishments. We would like to sincerely thank the great variety of people who have supported us in various ways: teachers, and others. Our goal continues to be ‘We must strive to do better than last year’, and we will move forward with this objective, in both partnership and enjoyment, within all aspects of our activities. – The Bucho

While both statements suggest that the band was successful overall this academic year, the very fact that the competition scores are explicitly mentioned indicates that these results are still viewed as relevant indicators of the band’s achievement.

7.7 Learning Through Competition Kato Sensei was asked to consider the positive and negative aspects of the AJBA band competition system. She felt that the competition was useful as a means by which to motivate students for higher levels of achievement, but that it also presented some problems. For example, she remarked that ‘‘the band must play a ‘konkuruteki’ (competitionesque) piece.’’ She continued, ‘‘well, not certain other

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kinds of genres,’’ inferring that there was a standard repertoire considered appropriate for the competitions. Kato Sensei explained, ‘‘And then among the judges there is a ranking system, which I think may be misguided. From five judges, to hope for gold or silver, well, I think this can be destructive for the students. The sound of each year’s band changes with new members, and how do we obtain the sound we desire? How are judges to know about the long-term learning process, and how can we show them that when all they see is the brief stage performance? For example, last year our brass section earned a gold medal. This year they did not, but they are actually much finer this year. So this can be complicated. So, when you think about that, it changes one’s sense of the importance of the competition within the full academic year of band. If you cannot see it that way, you will only want to obtain the result, a gold medal.’’ From this explanation it was clear that, despite the aforementioned emphasis on winning gold among the band members, the director recognized (at least in theory) that the competition was of only limited usefulness to students in terms of educational objectives. Kato Sensei also observed that ‘‘Within a full year of band activities, the improvements made from intense preparation for the competition enable more to be achieved.’’ From this statement, it was clear that she recognized the value of the competition primarily in terms of its utility as a motivational tool that would raise the band to a high level that could then be sustained throughout the year. Most band members also seemed to view preparation for the competition positively, but indicated that it is difficult to balance the responsibilities of academic work with long hours of band rehearsal. According to a first year saxophonist, ‘‘Before the competition when we are practicing so much, we practiced until very late at night, and afterward I was too tired to study. I remember that was a really terrible time.’’ When asked if it was ever difficult to balance her time between the demands of band rehearsals and academic work, another student replied, ‘‘Yes, whenever I have a test, or before the competitions, like when I was a first year student I actually studied inside of the bullet train on the way to the band competition.’’ Most band members responded similarly. Indeed, Japanese school band rehearsal schedules are remarkably intense, and often particularly strenuous in the weeks just prior to a major competition or concert. According to both discussions and questionnaire results, it is not unusual for Japanese school bands to rehearse over 20 h/week, and in excess of 600 h/year. How is participation in this competition viewed by other band directors? As part of my questionnaire to Tokyo middle school band directors,4 respondents were requested to reply to the question, ‘‘What are some positive and negative aspects of band competitions?’’ Most responded directly to the question by writing both negative and positive features, although one respondent sidestepped it with the reply that ‘‘I used to think the contest was all that mattered, but now I think differently. Certainly, the musical development attained is meaningful in various ways and that at least is good.’’ Among the positive aspects listed, musical improvement was the most popular unifying theme. Freely written responses in this category included the following: ‘‘Artistic development,’’ ‘‘Development of musical art,’’ ‘‘Development of technique,’’

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‘‘Musical quality improves,’’ ‘‘Level [of band performance] increases,’’ and ‘‘Nearing perfection of expression.’’ One band director suggested that the competition may motivate bands for diverse approaches to music education. Namely, ‘‘Band clubs find an objective that produces varieties of musical study.’’ Another respondent indicated that a positive feature of the competition was that ‘‘One can easily understand the level of bands throughout the nation.’’ Motivation and goal-setting were other major themes. One indicated ‘‘Motivation to bring the band level up’’ as a positive feature, and another wrote, ‘‘Obtaining and striving toward a single goal.’’ Still another suggested that the contest provided motivation for teachers, writing that ‘‘Many serious teachers try their best for the competition.’’ A final response was that a ‘‘Boost in esprit de corps’’ was a positive feature of the competition. In terms of negative aspects, most responses fit the category of excessively competitive attitudes: ‘‘Increase of directors thinking that only the competition is important,’’ ‘‘Feeling that only winning a medal is important,’’ ‘‘Attributing supreme importance to the contest,’’ and ‘‘Competitive consciousness.’’ One respondent implied that one effect of the competitions may be minimal coverage of repertoire, writing that ‘‘Some don’t perform anything besides the contest pieces.’’ Another indicated that adjudication can be a problem, writing merely that ‘‘Evaluation is difficult.’’ Another indicated a concern that ‘‘Many dwell on whether one misses rhythms and pitches, rather than on musical expression (they are more interested in finding errors than in viewing an interesting performance).’’ And one particularly stringent respondent replied, ‘‘The grading, quantification, and sports-like guts in music.’’ The responses indicate that even among bandleaders participating in the world’s largest music competition there are ambivalent views regarding its ultimate effects.

Notes 1. The repertoire of Japanese school bands is described in detail in Chapter 9. 2. Alfie Kohn discusses this in his popular book No Contest: The Case Against Competition (Kohn, 1992, p. 138). 3. See Yano (2002) p. 50. 4. A copy of this questionnaire may be found in the Appendix, and discussion of the results is also included in my PhD dissertation (Hebert, 2005, pp. 481–488).

References Hebert, D. G. (2005). Music competition, cooperation and community: An ethnography of a Japanese school band. PhD dissertation, University of Washington. Kohn, A. (1992). No contest: The case against competition. New York: Mariner Books. Yano, C. R. (2002). Tears of longing: Nostalgia and the nation in Japanese popular song. Cambridge, MA: Harvard East Asia Monographs.

Chapter 8

Winning in Band: Views from Above and Beyond

雨降って地固まる Ame futte ji katamaru ‘‘Earth that is rained upon hardens’’ – adversity builds character

8.1 A View from Above: Interview with the AJBA Director The previous chapter provided the ‘‘view from below,’’ that of actual participants in the All-Japan Band Association national competition. It is now useful to consider how the world’s largest music competition is viewed from above, as seen by an executive of the All-Japan Band Association (who will be referred to as its ‘‘Director’’). As part of this study, the AJBA Director was interviewed at the organization’s offices in downtown Tokyo on April 15, 2003. The interview provided new information regarding the association and illustrated the objectives of its leadership. Key points have been extracted as part of this discussion. The office building of the All-Japan Band Association is located in downtown Tokyo, just two blocks away from the Yasukuni Shrine. This is a famous location, as among Japanese nationalists and fundamentalist Shinto believers (typically these groups are one and the same) the Yasukuni Shrine is among the most sacred places in the world. Its symbolic importance is so powerful that several Japanese politicians have made international headlines in recent years by choosing to officially visit, or officially refrain from visiting, the shrine.1 It struck me as interesting that the AJBA headquarters were located a stone’s throw away from such a place. The offices consist of a large upper-level suite in a brown office building, the interior of which is divided into various cubicles. As a foreigner, I thought it would be best to begin the interview by describing my background and the extent of my research thus far on the topic of Japanese bands. The AJBA Director seemed relieved that I spoke Japanese and appeared interested to know more about my band experience, educational background, and experience in Japan. Upon reading from one of the pamphlets that AJBA has various ‘‘International Activities,’’ my curiosity was piqued, so I asked him to describe them. The Director mentioned that they used to have some international projects, and still set up a booth at the Midwest Clinic (in D.G. Hebert, Wind Bands and Cultural Identity in Japanese Schools, 143 Landscapes: the Arts, Aesthetics, and Education 9, DOI 10.1007/978-94-007-2178-4_8, Ó Springer ScienceþBusiness Media B.V. 2012

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Chicago), but assured me that ‘‘Nowadays, we are not very active in the field of international activities.’’ AJBA scope and mission. I sought to confirm the size and scope of the organization, as well as its basic financial status. The Director confirmed that there are around 500,000 participants in the competition. He noted that his department has 5 staff members, and that schoolteachers volunteer their time to the association as well. The annual budget, noted the Director, ‘‘is 300,000,000 yen.’’ At the time, this was nearly 3 million American dollars. He noted that the sources of revenue were mostly from fees for participation in competitions, membership dues, instrumental scores, recordings, and sheet music parts. In seeking to gain a better sense of how the organization’s leaders interpret the history of their own organization, particularly in terms of its objectives, several questions were posed to the Director: ‘‘The founding purpose of the AJBA and its current mission seem to be different. What is different? How has it changed?’’ He paused, and replied, ‘‘Generally, I think it has not changed. The reason why is that the goal is the popularization of wind bands, and that has not changed. Certainly, originally the AJBA was founded during the WW-II era, and at that time it was to make people energetic, well, for the purpose of war.’’ He continued, ‘‘It was for that reason, but after the war, for music, for music education, for the popularization of wind bands, that became the purpose. Although some things have changed, the purpose of development and promotion of bands has not changed.’’ The Director was asked to describe the complex relationships between AJBA and other organizations, particularly those with religious ties. The Director explained that ‘‘the national competition is held in Fumon Hall. And, in order to use that hall we have to ask the Rissho Kosei-kai for permission. Without their approval we cannot use it. Therefore, that is the extent of our relationship. But, then there is also that professional group . . .’’. He was referring to the Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra, which is routinely commissioned to make the authoritative premier CD recordings of the required contest repertoire for each year. Members of this ensemble are also particularly well-represented among the contest adjudicators. When asked whether band performances were considered in the design of Fumon Hall, the Director replied with a ‘‘No.’’ This seemed inconsistent with the description attained from the Manager of the Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra, who had explained how the ensemble had been patronized by the builders of Fumon Hall for decades before it was constructed. The Director explained, ‘‘No, well, you see it was not constructed for concerts. It is for the purpose of religious ceremonies.’’ He assured me that the reason for using Fumon Hall for the competition is that it can hold 5,000 people and ‘‘there is a convenient truck ramp where percussionists and others can unload their heavy instruments.’’ Uniqueness of the AJBA model. A distinguishing feature of the AJBA band competition model from that of other nations is the absence of a sight-reading component. Because the AJBA competition is intended for amateurs, with training centered on ensemble technique rather than overall musicianship, the

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development of sight-reading skills is not considered a priority. The Director asserted that ‘‘the best goal is . . . to practice everyday’’ on the competition repertoire, as this is the sole point and principal focus of the AJBA model. In order to better understand both the future direction envisioned by AJBA, and the source of any European or American models that may have a continuing influence on the organization, the Director was asked whether other genres, such as jazz and Latin music, might ever be included in the competition. He replied that ‘‘We do not consider the broadening of the wind band genre to be a good thing. Up to this point, and into the future, our goal is to promote wind bands and maintain this tradition.’’ When asked whether any Western models had influenced the organization of the AJBA competition, the AJBA Director indicated Texas as the principal source. However, he also commented that wind band ‘‘has become a Japanese thing. It has developed in a Japanese way, I think. Therefore, now it is not really modeled after American bands as I started to say earlier, but rather it has become a Japanese style, I think.’’ Following this statement, the Director was asked to indicate some of the differences between Japanese wind bands and bands in other countries. He explained, ‘‘Well, concerning the level of bands, Japanese bands are extremely strong from the elementary through middle school and high school levels, I think. But then after that, as they become adults, the level is not so great.’’ The Director was asked to explain what he considered to be the reason that school band performance had so quickly reached such a high level in Japan. He replied, ‘‘I think this has to do with the ethnic characteristics of the Japanese, of the Japanese race. Are we not a race that is able to practice with desperation, to devote all of one’s soul to repetition?’’ He continued, ‘‘And the meaning of that can be that people forget how to enjoy music. Certainly, music is supposed to be an enjoyable thing, isn’t it? But, even without enjoyment, people can still repeat with desperation. And among the Japanese race, the performing level may rise in this way, I think.’’ At this point the AJBA Director expressed his concern regarding the role of bands in lifelong learning. Moving from a description of the strenuous rehearsal practices associated with Japanese bands, he concluded that ‘‘Therefore, now there are very few adults who continue with band. Certainly that kind of rehearsal becomes objectionable as people get older. They start to hate it, you see?’’ Generally, the AJBA Director was quite positive regarding the state of bands in Japan, but he did identify some areas of concern that he felt were not a direct result of the AJBA competition itself, but rather, of misguided individuals who had placed more importance on the competition than had ever been envisioned by its creators. While he claimed that ‘‘bands have become a Japanese thing,’’ he indicated that the Texas band system had served as a model for the AJBA competition. The Texas model. Following discussion of highlights from the AJBA Director interview, it is useful to briefly examine the Texas band competition, which was mentioned by the AJBA Director as the most important Western model in terms of influences on the AJBA competition. Since 1958, the Band Division of the Texas Music Educators Association (TMEA) has implemented an Honor

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Band Competition.2 Among the important similarities are its size and scope. The Texas organization consists of over 3,000 band director members, which is roughly comparable to specific school divisions within the Japanese organization. While over 14,000 ensembles are associated with the Japanese organization, that figure includes university, community, and company bands, and in some cases more than one group may be directed by a single conductor. Because of the relatively comparable size of Texas and Japan, both organizations similarly implement their competitions in three stages. For Texas, this consists of (1) Region, (2) Area, and (3) State levels. In the case of Japan, there are (1) Local, (2) Regional, and (3) National level competitions. The most striking differences between the two competitions are that the Japanese contest consists of adjudication of live performances, while the Texas competition entails adjudication of live recordings. This means that in the Japanese model, judges must rely on their immediate impression of live performances, while the sound adjudicated by Texas judges is mediated through technology, and may even be repeatedly examined. Texas bands are required to file a list of the performances to be recorded, from which their submission will be culled. A maximum of five performances may qualify, of which three may be noncompetitive events. In the Japanese model, ensembles have only one chance to perform well in order to qualify for promotion to the next level of competition. Another important difference is that the Texas model classifies bands by school size classification (e.g. 3A, 2B, etc.) rather than actual band size, as is done in Japan. Also, the Texas competition allows groups from each category to compete only once every 2 years.3 This institutionalized break from the competition may help Texas school bands to avoid turning competitive consciousness into an annual routine. Another important difference between these models is that in the Texas system efforts seem to have been made to help protect lower-scoring bands from the public disappointment evident among competition ‘‘losers’’.4 The Texas system evidently seeks to lessen public humiliation by allowing directors the option of maintaining some privacy regarding the final scores of their bands. In the Japanese competition however, the final scores are announced in a formal ceremony, in front of all the participants. This practice certainly adds to the overall drama of the event, and allows for the winners to be publicly honored. While the AJBA Director acknowledged that the Texas competition had influenced the AJBA model, it should be clear that the two competitions are actually quite different in many ways.

8.1.1 Research on Competition in Music It is useful at this point to briefly consider the research background in this area. What is generally known about the role of competition in musical practices? In 1690, Wolfgang Caspar Printz, regarded as ‘‘the ‘first’ music historian,’’

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credited ‘‘the ambition to outdo others’’ as one legitimate theory to explain the origins of music.5 However, most music-lovers prefer to believe that music developed out of a number of more worthy impulses. It is significant that competition appears to play a role in most musical traditions. Nevertheless, most standard reference works in the music field, such as New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians, do not offer entries for ‘‘competition’’. While Garland Encyclopedia of Ethnomusicology does not address the theme of competition directly, it includes discussion of specific competitions within its descriptions of various musical traditions. Among major music reference works, only Oxford Companion to Music offers a brief overview entitled ‘‘competitions in music’’, which limits its scope to Europe and North America.6 According to the Oxford Companion to Music, ‘‘Musical contests of different sorts date back to ancient times, from the Pythian Games held in Delphi in the sixth century B.C., through the meetings of Welsh bards known as eisteddfodau (said to date from the seventh century A.D.), to the medieval puys,’’ and according to a very brief entry in the Oxford Dictionary of Music, the most famous music competitions in history are ‘‘those involving Tannha¨user and Wolfram in the Hall of Song at the Wartburg Castle in Wagner’s Tannha¨user (Act II) and the song contest on the banks of the River Pegnitz at Nuremberg in Act III Sc.2 of Wagner’s Die Meistersinger von Nu¨rnberg – both events being based on reality.’’7 Music competitions are a subject of growing interest in the field of ethnomusicology, as evidenced by a 2003 special edition of the journal World of Music entitled, ‘‘Contesting Tradition: Cross-Cultural Studies of Musical Competition’’. In the Preface to that issue, Frank Gunderson noted that studies of global music traditions have demonstrated competition’s ‘‘role in defining and refining performance practice and repertoire, as well as its importance in forming and solidifying visions of community identity.’’8 The location of the world’s largest music competition would seem to be a question of interest to ethnomusicologists, yet this subject does not appear to have been discussed in the ethnomusicological literature. In the field of popular media, Guinness World Records credits WOMAD (World Festival of Music, Arts and Dance) ‘‘which has presented more than 90 events in 20 different countries since 1982’’ as the ‘‘largest international music festival.’’9 However, WOMAD is a non-competitive event. The Eurovision Song Contest is one of the most widely publicized music contests in the world, for which thousands of popular music vocalists from across Europe audition for the chance to compete on live television, representing their nation of citizenship.10 The total number of auditioning singers for Eurovision is believed to be in the tens of thousands. In the case of Eurovision, there is an independent selection process for contestants, administered by broadcasters (such as the BBC, in the case of the UK) within each participating nation. As of 2011, according to the Eurovision website, ‘‘In 2008, a record number of 43 countries participated.’’11 If an average of 10,000 people auditioned for Eurovision in each of these nations, the total would begin to rival the AJBA competition. However, Eurovision does not provide such information, and there is little

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indication that more than 1,000 singers on average would be permitted to audition for Eurovision in most of the nations represented. According to the Eurovision official website, ‘‘It is entirely up to the participating broadcasters to decide how they pick their entry.’’ Additionally, according to Eurovision: In most countries, televised national selections take place, and usually anyone can send in songs. A selection committee then picks the songs that will take part in the national selection, and a jury or viewers (or a mix of both) decide upon the winner. Some broadcasters pick their entry for the Eurovision Song Contest internally. A selection committee then picks the representing artists, and sometimes also the song to be performed.12

In other words, even if the total number of contestants auditioning for a chance to participate in Eurovision exceeds the number of contestants that participate in the AJBA competition (which appears unlikely), the selection process within each nation in Eurovision is technically a separate competition, since national selection is freely determined by individual broadcasters and not directly administrated by Eurovision. However, in the case of AJBA, the entire contest, at local and regional levels, is directly part of the AJBA national competition for which membership is required and all participants must play a selection from the same set of required pieces. Either way, AJBA would arguably still be the largest music contest in terms of the number of active competitors in a single, unified competition. Currently in the United States, one of the largest of music competitions is the audition for the hit television show, American Idol. According to the American Idol website, a recent series of the program proceeded from a pool of ‘‘50,000 auditioners’’ to crown a single individual on the show.13 In the field of competitive band events in the USA, Bands of America is the prominent organization. According to the Bands of America website, more than 70,000 teenagers participate in its activities that include both competitions and non-competitive festivals.14 Several regional and national music competitions claim a significant number of participants. One is the Winnipeg Music Competition, in Canada, ‘‘with over 30,000 competitors each year.’’15 Another large contest is the Australian National Campus Band Competition, ‘‘already the biggest band competition in the southern hemisphere.’’16 Various pan-European brass band competitions play a significant role in the band world, yet none involve hundreds of thousands of contestants. Among the largest of brass contests in Europe is the regional competition in Valencia, Spain, a unique spectacle that often features more than 30,000 contestants. It is notable that the 1936 Berlin Olympic Games included an international music competition, but it was not very large, and four out of six medals were awarded to Germans.17 Highly populated nations, such as China and India, have supported sizable music festivals and contests, however none are known to involve large ensembles competing at a national level that would exceed a few hundred thousand competitors. Still, recalling the discussion of China’s recent meteoric rise in the field of western music, one may reasonably predict that China will

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someday have a music competition that is larger than the AJBA contest, for this seems inevitable, merely matter of time. Nevertheless, for the time being the AJBA contest appears to still have no significant rivals in terms of size, and Chinese may especially have much to learn from careful study of the administration of this competition. One historical competition, held every 2 years from 1976 to 1989, may conceivably have become larger than the All-Japan Band Association contest for a while, but it was a contest that involved an enormous range of stage performances of all kinds, and it is rather difficult to confirm the actual numbers associated with its music component. That contest was the ‘‘Song to Romania’’ festival, which is believed to have had from 2 to 5 million people competing across a vast array of different artistic fields in honor of Nicolae Ceausescu (1918–1989), the communist leader of Romania renowned for his ‘‘personality cult.’’18 While this was probably the largest cultural competition in history, it must be noted that it was not held annually, the actual size of its music section is unclear, and it has not existed for the past 20 years. The All-Japan Band Association national band contest, with its over 14,000 bands and an estimated 700,000 participants (as of 2010), appears to be the world’s largest music competition. Certainly in terms of sheer size, the AJBA annual band competition is globally significant, and its importance in terms of the performing level of its participants is also well documented. It may come as no surprise to learn that choral music is also organized around competitions in Japan. As of 2004, the Japan Choral Association, which has sponsored a Children’s Song Competition since 1932, consists of ‘‘over 5,000 groups and 140,000 members’’ and it reportedly ‘‘is – and promises to continue to be – one of the leading choral associations in the world.’’19 Nevertheless, some notable leaders in the music field in Japan have expressed ambivalence regarding the role of competition in music. Genichi Kawakami, founder of the Yamaha music school system (the world’s largest network of community music schools), concluded that ‘‘Competition is a necessary evil, because it provides learners with the opportunity to be recognized by the world. However, it leads to a decadence in music, if we think the aim of music is just to compete.’’20 It would seem that some aspects of musical competition might be detrimental, while others are clearly beneficent. Does competition positively or negatively affect music learning, and how are music competitions perceived differently by educators, inside and outside of Japan? National school band competitions have played an important role in the music education systems of various nations. Chou’s study of school concert bands in Taipei (Taiwan) reached the following conclusions: [Participation] in the National Music Competition was a chief focus in their band programs. The National Music Competition deeply influenced student interest in playing the instruments and satisfaction with the band programs. Also, student attitudes toward band participation in the competition continuously became more positive during the pre-competition and final preparation periods, and after the competition period.21

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In the United States as well, a national school band competition existed for a brief period in the 1920s and 1930s. Burdett studied the development of this contest, and observed that ‘‘The National School Band Tournament of 1923 was sponsored by music instrument manufacturing companies’’ and that ‘‘by 1937 ten regional competition-festivals replaced the previous single national contest.’’22 Competition, particularly its effect on student motivation for participation and achievement in music, is a topic that has been researched extensively in the USA and other Western nations. Many American music educators view competition as an ineffective motivational strategy.23 In recent decades, most American school band contests have transformed into ‘‘festivals’’ in which less emphasis is placed on obtaining awards. Festivals may include a clinic or workshop component, in which an accomplished director conducts the group through some of their pieces and attempts to give helpful tips to the director and students. Additionally, Ponick observed that American music competitions ‘‘have usually included a sight-reading component, so teachers are encouraged to do a good variety of literature, sight-read regularly in rehearsal, and not simply drill the contest pieces for months.’’24 Some research studies among American band directors have indicated support for band competitions.25 However, the vast majority of American music educators to write about competition have indicated concerns regarding possible negative effects, which some even view as antithetical to the fundamental objectives of music education.26 American university band directors have even suggested that inexpressive performance may be a result of bad habits formed through participation in competitions. Michigan State University Director of Bands John Whitwell, for example, suggested that competitions may have a detrimental effect on musical interpretation, noting that ‘‘musical interpretation is the weakest area in our teaching and in the performance of our ensembles today. It may be partially due to the contest or festival influences which have played such a large role in the history of our public school ensembles.’’27 Whitwell’s reasoning here was based upon the observation that ‘‘It is certainly easier to evaluate and quantify the accurate playing of rhythms, the fluency of technical demands, and the correctness of intonation than to disagree with the interpretation of a colleague.’’28 Following Whitwell’s argument, it would seem that regular participation in competitions may lead band directors to place priority on issues that do not merit such emphasis, and to devote inadequate attention to some of the most crucial musical concerns. Finally, viewed from a broader perspective, no examination of competition is complete without consideration of the compelling argument presented in the definitive polemic against the efficacy of competition in its myriad forms throughout all domains of human life: Alfie Kohn’s influential No Contest: The Case Against Competition.29 Through an impressive review of hundreds of research studies, Kohn argued that all forms of competition – except challenges to oneself – are harmful and unnecessary, serving only to divide people into groups of winners and losers. Kohn concluded that the organization of human

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behaviors and meanings around the trope of competition is a root cause of many social problems, and demonstrated how – contrary to common perception – competition does not lead to greater productivity. To the contrary, cooperative approaches in educational and business organizations may improve performance, and increase satisfaction and quality of life. Kohn’s argument is elegant and compelling. Yet, it is also extremely impractical. It takes a great stretch of the imagination to picture a world in which humans have ceased to be competitive. As educators we are obligated to balance such idealism with pragmatic considerations, for the sake of our students’ futures. Surely it benefits the future career of any young and talented concert pianist to actively participate in concerto competitions, regardless of one’s opinions concerning whether such events ought to even exist. However, at the systemic level, in the executive planning, budgeting, and administration of music education organizations, Kohn’s argument may deserve a voice. Clearly, the value of competitive activities in music is a subject of continued debate, and further research is needed in this area. The AJBA competition is, in many ways, a uniquely important event in the music world. It serves as an emotionally-charged rite of passage, bringing musicians together from across all of Japan to share the joys of music, the thrills of victory, and the anguish of loss. It provides recognition to some of the world’s finest school ensembles, and helps motivate bands throughout Japan to achieve their greatest potential. It also contributes to band repertoire through annual commissions, and provides an effective network for lifelong participation in music. These are commendable achievements that merit the attention of international musicians and educators.

Notes 1. See Krushinsky (2003) and Safier (1996) for detailed discussion of Yasukuni Shrine. 2. These details were obtained from the TMEA official website (Texas Music Educators Association, n.d.). 3. According to the Texas guidelines (as of January 30, 2002), ‘‘(a). In even-numbered years, classifications 5A and 3A high schools, 3C, 2C, and 1C middle schools may enter tapes. (b). In odd-numbered years, classifications 4A, 2A, 1A, 1B/2B/3B (combined) junior high schools may enter recordings. In junior high school, a competition will occur at the state level only if there is an adequate number of schools to justify such a competition (five or more is suggested).’’ 4. According to the Texas guidelines, ‘‘The bands ranked in the top fifty percent of the recordings in each classification will be listed as Finalists outside of the TMEA Band Division Office,’’ and ‘‘The rankings of the bands in the bottom 50% of the tapes in each classification will be made available only to the directors of those bands.’’ 5. This is discussed by Allen (1962), p. 24. 6. See Latham and Spencer (2002). 7. See Oxford Dictionary of Music (n.d.), and Latham and Spencer (n.d.). 8. See Gunderson (2003), p. 7, as well as other articles in the same issue. Other notable competitions have been studied by ethnomusicologists in such nations as Thailand (Phoasavadi, 2005) and Ghana (Pier, 2009), where this author has also had the pleasure of observing musicians.

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9. See the Guinness website for further details (Guinness World Records, n.d.). 10. See Bohlman (2004) and Raykoff and Tobin (2007) for scholarly analyses of this event. Reaching its 55th anniversary in 2010, the Eurovision Song Contest remains ‘‘the largest and most watched international festival of popular music, as well as one of the world’s longest-running annual television programs’’ (Raykoff & Tobin, 2007, p. xvii). 11. Eurovision: Facts and Figures (n.d.). 12. Eurovision: How to Participate (n.d.). 13. Discussed on the American Idol website (American Idol, n.d.). 14. Discussed on the Bands of America website (Bands of America, n.d.). 15. Discussed on the Winnipeg Music Festival website (Winnipeg Music Festival, n.d.). 16. Discussed on the NCMC website (NCMC: National Campus Band Competition, n.d.). 17. See Cohen (1997) for a rigorous and thorough discussion of Spanish bands. In Europe, other researchers have examined the British brass band movement (Odello, 2005), and some have even credited competitions for the rise of early European art music (Vaubel, 2005). See Yoshida (2009) for historical discussion of music and art contests in the Olympic Games. 18. See Giurchescu (1987). 19. See Tsutsumi (2007), p. 3. 20. See Kawakami (1987), p. 234. 21. See Chou (2001). 22. See Burdett (1986) for detailed discussion. 23. This position is conveyed in several different publications (Austin, 1990; Hosler, 2002; Miller, 1994). 24. See Ponick (2001), p. 24. 25. A survey of 293 American band directors by Hurst (1994) determined that ‘‘the most important reasons for participation in music competitions were that they provide a sense of accomplishment for students, help maintain quality student performance and high standards for music education, provide a means of evaluation, and a clear goal for instruction.’’ Some American music education researchers have suggested that with increased involvement in music competitions, ensemble members tend to view competitions more favourably (Burnsed & Sochinski, 1983). Sheldon’s experimental study of 226 American high school band students found that under identical conditions, performances believed to be associated with competitions were rated more highly than those believed to be associated with regular concerts (Sheldon, 1994). This finding would suggest that students may place greater value on competitive performances. 26. Moody warned that ‘‘Many parents and school authorities seem to prefer trophies to music education. . . . The excitement of competition may cause the public to believe that all the glitter is pure gold, but band directors should know the difference. For the same reason that doctors practice medicine rather than witchcraft, the first goal of professional teachers should be education rather than entertainment’’ (Moody, 1983, p. 81). Austin wrote that ‘‘Many of today’s music educators are immersed in the race to be number one, and at times it is difficult to tell where the athletic field ends and the music classroom begins. Well-meaning rhetoric continues to surround competitive music events, but in the final analysis, education appears to be a serendipitous byproduct, rather than a primary goal, for the many teachers and students who cling to contest outcomes for social status or material rewards’’ (Austin, 1990, p. 22). And empirical research concerning competition within American ensembles has concluded that ‘‘competition may inhibit, rather than enhance, learning and performance’’ (Austin, 1991, p. 154). Hosler offered the suggestion that ‘‘directors should re-examine the reasons they have for participating in competitions’’ and ‘‘should base the performance schedule for the year on interesting literature, not around marching and concert competition dates’’ (Hosler, 2002, p. 30). He also observed that ‘‘Although competitions have some value as a source of motivation and pride, this becomes a detriment when the competition becomes more important than the music’’

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(Hosler, 2002, p. 30). According to MENC past-president Dorothy Straub, ‘‘If, in preparation for contest, the routine of rehearsals is an endless repetition of limited repertoire, students may not see music as something they can enjoy for the rest of their lives. Then we have defeated our purpose’’ (Ponick, 2001, p. 23). Miller reached the conclusion that ‘‘All contests, be they competitive or not, should be done without rating systems at all. Very few directors, let alone students, are able to get past the number they receive and objectively analyze the comments of the adjudicators. The reaction a director has to a critical comment about phrasing is different when accompanied by a I rather than a III’’ (Miller, 1994, p. 31). Here Miller referred to a standardized rating system used by adjudicators to evaluate the performances of school bands within American festivals. 27. See Whitwell’s discussion in Williamson and Neidig (1998), p. 83. Whitwell’s reasoning here was based upon the observation that ‘‘It is certainly easier to evaluate and quantify the accurate playing of rhythms, the fluency of technical demands, and the correctness of intonation than to disagree with the interpretation of a colleague.’’ 28. This is also from Williamson and Neidig (1998), p. 83. This opens up the issue of evaluation and ranking as well, which is inevitably challenging for judges. Studies have determined that bias becomes a factor in even the most prestigious music competitions (Glejser & Heyndels, 2001). 29. See Kohn (1992).

References Allen, W. D. (1962). Philosophies of music history: A study of general histories of music 1600–1960. New York: Dover. American Idol: Show Info. (n.d.) Retrieved October 25, 2004, from http://www.idolonfox. com/showinfo/ Austin, J. R. (1990). Competition: Is music education the loser? Music Educators Journal, 76 (6), 21–25. Austin, J. R. (1991). Competitive and non-competitive goal structures: An analysis of motivation and achievement among elementary band students. Psychology of Music, 19, 142–158. Bands of America. (n.d.). About Bands of America. Retrieved October 25, 2004, from http:// www.bands.org/public/resourceroom/about.asp Bohlman, P. V. (2004). The music of European nationalism. Santa Barbara, CA: ABC-CLIO. Burdett, N. D. (1986). The high school music contest movement in the United States. Doctoral dissertation, Boston University. Burnsed, V., & Sochinski, J. (1983). Research on competitions. Music Educators Journal, 70, 25–27. Chou, I. (2001). The national music competition in Taiwan: A study of attitudinal values of band participation (China). Master thesis, University of Southern California. Cohen, R. S. (1997). The musical society community bands of Valencia, Spain: A global study of their administration, instrumentation, repertoire and performance activities. Doctoral dissertation, Northwestern University. Eurovision: Facts and Figures. (n.d.). Retrieved September 11, 2011, from http://www.eurovision.tv/page/history/facts-figures Eurovision: How to Participate. (n.d.). Retrieved September 11, 2011, from http://www. eurovision.tv/page/dusseldorf-2011/about/national-selections/how-to-participate Giurchescu, A. (1987). The national festival ‘‘Song to Romania’’: Manipulation of symbols in the political discourse. In C. Arvidsson & L. E. Blomqvist (Eds.), Symbols of power: The esthetics of political legitimation in the Soviet Union and Eastern Europe (pp. 163–171). Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell International.

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Glejser, H., & Heyndels, B. (2001). Efficiency and inefficiency in the ranking in competitions: The case of the Queen Elisabeth music contest. Journal of Cultural Economics, 25, 109–129. Guinness World Records. (n.d.). Find a world record. Retrieved October 25, 2004, from http:// www.guinnessworldrecords.com/ Gunderson, F. (2003). Preface. World of Music, 45(1), 7–10. Hosler, M. (2002). Burned out by competitions. Instrumentalist, 56(10), 30–31. Hurst, C. W. (1994). A nationwide investigation of high school band directors’ reasons for participating in music competitions. Doctoral dissertation, University of North Texas. Kawakami, G. (1987). Reflections on music popularization. Tokyo: Yamaha Music Foundation. Kohn, A. (1992). No contest: The case against competition. New York: Mariner Books. Krushinsky, A. (2003, January 15). Japanese Prime Minister shocks the world visiting Yasukuni Shrine. Pravda (D. Sudakov, Trans.). Latham, A., & Spencer, P. (Eds.). (2002). Competitions in music. In Oxford companion to music (pp. 276–278). Oxford: Oxford University Press. Miller, R. E. (1994). A dysfunctional culture: Competition in music. Music Educators Journal, 81(3), 29–33. Moody, W. J. (1983). Education and contests. Instrumentalist, 38(1), 84. NCBC: National Campus Band Competition. (n.d.). Retrieved October 25, 2004, from http:// yap.com.au/bandcomp/ Odello, D. (2005). Re-contextualizing music: Emergent community and values in the brass band movement of nineteenth-century England. Doctoral dissertation, University of California. Ann Arbor, MI: Proquest/UMI. Oxford Dictionary of Music. (n.d.). ‘‘Competitions, Musical.’’ 2nd ed. rev., M. Kennedy (Ed.). Oxford Music Online. Retrieved April 13, 2010, from http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com. ezproxy.bu.edu/subscriber/article/opr/t237/e2317 Phoasavadi, P. (2005). From prachan to prakuad: The process of officializing traditional music competition in contemporary Bangkok (Thailand). Doctoral dissertation, University of Washington. Ann Arbor, MI: Proquest/UMI. Pier, D. G. (2009). The Senator National Cultural Extravaganza of Ghana: A branded African traditional music competition. Doctoral dissertation, City University of New York. Ann Arbor, MI: Proquest/UMI. Ponick, F. S. (2001). Competing for ratings: Is it a good idea? Teaching Music, 8, 20–25. Raykoff, I., & Tobin, R. D. (Eds.). (2007). A song for Europe: Popular music and politics in the Eurovision song contest. Aldershot: Ashgate. Safier, J. (1996). Yasukuni shrine and the constraints on the discourses of nationalism in twentieth century Japan. Master thesis, University of Kansas. Sheldon, D. A. (1994). The effects of competitive versus noncompetitive performance goals on students’ ratings of band performances. Bulletin of the Council for Research in Music Education, 121, 29–41. Texas Music Educators Association. (n.d.) Honor band rules and forms. Retrieved October 25, 2004, from http://www.tmea.org/ Tsutsumi, M. (2007). A history of the Japan choral association. Doctoral dissertation, Florida State University. Ann Arbor, MI: Proquest/UMI. Vaubel, R. (2005). The role of competition in the rise of Baroque and Renaissance music. Journal of Cultural Economics, 29, 277–297. Williamson, J. E., & Neidig, K. L. (1998). Rehearsing the band. Cloudcroft, NM: Neidig Services. Winnipeg Music Festival. (n.d.). 86th annual Winnipeg Music Festival: Welcome to the Winnipeg Music Festival. Retrieved October 25, 2004, from http://www.wmcf.org/ Yoshida, H. (2009). The art competitions in the modern Olympic Games: Rethinking the boundary problem between art and sport. Aesthetics, 13, 111–120.

Chapter 9

Japanese Composers and Wind Band Repertoire

親の心子知らず Oyano kokoro ko shirazu ‘‘A child knows not its parent’s love’’

9.1 Repertoire Selection On several occasions I asked Ishikawa Middle School students about their opinions of the music that the band played and how the repertoire was chosen. They indicated that all of the music was chosen by Kato Sensei without their input. Seeking confirmation, I asked Kato Sensei how musical selections were chosen for the band. She explained, ‘‘For the competition and concerts, I listen to what other school bands are playing . . .’’ ‘‘Like a spy?,’’ I jokingly asked. We laughed. She continued, ‘‘Ah yes, like a spy. I remember the pieces I like, and that I think are the kind the students will like, and then search for them. Students don’t become very good at performing pieces they dislike.’’ Among contemporary Japanese band composers, Kato Sensei particularly appreciated the work of Yasuhide Ito. She explained that ‘‘His compositions use Japanese folk song styles, which I like very much. His work is excellent. And, I think he makes pieces with which one can easily win at the band competitions and that work well for the level of the students.’’ Ito is widely regarded as a leading Japanese wind band composer, and his works are discussed elsewhere.1 Kato Sensei’s view regarding Japanese band compositions was generally quite positive. However, on one occasion when asked to describe the pieces played at competitions, her answer took on a much more serious tone. Kato Sensei explained as follows: For the competitions, the body of works considered appropriate, from which one may select, has become smaller. One has to consider what will appeal to the small group of judges, and that seems to have some negative effects. For instance, at the competition you just attended there was no jazz or popular music. While there are no explicit rules

D.G. Hebert, Wind Bands and Cultural Identity in Japanese Schools, 155 Landscapes: the Arts, Aesthetics, and Education 9, DOI 10.1007/978-94-007-2178-4_9, Ó Springer ScienceþBusiness Media B.V. 2012

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about genres one cannot play, clearly people tend more often to win performing certain kinds of pieces. Even if you do a very impressive performance in a different genre, you are quite unlikely to receive a medal. It seems to be a bit of a poison.

While Kato Sensei recognized some variety in the contest repertoire, she noted that there is ‘‘still no real jazz or popular music’’ performed at the competitions. Here she made an important point regarding a complex theme explored in the interview with the AJBA Director (Chapter 8). Namely, this entailed the issues of tradition and authority: how has wind band music been defined as a genre in Japan, how wide or narrow is this definition, who has the authority to determine such delineations, and to what extent has the genre been reinvented in Japan? It was clear from such discussions that the requirements of the AJBA competition play a significant role in definition of the genre and establishment of a tradition that the AJBA Director indicated must be ‘‘maintained.’’ This kind of process can only occur through a system of cooperation between the AJBA administration, band directors, composers, and publishers.

9.2 AJBA Required Pieces Writing in 1978, Neidig observed that in Japan ‘‘the majority of band music used in schools is imported from U.S. publishers.’’2 During the 25 years since Neidig’s publication, this situation has changed dramatically, as Japanese publishers have especially monopolized the domestic market for band works. This situation developed as band composers increasingly produced original wind compositions and band arrangements of music specifically to meet the requirements of the band competition system. With this point in mind, it seems important now to describe the repertoire associated with Japanese bands, particularly within the AJBA competition system. Analysis will demonstrate that an effective system of cooperative relationships between composers, publishers and consumers has produced the body of repertoire commonly performed by Japanese bands. For the AJBA national competition, each band is required to perform two pieces. One, the ‘‘required piece’’ (kadaikyoku), is to be chosen from a selection of new band works commissioned each year by AJBA specifically for the competition. For the 50th AJBA competition, the Ishikawa Middle School band played Tadashi Adachi’s ‘‘ ‘Rapsodia’ for Band’’ as its required piece. The full score for this piece was published by the All-Japan Band Association earlier in the year, and a CD recording of its live performance at the national competition for middle school bands was also later released by the organization.3 The other composition performed for the contest, a ‘‘free piece’’ (jiyukyoku), is selected by each ensemble, yet may not exceed the time limitations set in the competition guidelines. The Ishikawa Middle School Band played a wind band arrangement of themes from Tchaikovky’s ‘‘Swan Lake’’ as its free piece at the 50th AJBA competition. In recent years, the AJBA has annually selected

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four new pieces by four different composers for use as a ‘‘required piece.’’ This practice of annual commissions has fostered the development of a large body of original Japanese band works, and encouraged many young Japanese composers to create music for the wind band idiom. At the 50th AJBA competition, the four required pieces (from which one must be chosen by each band) were the following: (1) Lament for Wind Orchestra, by Chang Su Koh, (2) Remembrances, by Hiroshi Okada, (3) Miniature Symphony in Eb major, by Hiroshi Hara, and (4) ‘‘Rapsodia’’ for Band, by Tadashi Adachi.4 Of these pieces, ‘‘Miniature Symphony’’ appears to have been the least popular (a very predictable piece with little rhythmic or harmonic appeal), and the majority of successful bands chose ‘‘Lament for Wind Orchestra,’’ which is slow, yet harmonically rich and expressive. At the lowest level of competition, among the Class A (large sized) middle school bands at the local contest in Tokyo, there had been a broad spread of preference among these selections, with 12 bands performing Lament for Wind Orchestra, 20 bands performing Remembrances, 6 bands performing Miniature Symphony in Eb major, and 19 bands performing ‘‘Rapsodia’’ for Band.5 However, as the contest progressed from local (Tokyo city) to regional (Kanto area) levels, some clear tendencies emerged. Of the six bands that qualified for the regional competition, three performed Lament for Wind Orchestra and three performed ‘‘Rapsodia’’ for Band, while the pieces by Okada and Hara were not performed at all. Then, at the national level, 18 bands performed ‘‘Lament’’, 7 performed Remembrances, only 2 performed Miniature Symphony in Eb major, and 9 performed ‘‘Rapsodia’’ for Band. Although it originally ranked third in preference at the lowest level of competition in Tokyo, clearly, ‘‘Rapsodia’’ was the most popular selection among middle school bands that managed to reach the national level. ‘‘Rapsodia’’ was also the most popular ‘‘required piece’’ among successful high school bands, where at the national level it was performed by 11 bands, while two bands performed Remembrances, and Hara and Adachi’s pieces remained unperformed. From this sample of data, it looks likely that even in the case of required pieces there may be a correlation between repertoire choice and competition placement that is worth exploration through further research. Since Lament for Wind Orchestra emerged as the most important band work associated with the 2002 competition winners, it may be useful here to describe its characteristics in detail.6 The composer profile included in sheet music scores and concert programs explains that Koh was born in 1970, and is a graduate of the Composition Department of the Osaka College of Music (Japan) who also studied abroad at the Basel Academy of Music in Switzerland. The profile also mentions that Koh has composed a number of chamber wind pieces for various instrumentations. Koh’s ‘‘Lament for Wind Orchestra’’ is harmonically and texturally the most complex piece among the four required selections of the AJBA 2002 competition. It features unison lines in unpredictable, disjunct melodies spanning unusual intervals, often juxtaposed against dissonant suspensions. There are several exposed parts that entail performance risks for

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various instrumental sections: brief flute, oboe and trumpet solos, as well as soli passages for the horn and low brass sections. The piece gradually builds in harmonic density and swells in volume to reach an impressive peak at its conclusion.

9.3 AJBA Free Pieces Since it usually takes about 5 min to perform each of the kadaikyoku (required piece) options, the jiyukyoku (free piece) must be short, typically lasting from 5½ to 6½ min. Judges are very strict about disqualifying bands that exceed their time limit on stage, as such practices could potentially delay the entire competition. Japanese band directors view such ‘‘free pieces’’ in terms of three categories: (I) band arrangements of famous orchestral classics, (II) original band works by Western composers, and (III) original Japanese band works. The following figure illustrates the yearly breakdown of works performed as a ‘‘free piece’’ at the AJBA competition in terms of these three categories (Fig. 9.1). Over a 10-year period, these percentages have remained fairly consistent, with around half the bands choosing to perform a band arrangement of a famous European orchestral work.7 Approximately 30% tended to select an original band work by a Western composer from 1995 to 2002, but from 2003 through 2005 the proportion of bands choosing to perform an original Japanese band piece significantly increased from its original level of around 1/6 to nearly 1/4 of the total. These proportions look rather different at the national level of competition,8 where approximately 2/3 of the bands have tended to perform arrangements of European orchestral works during the years 1996 through 2006 (Fig. 9.2). How do these figures look in terms of specific pieces? Selections lasting from 5½ to 6½ min from the following list of compositions (Fig. 9.3) were performed as the ‘‘free piece’’ by the 29 middle school bands that reached the highest

Year (I) Arrangement

(II) Western Band

(III) Japanese Band

1995 1996 1997 1998 1999 2000 2001 2002 2003 2004 2005

29.8% (272) 26.8% (244) 28.2% (257) 30.3% (278) 32.5% (303) 30.4% (297) 29.7% (287) 30.4% (302) 27.7% (282) 29.6% (295) 29.1% (298)

17.8% (161) 12.7% (116) 16.6% (151) 14.7% (135) 15.5% (144) 14.4% (141) 15.9% (154) 16.8% (167) 23.5% (239) 20.4% (204) 24.7% (253)

52.5% (479) 60.5% (552) 55.2% (503) 54.9% (501) 52.0% (485) 55.1% (538) 54.3% (524) 52.9% (526) 48.8% (496) 50.1% (502) 46.1% (472)

Fig. 9.1 ‘‘Free piece’’ categories in the AJBA regional competitions

9.3 AJBA Free Pieces

Year 2004 2005 2006

(I) Arrangement 55.32% (52) 51.06% (48) 63.83% (60)

96−06 65.86% (625)

159

(II) Western Band 21.28% (20) 25.53% (24) 14.89% (14)

(III) Japanese Band 23.4% (22) 23.4% (22) 21.28% (20)

18.12% (172)

16.02% (152)

Fig. 9.2 ‘‘Free piece’’ categories in the AJBA national competition

Title (1) Escales (2) Raymonda (3) Armenian Dances, Part I (4) Pagan Dances (5) Till Eulenspiegels Lustige Streiche (6) Symphony No.1 (7) Feste Romane (8) Aki no Heiankyo (9) Foster Gallery (10) Le Cid Ballet Suite (11) American Knights! (12) Foster Gallery (13) Riverdance (14) Toshiie and Matsu (15) Jocuri Poporale Romanesti (16) Global Variations (17) American Knights! (18) Don Juan (19) Celtic Rhapsody (20) Tosca (21) The Inn of the Sixth Happiness (22) The Inn of the Sixth Happiness (23) Gayane (24) The Bronze Horseman (25) Ein Heldenleben (26) Salome’s Dance (27) The Swan Lake (28) St. Anthony Variations (29) The Red Poppy

Composer Jacques Ibert (I) Alexander Glazunov (I) Alfred Reed (II) James Barnes (II) Richard Strauss (I) Philip Sparke (II) Ottorino Respighi (I) Tetsunosuke Kushida (III) Morton Gould (II) Jules Massenet (I) Stephen Melillo (II) Morton Gould (II) Bill Whelan (II) Toshiyuki Watanabe (III) Bela Bartok (I) Nigel Hess (II) Stephen Melillo (II) Richard Strauss (I) Tomohiro Tatede (III) Giacomo Puccini (I) Malcolm Arnold (I) Malcolm Arnold (I) Aram Kachaturian (I) (I) Richard Strauss (I) Richard Strauss (I) Petr Ilyich Tchaikovsky (I) William Hill (II) (I)

Fig. 9.3 ‘‘Free pieces’’ of middle school bands at 50th AJBA nationals

(national) level of the 50th AJBA competition (printed verbatim, using spellings as listed in the 2002 program). Roman numerals listed after the composers’ names indicate how each piece may be grouped according to the same categories used in the two preceding figures. A wide variety of nationalities are represented among these composers: Japanese, Russian, American, British, German, Italian and Hungarian. American and Russian composers are particularly well represented, although in different

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categories: original American band works (by Alfred Reed, James Barnes, and Morton Gould, for example), and Japanese arrangements of Russian orchestral works (including pieces by Glazunov, Kachaturian, Tchaikovsky and Gliere). Most of the listed pieces were performed by only one band, but three, ‘‘Foster Gallery’’, ‘‘American Knights!’’, and ‘‘The Inn of the Sixth Happiness’’ were performed twice each. In the case of ‘‘The Inn of the Sixth Happiness’’, two bands performed different selections from within the same piece, so these performances may be viewed as essentially different pieces. It is also worth noting that Richard Strauss was by far the most popular composer, with four different selections performed (Till Eulenspiegels Lustige Streiche (sic.), Don Juan, Ein Heldenleben, and Salome’s Dance). During the decade from 1996 to 2006, ten composers were particularly popular at the national level of competition (Fig. 9.4). Japanese composer Masamichi Amano’s works have been frequently performed at the AJBA nationals along with that of nine Europeans from various nations, especially Italy and parts of Eastern Europe. However, other Japanese composers have also been gaining popularity. In 2006, one of Toshio Mashima’s pieces ‘‘Mitsu no Japanism’’ was the most performed original Japanese band work at the regional level of composition, with a total of 17 performances.9 It is important to note that despite the international appearance of these selections, most pieces listed as compositions by famous European composers actually consist of band transcriptions by Japanese arrangers that are published on Japanese presses. Upon careful examination of the pieces played by middle school bands at the 50th AJBA national competition, one finds that 19 of the 26 ‘‘free pieces’’ were either composed or arranged by Japanese composers. Therefore, if one views the 29 bands – performing 2 pieces each – as 58 distinct performances (which is the legal position in terms of intellectual property), one finds that 49 out of the 58 pieces performed (85%) were either composed or arranged by Japanese musicians and made available exclusively through Japanese presses and distributors. In other words, all profits remain in Japan associated with the sales and performance of such pieces (as well as recorded

Fig. 9.4 Consistently popular composers at AJBA nationals (1996–2006)

Rank 1 2 3 4 5 6 6 8 9 10

Composer Maurice Ravel Ottorino Respighi Richard Strauss Malcolm Arnold Bela Bartok Masamichi Amano Giacomo Puccini Zoltan Kodaly Aram Katchaturian Franco Cesarini

Performances 77 63 60 42 41 34 34 26 21 20

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models) to the thousands of bands participating in the AJBA competition. This finding may be of interest to composers and publishers of wind music outside of Japan. For what reasons are such pieces chosen? The first issue of fundamental importance is length. Depending upon the exact length of the ‘‘required piece’’ chosen and the amount of time it takes for a large ensemble to move completely on and off the stage, bands are able to perform a ‘‘free piece’’ that lasts for approximately 5½ to 6½ min. This limitation profoundly affects repertoire choice. Within this extremely short time span, each band aims to present an impressive performance. For such purposes, Japanese band directors seek pieces that are emotionally expressive, technically difficult, and highly demonstrative of playing within each instrumental section of the ensemble, all within the space of a few minutes. Very few original Western band pieces comfortably fit each of these strict requirements. Therefore, Japanese composers are hired to arrange excerpts from some of the most impressive, highly expressive, and technically complex Western orchestral classics into brief showpieces for band. Over time, a collaborative – even symbiotic – relationship has formed between Japanese school band conductors, publishers, and composers, united by their objective to produce effective show pieces for the AJBA competition. It is also important to note that although many competitive Japanese school bands devote the majority of their time to perfecting the performance of technically complex works for the AJBA competition, they also play other kinds of music during the academic year. Some school bands adopt a ‘‘marching band’’ format for part of the Autumn months, for which they perform marches and participate in parades. It is also very common for school bands to learn several kayoukyoku (popular song arrangements) for poppusu suteeji (popular music shows), which can comprise either one section – usually at the very end following the more difficult kurashikku (art music) pieces – or even an entire concert of familiar song arrangements, usually offered for the local community. Such programs typically include wind band arrangements of movie soundtrack themes (especially from Japanese anime, but also major Hollywood blockbusters), Broadway showtunes (especially by Andrew Lloyd Weber), famous songs popularized by Frank Sinatra, The Beatles, Elvis, the Beach Boys, and the Carpenters, as well as hits by an array of Japanese rock and ‘‘J-pop’’ musicians, such as Mr. Children, Southern All Stars, and Dreams Come True. Some of these pieces can be rather mundane, but other arrangements – including some particularly memorable ones of tunes by Antonio Carlos Jobim, for example – can be quite effective. This tradition of playing popular tunes may arguably be traced as far back as to the jinta of the early twentieth century. Typically, when arrangements of popular music are included in a concert along with the kinds of pieces performed at the competition, they are clearly separated by an intermission, and the bands will adopt an entirely different approach to their performance. Although an atmosphere of extreme formality is maintained during any performance of the kind of ‘‘serious’’ compositions associated with the competition, during performances of popular music it is not unusual for bands to wear

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‘‘funny’’ hats, stand for instrumental soli parts, make wild gestures on cue, throw objects, and even lift their legs in unison like a can-can dance. Such behaviors clearly indicate that this music is understood to be light and enjoyable, and interviews with school band members confirmed that ‘‘both kinds’’ of music were widely appreciated for different reasons: the competition music for the challenge it offered and the beauty associated with its most expressive moments, and the popular music for the sheer fun of playing it as well as the enjoyment it apparently gave to audiences.

9.4 Japanese Band Composers Who are the notable Japanese composers and arrangers for wind bands and what are the characteristic features of their works? These questions are important ones that surely could only be adequately covered by another book devoted exclusively to this topic. Perhaps that project will also come to fruition in the near future, but for now the purpose of this section will be to provide a general introduction to some of the more influential Japanese band composers with description of their diverse approaches to composition for the wind band idiom. In recent decades, Japanese composers have produced a unique body of original works for wind band that fuse western art music with prominent influences from Japanese traditional music and culture. Many of these works were produced by commissions from professional Japanese wind bands or as required pieces for the All-Japan Band Association competition, and the technical requirements of such pieces cover a broad range from pieces that are playable by elementary school bands to complex works that can only be performed by the most advanced of professional ensembles. Six of the most well-known Japanese wind band composers have been interviewed by the author, including Hiroshi Hoshina (b.1936), Yasuhide Ito (b.1960), Toshio Mashima (b.1949), Masamichi Amano (b.1957), Isao Matsushita (b.1951), and Tetsunosuke Kushida (b.1935).10 Considerable diversity may be found among the biographical profiles of each of these artists as well as their approaches to music composition. Hoshina and Ito. Composers Hiroshi Hoshina and Yasuhide Ito have produced music inspired by infamous historical events from which ghosts are still said to linger, including the annihilation of Hiroshima’s civilian population at the conclusion of World War II and the martyrdom of Japanese Christians during the early seventeenth century, respectively. Hoshina’s most well-known wind band works include ‘‘Fu-Mon’’ and ‘‘Koshi: An Ancient Festival’’. The harmonies of many of his pieces are impressionistic, particularly reminiscent of Debussy, yet his melodies are often based on Japanese folk songs or thematic material that is clearly evocative of Japanese traditional culture. Ito is around 25 years younger than Hoshina and he takes a rather different approach to composition. His music tends to feature assymetrical meters and unusual melodic shifts that often resemble the symphonies of Dmitri Shostakovich

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who is among his favorite composers. Ito is most well known for his lengthy piece Gloriosa, a dramatic wind symphony based on hymns that survived from pre-Meiji Christianity in Japan. Ito teaches music for various universities and conservatories in the Tokyo area, while Hoshina has worked for many years as a Professor of music at Hyogo University of Education. Matsushita. Composer Isao Matsushita is among Japan’s most respected living composers, and holds an academic appointment as a Professor of music composition at Tokyo University of the Arts. Matsushita’s most well known work for band is ‘‘Dance of the Flying God’’, a piece based on Japanese Buddhist principles. The first section of this music takes the notion of ‘‘enlightenment from a single tone’’ as its inspiration, a concept well-known among shakuhachi players. All the wind band musicians play an identical pitch as they gradually enter the performance space in a ritualistic invitation for the Hiten (flying angelic beings of Buddhism) to enter the hall for the performance. As the composer explains, the rhythmic motifs and development of the second section are based entirely on Shomyo chant and mathematical principles derived from a sacred Sanskrit text. Matsushita’s other most well known work, ‘‘Hi-Ten-Yu’’, combines taiko drumming with western orchestral instruments. While Hoshina, Ito, and Matsushita hold university-level music teaching appointments, other band composers, such as Toshio Mashima and Masamichi Amano, have managed to establish strong careers as professional composers entirely outside of academia. Mashima. Composer Toshio Mashima is a professional jazz trombonist and award-winning composer, and his most well known band work is ‘‘Les Trois Notes du Japon’’, based on three scenes from Kyoto. Each section of this piece features symbols of Japanese spirituality, from the courting of cranes, to scenes in a snowy ravine, and finally the Nebuta purification festival of Aomori. Mashima has published numerous popular music arrangements for wind bands, and much of his output is jazz-influenced. However, his more serious band works are highly respected by peers. On December 16, 2006, he was awarded the prestigious ‘‘Grand Prix des Conseils Ge´ne´raux du Nord et de Pas-de-Calais’’ for his recent wind symphony ‘‘La Danse du Phenix: Impression de Kyoto.’’ The only award of its kind in the field of wind band composition, this Grand Prix came with a cash prize of 10,000 Euros and a premier performance by professional wind musicians at the Opera de Lille in France. Amano. Composer Masamichi Amano is another very popular band composer who has produced numerous arrangements and original works for the wind band idiom, but is also widely known for composing soundtracks to animated movies and major feature films. Amano has a strong affinity to Polish culture and has often commissioned the Warsaw Philharmonic to record his symphonic pieces. His soundtrack for the animated film ‘‘GR’’ (for Giant Robo: The Day the Earth Stood Still) expresses a passionate response to the future threat of dehumanizing technology. Amano’s soundtrack to the blockbuster film ‘‘Battle Royale’’ brought him to international attention. Interestingly, the plot of this infamously violent film symbolically protests the horrific effects of

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an ultra-competitive educational system, which is a theme that some would consider relevant to the social and institutional context of school bands in Japan. Amano’s wind symphony ‘‘Ohnai’’ is a powerful homage to the victims of Kobe’s Great Hanshin earthquake of 1995. Kushida. Composer Tetsunosuke Kushida is also widely respected for producing attractive works for young bands based on musical themes from traditional Japanese festivals and gagaku court music, as well as ‘‘Figuration for Shakuhachi and Band’’, a fascinating piece that artfully combines shakuhachi flute with western wind ensemble instrumentation. Kushida’s work tends to sound very much like Japanese traditional music, as his compositional objectives are to convey a Japanese musical sensibility through western instrumentation. Kushida described his intentions as follows: I think there is something special about the Japanese conceptualization of how traditional Japanese music and western forms may be combined. Consider, for example, the sound of the wind, the cries of birds, and the calls of insects, all of which have been viewed as similar to music since ancient times in Japan. This is within all the arts, and comes out in the literature, in the ukiyoe art works, and particularly in the monogatari (tales). Beautiful sounds are considered to be music, therefore the perception of what is defined as music may be different in Japan. I think that this unusual sense has also had implications for wind band music. It is great to express this sensibility through Japanese instruments such as koto and shakuhachi, but I thought that composing in this way for wind ensemble would also be worthwhile, as this is a more global medium. Still, I wondered if people from other nations would understand such a Japanese approach. Recently even in Japan there are those who do not grasp this traditional Japanese aesthetic sensibility, but I thought that through this way even young people and those outside Japan could understand it. For me it is important to express the true heart of Japan, which is my objective in composition.

While Kushida and Matsushita clearly aim to represent Japanese cultural identity through their music, the expression of Japanese identity appears to be somewhat less of a concern for Ito, Mashima, and Hoshina, and of little concern at all to Amano. As a result, upon listening to most of Amano’s wind band music it is difficult to identify the national identity of the composer. The music is certainly expressive and interesting, but it does not necessarily sound ‘‘Japanese’’. In the case of Ito, Mashima, and Hoshina, some pieces sound quite ‘‘Japanese’’ while others do not. Finally, nearly all wind band pieces by Kushida and Matsushita tend to be immediately recognizable as ‘‘Japanese’’ music. Why is this so, and what does this aspect of the musical sound mean for performers and listeners?

9.5 Transculturation and Hybridity in Japanese Band Music Until recent decades it was assumed in the world of European classical music that ‘‘someone who was Japanese simply could not play with any soul or fidelity music that was composed by a European.’’11 This ignorant assumption also applied to Japanese who dared attempt composing in western idioms as well,

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until it was effectively debunked by the emergence and recognition of undeniably skilled and prolific Japanese composers, most notably Toru Takemitsu and Akira Miyoshi. However, the question of how cultural identity is best expressed by an Asian composer through music that is mostly traceable to European tradition has proven to be a complicated one that baffles not only the listening public, but musicologists and even the composers themselves. How has this issue manifested itself in the sphere of Japanese wind band music? Fence, flavor, phantasm. In his study of cultural identity among Japanese musicians, Gordon Mathews identified ‘‘three formulations of Japaneseness among Japanese musicians’’: (1) Fence, (2) Flavor, and (3) Phantasm.12 Mathews explained that this formulation considers ‘‘Japaneseness as fence, walling off Japanese from the inroads of foreignness, Japaneseness as flavor to be enjoyed by anyone in the world who chooses, and Japaneseness as phantasm: an illusion obliterated by globalism, perhaps to be recreated anew.’’ This metaphorical grouping of fence, flavor, and phantasm provides a useful framework for consideration of how Japanese composers view their objectives in composing for the wind band idiom (Fig. 9.5). Due to the use of Western instruments, it would seem to be rather difficult for any Japanese band composer to maintain a stringent ‘‘fence’’ perspective toward Japanese wind band music, but there are many indications that the Japanese band tradition has become so firmly entrenched and self-sufficient that the artistic input of non-Japanese has gradually come to be viewed as less relevant. As mentioned earlier, even the AJBA Director asserted that ‘‘bands have become a Japanese thing,’’ and there seem to be ample data in support of this position. The distinction between Mathews’ categories of ‘‘flavor’’ and ‘‘phantasm’’ may be a rather interesting dichotomy to consider in relation to the approaches of Japanese band composers. Some composers, most notably Isao Matsushita and Tetsunosuke Kushida, consider it important to communicate ‘‘Japaneseness’’

FENCE Retain & preserve Japanese culture

FLAVOR Western forms enhanced by Japanese elements

-Amano

-Ito -Mashima -Hoshina

-Kushida -Matsushita

Fig. 9.5 ‘‘Japaneseness’’ in music of band composers

PHANTASM Expression of cultural identity unnecessary & antiquated

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through their wind music pieces, which entails a kind of position that may be located somewhere between ‘‘fence’’ and ‘‘flavour’’ (Fig. 9.5). Others, such as Masamichi Amano seem to have very little interest in Japanese identity, and even appear to question why this should be an issue in the contemporary world, which places them more on the side of ‘‘phantasm’’. Most composers, such as Toshio Mashima and Yasuhide Ito, appear to be located somewhere in the middle, mostly within the ‘‘flavour’’ category, because they purposefully include some references to Japanese music culture in many of their wind band pieces, but not necessarily in large doses, and not even necessarily in all of their works. Kyo-En Festival. Since 1998, an annual festival entitled Kyo-En has been offered for new wind band works by Japanese composers, and across a decade this event has helped to solidify the emergence of a tradition of Japanese wind band music.13 Over the years, many new pieces by Japanese wind band composers have been premiered at this unique event. The 10th Kyo-En was held on March 18, 2007 at the Tokyo Metropolitan Art Space Main Hall. Guest conductors at this most recent event included American band directors Ray E. Cramer (Indiana University) and Linda Moorhouse (Louisiana State University), while the featured soloist was the Concertmaster of the Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra, saxophonist Nobuya Sugawa. The ‘‘21st Century Wind Music Executive Committee’’ was credited as the event’s sponsor.14 This committee has developed an ‘‘Organizational Philosophy’’ for the Kyo-En Festival as follows: Recently we can see great development in the wind music of Japan. Pioneered after European culture of the latter nineteen century, during the early Meiji era, wind band has been evolving and improving for more than one hundred years. In particular, current school band activities are quite remarkable. It has been said that Japan’s school band clubs represent the world’s highest level in terms of quality and participation. We also see that many wonderful municipal and amateur bands, sharing the adult joy of wind music, are expanding in various ways every year. However, recognition and appreciation from society in general is not high enough, and cooperation amongst composers, performers and publishers is still inadequate. We are going to address the following concepts by organizing ‘‘The Executive Committee for 21st Century Wind Music,’’ which shall promote activities for the continued development of Japan’s wind music. In comparison with societal standing in Europe, wind band is not as well recognized in Japan. We will develop a unique wind music world comparable to that of orchestral and chamber music. We understand that new Japanese composition, suitable to any tastes, is not well known to the public. We are going to create and promote wind repertoire to be widely accepted and performed beyond the category of so-called modern music. We plan to introduce to the public not only new editions, but also lesser known music. We are going to encourage communication between these three groups for excellent wind music to be better presented to the general public. The above considerations are the main points of 21st Century Wind Music Executive Committee.15

Readers may notice that the English usage in this position statement is a bit unusual, yet the meaning of its content is relatively clear. There are, however, some interesting points that call for further discussion. Specifically, some claims are questionable and appear to derive more from an agenda of promoting Japanese band music than a desire to disseminate accurate information. For example, while the assertion that ‘‘recognition and appreciation from society in

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general is not high enough, and cooperation amongst composers, performers and publishers is still inadequate’’ cannot necessarily be disproven, it seems difficult to identify any other nation in which such high levels of recognition and cooperation favorable to wind bands have ever been so evident as in contemporary Japan. The claim that ‘‘In comparison with societal standing in Europe, wind band is not as well recognized in Japan’’ is quite disputable if this is meant to suggest that wind bands have not been as enthusiastically embraced in Japan as in Europe. Kyo-En’s assertion that ‘‘We will develop a unique wind music world comparable to that of orchestral and chamber music’’ seems to accurately describe the situation that has already been developing in Japan across recent decades. In other words, this ‘‘Organizational Philosophy’’ appears to advocate the agenda of Japanese wind composers as well as assert the status quo as though it is an attainable objective for the future rather than a contemporary reality. The old adage ‘‘the grass is always greener’’ might appear to apply here, as it could be concluded from this statement that many Japanese band composers feel inadequately supported despite enjoying what in international comparative perspective would appear to be among the very highest levels of support for their work. However, as this study demonstrates, Japanese wind band composers have good reason to feel ill-supported by both academia and the educational system, yet it is this very absence of support from within educational institutions that has led to many of their needs being met by the private sector.16 Although a rather critical eye has been used in this probing interpretation of its ‘‘Organizational Philosophy’’, this should not detract from the undeniable fact that Kyo-En is serving a unique and important role in the field of Japanese wind music composition.

9.6 Themes from Kyo-En Series of Japanese Wind Compositions In their wind band compositions, Japanese composers featured in the series of sound recordings produced by Kyo-En often make use of themes from Japanese literature, such as memorable haiku by Basho (as in Toshio Mashima’s ‘‘Five Okinawan Songs for Band’’), and famous stories by Kenji Miyazawa (e.g. wind band works by composers Tomohiro Tatebe and Hirokazu Fukushima). Religious themes are also common, with images from Shinto (e.g. Tetsunosuke Kushida’s ‘‘Foojin-Ryjin’’ and Yohsuke Fukuda’s ‘‘Kagura for Band’’), Buddhism (Masamichi Amano’s ‘‘Yuga Gyoucyu gan-azuma’’ and Itaru Sakai’s ‘‘Great Buddha and Deer’’), and even Christianity (e.g. Yasuhide Ito’s ‘‘Liturgica Sinfonica,’’ Yo Goto’s ‘‘Lachrymae,’’ and Takamasa Sakai’s ‘‘Jeanne d’Arc Poem for Wind Orchestra’’). Themes of national remembrance are also notable in such pieces as Toshinari Iijima’s ‘‘August 6, 1945: Never Forget Hiroshima,’’ and prominent national symbols often serve as inspiration for programmatic pieces (e.g. Koichi Sugimoto’s ‘‘Sakura March,’’ Toshiaki Matsuki’s ‘‘Mujin no Ishi,’’ Yoshio Nakahashi’s ‘‘Cherry trees in the unconscious for symphonic

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band,’’ Shin’ya Takahashi’s ‘‘Great Wave: 36 Views of Mt. Fuji,’’ and Toshio Mashima’s compositions ‘‘The Glowing Sun Appeared on the Horizon,’’ ‘‘La Danse du Phenix: Impression de Kyoto,’’ and ‘‘Les Trois Notes du Japon’’).17 The calendar date that serves as a title for Iijima’s piece is when an atomic bomb ended the lives of thousands of Japanese civilians, while cherry tree and cherry blossom images are deeply symbolic of Japanese identity, as is the nation’s most famous landmark (of which the ‘‘36 views’’ refers to a renowned series of paintings by Hokusai). Another piece entitled ‘‘Mujin no ishi’’ evokes an image from the Kimigayo national anthem, while use of the image ‘‘sun on the horizon’’ is also symbolic of the emperor and national identity as indicated by Japan’s flag. A list of Kyo-En band pieces that are explicitly based on melodies from local festivals would surely be too long to include here, for it seems likely that the majority of Japanese composers have arranged such melodies in at least some part of their band works. The Kyo-En festivals have enabled a greater sense of community to develop among Japanese wind band composers and have raised public awareness of their contributions in Japan, and to some degree internationally as well. Ethnomusicologist Stephen Blum has observed that Perceptions of cultural distance can take many forms, and the only way to avoid false consciousness of ‘cultural purity’ is to examine the transactions through which individuals and groups reproduce cultural knowledge. We begin to understand what people mean by ‘culture’ when we hear them arguing about it – comparing one culture with another, or with something they refuse to regard as culture.18

There are many lessons to learn from the life stories and perspectives of Japanese wind band composers, but perhaps even more importantly, there is an enormous amount of outstanding new music to enjoy, much of which has received very little attention outside of Japan.19 As musicians and educators learn more about the remarkable accomplishments of Japanese bands it is likely that more of this new music will come to be heard and even loved far beyond the borders of this distant archipelago.

Notes 1. See Hebert (2001b) for discussion of Yasuhide Ito’s life and works. 2. See Neidig (1978), p. 36. 3. Both the musical score (Adachi, 2002a) and professional recordings (Adachi, 2002b) are publicly available for purchase. 4. Performances of each of these pieces were observed at all levels of the competition, and the scores for each piece were also obtained and analysed by the author. 5. This contest, which was attended by the author, took place on July 31st, 2002. 6. Both the musical score and recordings are publicly available (Koh, 2002a, 2002b, track 6). Judging by the composer’s name, Chang Su Koh is of Chinese ancestry, but since this is not mentioned in the composer profile, it can be surmised that he is a long-term minority resident of Japan. This point was eventually confirmed through discussions with Kushida and other composers.

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7. These statistics are taken from the popular Japanese language publication Band Journal, February, 2006, p. 48. 8. These statistics are taken from Band Journal, February, 2007, p. 42. 9. See Band Journal, February, 2007, p. 42. 10. In addition to numerous informal discussions with various Japanese band directors, band association leaders, and composers, several formal recorded interviews were conducted by the author, providing the data for much of this chapter. As described in Hebert (2001b), Hiroshi Hoshina was interviewed in the Chinatown of Kobe on December 6, 1998 following a telephone interview on November 27 of that year. Yasuhide Ito was interviewed in Tokyo during a Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra recording session on March 3, 1999 following interactions by telephone and fax on March 16, 1998. Hajime Suzuki was interviewed at the national headquarters of the Japan Salvation Army Bands in Tokyo on January 5, 2007. Isao Matushita was interviewed in his office at Tokyo University of the Arts and Music on January 9, 2007. Toshio Mashima was interviewed at a restaurant in Tokyo on December 30, 2006. Masamichi Amano was interviewed at his residence in Kunitachi on January 9, 2007. Toshio Akiyama was interviewed at his residence in Omiya on January 5, 2007. Tetsunosuke Kushida was interviewed at a restaurant in Kyoto on November 20, 2007. 11. See Gladwell (2007), p. 247. 12. See Mathews (2004), p. 336. Stephens has suggested that ‘‘ ‘Japanese-ness’ is not necessarily limited to musical aspects such as modulation and instrumentation but also entails ideologies of cultural and even intercultural identity, positioned against a dominant Western viewpoint’’ (Stephens, 2008, p. 11). The historical context of this notion must also be considered, as Groemer (2004) has shown that the concept of ‘‘Japanese music’’ did not even fully arise until the twentieth century. See Donahue (2002) for discussion of how the construct ‘‘Japaneseness’’ has been systematically examined in various fields. 13. Detailed information regarding the first five Kyo-En festivals is available on a single website (Kyo-En, n.d.). 14. See Yamaha Symphonic Band (n.d.). 15. See Kyo-En 21st Century Wind Music Executive Committee (n.d.). 16. This explanation may seem counterintuitive, but similar patterns have also been seen in other areas of music in Japan. Similarly, Hideo Saito ironically saw great opportunity in the fact that Japan lacked a tradition of conducting. (Akira Takeda, personal communication in Tokyo, 2007, June 15). Eventually, Saito’s students would include Seiji Ozawa and many others (Saito, 1988). While the Ministry of Education policies have not advocated for school band classes, they have strongly encouraged all schools to buy instruments for school bands and other ensembles despite the fact that music teachers are not officially trained in how to teach such instruments (Tanaka, 1998, pp. 226–227). 17. Traditional Japanese notions of spirituality and cultural identity are clearly emphasized as themes in much of this music. See Matsunobu (2007) for related discussion. 18. See Blum (1994), p. 255. 19. Bravo Music is the most notable distributor of Japanese wind band sheet music, recordings, and videotapes for markets outside of Japan (http://www.bravomusicinc.com).

References Adachi, T. (2002a). ‘Rapsodia’ for band. In Full scores: 2002 required pieces for All-Japan Band Association competition. Tokyo: All-Japan Band Association. Adachi, T. (2002b). ‘Rapsodia’ for band. In All Japan 2002 Band competition, volume 2, Middle school division CD recording. Location: Recorded live at Fumon Hall. Victor Entertainment, Inc., Japan.

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Blum, S. (1994). Conclusion: Music in an age of cultural confrontation. In M. J. Kartomi & S. Blum (Eds.), Music cultures in contact: Convergences and collisions (pp. 255–277). Basel: Gordon and Breach. Donahue, R. T. (2002). Guideposts for exploring Japaneseness. In R. T. Donahue (Ed.), Exploring Japaneseness: On Japanese enactments of culture and consciousness (pp. 3–28). Westport, CT: Greenwood Publishing. Gladwell, M. (2007). Blink: The power of thinking without thinking. Boston: Back Bay Books. Groemer, G. (2004). The rise of ‘Japanese music’. The World of Music, 46(2), 9–33. Hebert, D. G. (2001b). Hoshina and Ito: Japanese wind band composers. Journal of Band Research, 37(1), 61–77. Koh, C. S. (2002a). Lament for wind orchestra. In Full scores: 2002 required pieces for AllJapan Band Association competition. Tokyo: All-Japan Band Association. Koh, C. S. (2002b). Lament for wind orchestra. In All Japan 2002 band competition, volume 4, Middle school division CD recording. Location: Recorded live at Fumon Hall. Victor Entertainment, Inc., Japan. Kyo-En. (n.d.). Kyo-En. Retrieved January 9, 2007, from http://www.ne.jp/asahi/21c/wind-1/ Kyo-En 21st Century Wind Music Executive Committee. (n.d.). Organizational philosophy. Retrieved January 9, 2007, from http://www.asahi-net.or.jp/MJ2T-IIJM/english/Executive/21C02.htm Mathews, G. (2004). Fence, flavor, and phantasm: Japanese musicians and the meaning of ‘Japaneseness.’ Japanese Studies, 24(3), 335–350. Matsunobu, K. (2007). Japanese spirituality and music practice: Art as self-cultivation. In L. Bresler (Ed.), International handbook of research in arts education (pp. 1425–1438). Dordrecht: Springer. Neidig, K. L. (1978). School bands in Japan. The Instrumentalist, 33(3), 36. Saito, H. (1988). The Saito conducting method (W. J. Toews, Trans.). Tokyo: Ongakuno Tomosha and Min-On Concert Association. Stephens, C. S. (2008). Japanese popular music: Culture, authenticity, and power. London: Routledge. Tanaka, K. (1998). Denshigakki Sangyoron [A history of the electronic musical instrument industry]. Tokyo: Kobunsha. Yamaha Symphonic Band. (n.d.). Concert reports. Retrieved January 9, 2007, from http:// www.yamaha.co.jp/english/corporation/symphonicband/report/index.html#070318

Chapter 10

Leadership and Duty in the Ensemble

鬼のいぬ間の洗濯 Onino inumano sentaku ‘‘While the cat is away the mice will play’’

Anthropologists and other social scientists have noted that advertising entails a rich form of discourse that provides important cultural insights, and one television commercial observed repeatedly in the early months of 2003 seems to speak volumes regarding how school bands are perceived in Japan. The advertisement was for a juku (tutoring program, or ‘‘cram school’’) called Shinken Zemi. The purpose of such establishments is to serve as supplemental education for Japanese middle and high school students, particularly in preparation for stringent school entrance examinations. This brief advertisement begins with an image of a young girl in her school uniform talking with her mother in a domestic setting. The mother simply asks, ‘‘how is your homework going?,’’ but the daughter dodges the question with a hasty reply, ‘‘Please, mother! I have my own way.’’ The mother gives an exasperated facial expression in response, and the image immediately shifts to the next scene, where the daughter is seen joining her girlfriends, all of whom are clad in school uniforms, holding wind band instruments. They smile and enthusiastically greet her as she approaches them. At this point, the name of the juku is displayed and a narrator quickly explains the benefits of their program. Previous research comparing the reception of advertising among adolescent girls in Japan and USA has shown that ‘‘advertising may be seen as a cultural force that continually shapes and reinforces the values around us.’’1 Although the advertisement described here lasts for only about 20 s, it effectively demonstrates some important trends and stereotypes regarding school band participation in Japan. All the school band members shown in the advertisement (a total of four) are girls. The mother expresses interest in her daughter’s academic work, but not in band. The daughter is determined to play in the band along with her friends, and the brusque character of her retort to the mother’s question suggests that she feels she has the situation under control, and it is pointless to explain further to a mother who cannot possibly understand her D.G. Hebert, Wind Bands and Cultural Identity in Japanese Schools, 171 Landscapes: the Arts, Aesthetics, and Education 9, DOI 10.1007/978-94-007-2178-4_10, Ó Springer ScienceþBusiness Media B.V. 2012

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world. The narrator offers the juku as a kind of mediation for what is apparently a common predicament, suggesting that their services will enable the mother to ensure her daughter is succeeding in her academic work.

10.1 Parental Involvement The role of parents within a Japanese school band differs significantly from Western models of effective musical learning.2 The element of parental involvement – emphasized as crucially important in such studies – appears to have surprisingly little relevance in the case of Japanese school bands which tend to mostly be led by students. For example, researchers have determined that the influence of parents and older siblings provides the strongest source of motivation for joining ensembles in North American school music programs.3 Contrarily, Japanese students have frequently indicated that they joined band because they realized in the first few weeks of school that band is the activity that most of their friends were joining. In the Ishikawa Middle School Band, parents play almost no part whatsoever, as all administrative decisions were made among students (with Kato Sensei’s guidance) at the school, and individual practice is confined to the school context rather than delegated to private homes where students and parents reside. Still, parents are supportive in terms of the financial obligations of band participation, as will be explained later in the ‘‘band budget’’ section. During the entire fieldwork process, although parents enthusiastically attended all public concerts, no parents were ever seen visiting school band rehearsals, and the young band members appeared to never openly discuss their parents. Rather, school band seems to be a domain where Japanese middle school students can act as young adults in a world of their own. Particularly because students run the organization and are not expected to practice their instruments at home, it is not necessary for parents to play an active role in Japanese school bands. It is interesting to note how completely different this model is from the Suzuki Method – the only Japanese approach to music education to be popularized in the West thus far – for which the relationship between child and mother is strongly emphasized, student mentorship plays little or no role, and learning is highly systematic and sequentially structured, typically entailing steps applied universally to an entire cohort of students performing in unison.

10.2 Responsibilities of a School Music Teacher The Japanese school music teacher’s schedule is extremely taxing, particularly for those who are expected to conduct a school band club. When asked about her typical week at the Ishikawa Middle School, Kato Sensei explained that she is able to do very little outside of school-related obligations, as typically over

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75 h/week are spent on classroom music teaching, faculty meetings, band activities, and transportation to and from the Ishikawa Middle School. Other research has similarly determined that Japanese teachers ‘‘must work extremely long hours, often 70 h/week.’’4 Kato Sensei explained her class schedule as follows: Each day we offer six classes, and I teach in four out of the six class periods. So, I teach first-year students for one class and also prepare their choir for the festival. I also teach all the second-year students once a week and all the third-year students once a week, then also during the elective hour.

Kato Sensei confirmed that all middle school students are required to take a music course, but added that ‘‘those who have additional interest in music can come during the elective time. For second-year students that is twice a week and for third-years it is also twice a week. So, for example, third-year students can come to the elective music course as well as the required course and receive 3 h of music instruction per week.’’ She explained that the content of such academic music classes in Japan is ‘‘pretty much the same anywhere you go. Chorus is popular, and then recorder, then appreciation classes. The student clubs, which begin at 4 o’clock, are an entirely different world.’’ Band schedule. The rehearsal schedule of a Japanese school band is often quite unlike that of its American counterpart. On a typical week, the Ishikawa Middle School Band rehearses for a total of 20.5 h, which questionnaires have determined to be a rather typical schedule among award-winning Japanese school bands. On each weekday, starting at 3:30 P.M., the students begin to set-up the band room, warm-up individually, and tune their instruments. At 4 P.M. Kato Sensei usually arrives to direct the band, and the rehearsal concludes at 6 P.M. On most Saturdays, the band typically rehearses for 8 h: from 10 A.M. to 6 P.M. But that is not all. At various points in the year, Sunday rehearsals are also introduced, and the rehearsal time may exceed 25 h/week. Prior to competitions and other important performances (during ‘‘vacation’’ time, when academic classes are not offered), Ishikawa Middle School band members rehearsed 8 h/day, everyday, including both Saturday and Sunday. In Japan, school band schedules are notorious for being particularly strenuous. Wilds wrote that in Japanese schools there are ‘‘a dozen or so holidays during the regular school year, plus a month in summer, a week in winter and 2 week long vacations in spring; but I have seen many students in the schools every day of the year including Sundays. This is regularly true for members of the brass band.’’5 In Rebecca Fukuzawa’s study of a Japanese middle school, she found that ‘‘The band meets every weekday for one and a half or 2 h or as much as most sports clubs.’’6 Miyamoto’s survey of band directors in Saitama indicated that 2–2.5 h/day may be a common middle school band rehearsal schedule on weekdays.7 Several Ishikawa Middle School students admitted that the intense schedule of band activities sometimes interfered with academic work, a concern also raised by various Japanese music scholars. Dana, one of the rival drummers

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(Chapter 7), told a long story about trying to prepare for an impending final exam while she was on the ‘‘bullet train’’ en route to a distant band event, and how she squeezed bits of study time in between breaks at the dress rehearsal. One of the tubists described how she sometimes kept a sheet of study notes on her music stand along with the sheet music, and that she would quickly look them over during moments of inactivity in the rehearsal. She assured me that she was very careful to keep these notes hidden from Kato Sensei. Still, these accounts need to considered in context, as students also frequently reported that their academic work was only rarely very challenging, that they had little homework, and that intense studying was only necessary prior to final exams. The Japanese academic year begins in April, ending in March of the following year. Kato Sensei described the band schedule as ‘‘all year long, and from April to July rehearsal for the competition is the main focus. Then, for our school, we do some marching from August to October. And, from November to March we do smaller ensembles, and practice for our concert, including jazz and kayoukyoku (popular music arrangements).’’ She also explained that the third-year students, in their final year of middle school, take a break from the school band from November to March in order to focus on studying for the high school entrance examinations, and then rejoin the group prior to the final concert of the year. During one interview, Kato Sensei suggested that the Japanese school band rehearsal schedule might seem excessive to outsiders. She remarked, ‘‘Americans, when they see our rehearsal schedule for vacation time, 9 A.M. to 6 or 7 P.M., they cannot imagine how we can possibly do that. What do you think? Are we crazy?’’ Attempting to be diplomatic, I merely replied, ‘‘Well, the point is you are able to do a great performance.’’ Band budget. Regarding Ishikawa Middle School band budget, Kato Sensei explained that ‘‘a certain percentage of expenses are covered by the school. From the budgets for music activities and band activities I am able to cover certain necessary expenses, and then there is the annual club fee of 10,000 yen/ student. From this we are able to buy sheet music and other materials.’’ This annual fee of 10,000 yen for an urban public middle school band amounts to less than USA $10 per month, and is considerably less than what is charged for band participation at elite private schools in the Tokyo area. Still, between all the band members, the combined intake of annual fees totaled nearly USA $6,000. Kato Sensei indicated that her school district paid the fees for membership, and participation, in the AJBA competition. When asked about fund-raising activities, Kato Sensei explained that she had found them to be ineffective in Tokyo, and had decided not to pursue them with her ensemble. Upon calculating the figures provided, it seemed that these annual student fees (USA $6,000) would still be insufficient to support the expenses of the Ishikawa Middle School band program, so I inquired further. At this point, Kato Sensei mentioned that the PTA (Parent-Teacher Association) keeps an additional budget and ‘‘is able to make payments approved from my requests’’ for instrument repairs and equipment purchases. She explained that the total budget enables her to buy approximately one large, expensive instrument per year (e.g. tuba,

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Inkai Management and Instrument Choice

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string bass, bassoon, timpani, etc.). Essentially, funding for the band came from three sources: student annual fees, the school district, and the PTA. The total intake from annual fees was inadequate to cover some of the largest expenses, but the district and PTA could often be relied on to provide some additional support for specific needs during most years.

10.3 Inkai Management and Instrument Choice Instrument choice is often a complex issue for band directors, who seek to negotiate a resolution between the personal interests of individual students and the inherent requirements of a balanced instrumental ensemble. The issue of instrument choice was examined through interviews with Kato Sensei and several Ishikawa Middle School band members. Students explained that ‘‘The Sempai and Sensei decide which instrument fits each of the band members.’’ This process occurs through use of inkai (closed-door committees), and may serve as early enculturation to Japanese-style organizational management. The inkai approach to management also seemed to exemplify the Japanese educational theme of ‘‘secrets, stages, hierarchy of study,’’8 as only senior students were permitted to participate in this secretive decision-making process. Kato Sensei explained, ‘‘The second year students determine what instruments are needed. After about 10 days of having the new students try out many different instruments, we have them take turns playing each one while the second year students evaluate by writing comments on cards. Then we call a meeting. I meet with the instrumental section leaders and determine how many students they want on each part. We consider balance and other issues. Sometimes the first year students are shocked that the instrument they are assigned is different from the one they had hoped for.’’ When asked, ‘‘Do you always fully explain the real reason [for the instrument assignments]?’’, Kato Sensei admitted, ‘‘Sometimes we do . . . but . . .’’ Here, we both laughed. I agreed, ‘‘Yes, this also has happened in the USA. Some American teachers give the real reason, about balance, but they used to say things like, ‘your face is a little bit different . . . so maybe tuba would be best’.’’ Kato Sensei explained further, ‘‘Yes, of course. Or else, the size of the body. Well, sometimes we want to just do that, but instead we have them try making sounds on each one first, go for three trials, and gradually reach the necessary consensus. Gradually they grow to like the instrument. We find that after the first year, they are no longer much interested in switching instruments.’’ Indeed, ample interview data demonstrated that the Japanese band members grew to like the instrument chosen for them, even students who had originally been strongly interested in a different instrument. According to Dana (one of the rival drummers), ‘‘At first I didn’t want to do percussion and was surprised when I was selected for drums. But eventually I realized when I looked at the

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wind players who always play just one instrument, that percussion is great because we play on a variety. It’s distinguished (medatsu) and cool (kakkoii), so I’m glad I do percussion.’’ Surprisingly, interviews with the Ishikawa Middle School students revealed that for many, gender stereotyping of band instruments (e.g. flute is for girls, trombone is for boys) had never even been considered, a finding that appears to contrast sharply with most European and American school bands.9

10.4 Moral Education Music educationists have observed that ‘‘Arts educators in countries such as Korea, Japan, and China, who have a foundation in Confucian philosophy, place much greater emphasis on the moral and spiritual role of the arts than their Western counterparts, their primary aim is to develop the character of pupils, and to lay the foundations for a ‘virtuous and joyful life’.’’10 According to Kitayama, music instruction has been largely subsumed within the field of moral education throughout much of its history in Japanese schools.11 The roots of Japanese moral education (doutoku kyoiku) may be traced to the traditional lessons offered by temple schools to their surrounding communities prior to the development of modern public school education. During the Meiji period, Western music was linked with moral education in modernized schools through the work of educational planners such as Isawa Shuji.12 Descriptions of moral education in Japanese schools are published in a number of academic journals, most notably the Journal of Moral Education. According to Japan’s 1989 national ‘‘Course of Study’’, the principles of moral education require that middle school students are taught to ‘‘be aware of oneself as a Japanese, and love one’s country, contribute to the advancement of the country, and strive for the continuation of valuable traditions.’’13 In recent decades, Japanese moral education has usually consisted of both a separate subject area (roughly the equivalent of a ‘‘Citizenship’’ unit in American schools), and as a theme integrated into various subjects throughout the school, much like how concepts such as ‘‘critical thinking’’ and ‘‘respect for diversity’’ have been infused into American schools across recent decades. Some moral lessons may take on even more subtle forms, for as Lamont has observed, ‘‘it is not the overt curriculum, but rather the form of schooling, or the messages transmitted as a result of its organization and practices, which is more powerfull.’’14 According to Luhmer, ‘‘the pendulum is swinging back toward a policy advocating a stronger realization that moral education in Japan should foster national pride and traditional values.’’15 Kato Sensei was asked about the role of moral education (doutoku kyoiku) in the Ishikawa Middle School band. She described it as, ‘‘to value friendships, and also to try one’s best to attain goals one has decided upon, to use effort, to

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not despair or give up.’’ Regarding the role of discipline, she explained that band may ‘‘eliminate weakness in self.’’ She explained further: Rehearsal is difficult, isn’t it? Every day, or almost every day, even on vacations from 9 A.M. to 5 P.M. It is terribly long hours, so normally one would want to quit, I guess. So, for this kind of club activity, kids see the students ahead of them trying hard, and they want to try their best too. Consequently, for three years they try very hard, so I think they develop a powerful strength of resolve.

From Kato Sensei’s statement one may recognize that the objectives of the school band rehearsals were often not exclusively to achieve musical excellence with maximum efficiency. To the contrary, it is seen as important for Japanese children to learn to endure long hours of struggle, in order to instill self-discipline. Anthropologist Gerald LeTendre also observed a ‘‘preoccupation with endurance’’ among Japanese middle school teachers who feel that ‘‘If young adolescents could not persevere at difficult tasks, they would not become successful adults.’’16 He noted that ‘‘in middle school the concern transfers to functioning as part of a chain of command. One learns to ‘endure’ hardships for the sake of the group and to follow the orders of seniors.’’17 Observations of the Ishikawa Middle School band provided further confirmation of LeTendre’s findings within the context of a specific kind of extracurricular club, the wind band.

10.5 Isshoukenmei: Giving One’s All The essence of Kato Sensei’s role in the school band was to guide students toward achievement through their greatest efforts, a responsibility that surely presents formidable challenges among the middle school aged population of any nation. However, it is clear that Kato Sensei’s role in this regard is understood and even appreciated by her students. Contents from the student-made concert program for the Ishikawa Middle School band’s final performance of the year provide an insightful glimpse into student perceptions of Kato Sensei, sentiments also supported by interview data. An amusing section entitled ‘‘Sensei Shokai’’ (Introducing the Teacher) is found on page 16, at the end of this concert program: Sensei Shokai. Kato Sensei owns two cats – she really loves cats! But if we play the ‘‘Hello Kitty Theme’’ on the piano she gets mad at us. When we rehearse she can be very strict, but she really cares about us. During large group rehearsals, when something funny happens or she uses strange examples, she makes us laugh. Occasionally she threw her baton at the clarinet section. But, the clarinet players also squirt out their spit, so it is a fair tie. We really like that Sensei. Now, as always, we will try our very best for her.

Here, the students as a group have acknowledged that Kato Sensei can be rather strict and does not always appreciate their immature antics, but they also mention that she is fair, that she really cares about them, and that they ‘‘really like’’ her and are determined to please her by doing their very best. Indeed, there were many

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indications that the majority of band students both loved Kato Sensei and genuinely feared disappointing her, which seemed to suggest a mature understanding of the complex demands associated with her multiple roles: nurturing teacher and counsellor, yet simultaneously a serious and insistent bandmaster. Research among Western conductors has demonstrated that leadership skills are essential to success as a conductor, but that ‘‘there is no single correct style of leadership.’’18 Cultural psychologists have asserted that ‘‘in Japan a leader who is both demanding and personally caring is most effective regardless of the task or the population examined.’’19 Kato Sensei’s leadership style entailed both a demanding podium persona, and off-stage, a humorous and empathetic personality. This irony was complex and difficult to make sense of early in the fieldwork process. Yet, an ability to negotiate conflicting roles is considered by some scholars to be essential for effective social interaction in Japan.20 Among Western high school band directors, Caimi found a relationship between indicators of success as a performing ensemble and deficiencies in directors’ concern for non-performance aspects of student development. Interestingly, directors whose bands were less successful in competitions appeared to exhibit more concern overall for their students’ well-being.21 However, this description contrasts with Kato Sensei’s case, as she demonstrated equally deep concern for the Ishikawa Middle School band members’ well-being and for the organization’s success as a performing ensemble. In fact, Kato Sensei expressed the wish that she could do even more to help her students. During one interview she remarked that ‘‘All we have is 3 years with them. It passes by so quickly. If we had 6 years with them, I am certain we could see their sound change completely, but in 3 years there are always new faces coming in. It can be saddening, as it is such a difficult challenge.’’22 When asked to describe her principal objectives for the band, and the main points she wanted students to learn, Kato Sensei replied, ‘‘Ways to express themselves on instruments is one, also to love music, how to cooperate and make friends and take care of each other. So, of course they are to learn technique, but not just that, I think it is a necessary strength of club activities to learn about human development, and I wish for the end result.’’ Clearly, cooperation was a fundamental goal of participation in the middle school band. It was also clear that Kato Sensei modeled, through commitment to her job, how students should embrace life by devoting all of oneself with a spirit of ‘‘ishoukenmei’’.

Notes 1. See Maynard (2002), p. 416. Also, see Rohlen and LeTendre (1998) for discussion of rigorous preparation in ‘‘cram schools’’ for Japanese school entrance examinations. 2. See Hallam (2002) and McPherson (2001). 3. See Adderley, Kennedy, and Berz (2003).

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4. See Wilds (1993), p. 65. Interestingly, previous research has determined that despite the appearance of some statistics ‘‘the figure spent on actual academic class time’’ may be similar between schools in Japan and the USA, yet in Japan, ‘‘the longer year may contribute to greater achievement not because of more time spent on academic activities but because of an emphasis on nonacademic activities that are deemed insignificant or ‘soft’ subjects in U.S. educational thought’’ (Saito, 2004, p. 89). 5. See Wilds (1993), p. 62. 6. Fukuzawa (1990), p. 367. 7. See Miyamoto (2003). 8. See DeCoker (1998) for description of these themes across various domains of educational activity in Japan. 9. See Conway (2000) for a recent discussion of research in this area. 10. Hargreaves, Marshall, and North (2003), p. 156. 11. This is discussed in Kitayama (1990). 12. See Eppstein (1985). 13. Iwawa (1992), p. 15. 14. Lamont (2002), p. 46. 15. Luhmer (1990), p. 179. 16. LeTendre (2000), p. 181. 17. LeTendre (1998), pp. 278–279. Also see Cave (2004). 18. Vallo (1990), p. 14. 19. Markus and Kitayama (1991), p. 241. 20. See Markus and Kitayama (1991). 21. Caimi (1981). 22. It should be noted that ethics and aesthetics have long been closely linked in Japanese philosophical tradition, and are generally regarded to entail related kinds of values in many sectors of contemporary Japanese society (Saito, 2007). This tendency is surely also a factor in the close relationship between the aims of ‘‘moral education’’ and ‘‘music education’’ throughout the history of school music programs in Japan.

References Adderley, C., Kennedy, M., & Berz, W. (2003). ‘‘A home away from home’’: The world of the high school music classroom. Journal of Research in Music Education, 51(3), 190–205. Caimi, J. F. (1981). Relationships between motivational variables and selected criterion measures of high school band directing success. Journal of Research in Music Education, 29, 183–198. Cave, P. (2004). Bukatsudo: The educational role of Japanese school clubs. Journal of Japanese Studies, 30(2), 383–415. Conway, C. (2000). Gender and musical instrument choice: A phenomenological investigation. Bulletin of the Council for Research in Music Education, 146, 1–17. DeCoker, G. (1998). Seven characteristics of a traditional Japanese approach to learning. In J. Singleton (Ed.), Learning in likely places: Varieties of apprenticeship in Japan (pp. 68–83). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Eppstein, U. (1985). Musical instruction in Meiji education: A study of adaptation and assimilation. Monumenta Nipponica, 40(1), 1–37. Fukuzawa, R. E. (1990). Stratification, social control, and student culture: An ethnography of three Japanese junior high schools. Doctoral dissertation, Northwestern University. Hallam, S. (2002). Musical motivation: Towards a model synthesizing the research. Music Education Research, 4(2), 225–244.

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Hargreaves, D. J., Marshall, N. A., & North, A. C. (2003). Music education in the twenty-first century: A psychological perspective. British Journal of Music Education, 20(2), 147–163. Iwawa, N. (1992). Postconventional reasoning and moral education in Japan. Journal of Moral Education, 21(1), 3–16. Kitayama, A. (1990). Historical changes in the objectives of Japanese music education. Quarterly Journal of Music Teaching and Learning, 1(4), 32–37. Lamont, A. (2002). Musical identities and the school environment. In R. A. R. MacDonald, D. J. Hargreaves, & D. E. Miell (Eds.), Musical identities (pp. 41–59). Oxford: Oxford University Press. LeTendre, G. K. (1998). Shido: The concept of guidance. In T. Rohlen & G. LeTendre (Eds.), Teaching and learning in Japan (pp. 275–294). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. LeTendre, G. K. (2000). Learning to be adolescent: Growing up in U.S. and Japanese middle schools. New Haven: Yale University Press. Luhmer, K. (1990). Moral education in Japan. Journal of Moral Education, 19(3). Markus, H. R., & Kitayama, S. (1991). Culture and the self: Implications for cognition, emotion, and motivation. Psychological Review, 98, 224–253. Maynard, M. L. (2002). Projecting peer approval in advertising: Japan versus U.S. Seventeen magazine. In R. T. Donahue (Ed.), Exploring Japaneseness: On Japanese enactments of culture and consciousness (pp. 413–424). Westport, CT: Greenwood Publishing. McPherson, G. E. (2001, August 23–26). Factors affecting the development of instrumental performance skills during the beginning stages of development. In Proceedings of the 3rd Asia-Pacific symposium for music education research (pp. 20–25). Nagoya: Aichi Arts Centre. Miyamoto, Y. (2003). Sukuurubando genjouto sonokaiketsusakuwo motomete: Kyouzai toshiteno suisougakkyokuno kenkyuto sonokeitoudzuke [The status quo of school bands and search for a plan of resolution: Research on band instructional pieces and their organization] (pp. 172–181). Unpublished manuscript. Rohlen, T., & LeTendre, G. (1998). Conclusion: Themes in the Japanese culture of learning. In T. Rohlen & G. LeTendre (Eds.), Teaching and learning in Japan (pp. 369–376). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Saito, N. E. (2004). Inside Japanese classrooms: The heart of education. New York: RoutledgeFalmer. Saito, Y. (2007). The moral dimension of Japanese aesthetics. Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism, 65(1), 85–97. Vallo, V. (1990). Conducting and music education: A review of selected research. Update: Applications of Research on Music Teaching and Learning, 9(1), 13–16. Wilds, A. (1993). Japan’s art teachers: An ethnographic study of their instructional practices and educational beliefs. Doctoral dissertation, University of Minnesota.

Chapter 11

Cooperative Learning and Mentorship in Band

習うより慣れよ Narau yori nareyo ‘‘Practice makes perfect’’

After the group of trumpeters had spent about 10 min of independent ‘‘doodling’’, Yumiko would walk to the front of the classroom, set down her sheet music and a metronome and start pounding on the teacher’s podium to get the attention of the others: ‘‘Bam, bam, bam . . . ka-bang!’’ ‘‘Everyone, quiet down! It’s time to begin now,’’ she would call out.

It was time for the trumpet section of the Ishikawa Middle School Band to start its paatore sectional rehearsals. Yumiko had quite an extraverted and energetic personality, an athletic figure and a friendly smile. As an elder Sannensei she certainly seemed more mature than the other members of her section, and in the role of section leader Yumiko was extremely serious and demanding. Upon obtaining attention and silence from her section, Yumiko would immediately require her section members to take out a particular piece: ‘‘Swan Lake . . . get ready to play the second system on page 2’’. Yumiko was consistently concerned with rhythm. She often used a metronome, and when a metronome was not available she would establish a pulse by loudly banging her hand, or a ruler, on a desk. Once a pulse was established, Yumiko would count out the piece: ‘‘One, two, three.’’ As her section played through a particular part, Yumiko would keep beating the pulse, while simultaneously listening to their playing, and making immediate comments. Eventually she would stop the players. ‘‘No, no! You need to tongue harder. And some of you don’t have the rhythm right,’’ she would explain. Often Yumiko provided models for the section by either singing their parts or playing them by herself on her trumpet. In a nearby room, the Bucho (band club leader), who was also section leader for the trombones, took an approach to leadership that differed from that used by Yukiko. While she sometimes had her section play through parts all together, the Bucho more often directed her players to work in pairs, and D.G. Hebert, Wind Bands and Cultural Identity in Japanese Schools, 181 Landscapes: the Arts, Aesthetics, and Education 9, DOI 10.1007/978-94-007-2178-4_11, Ó Springer ScienceþBusiness Media B.V. 2012

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would move from one dyad to another in order to monitor their progress. Listening also played an important role in the Bucho’s paatore, to which she often brought a portable CD player. On several occasions, I observed the trombone section sitting in a circle, listening to recordings, and discussing the sounds in detail. Sometimes these recordings were CDs of professional ensembles performing the same music that they were currently struggling with, but other times the recordings were of the trombone section’s own playing. The Bucho was especially concerned with ensuring that the trombonists listened carefully to one another, with particular attention to tone, pitch, blend and balance.

11.1 Tutoring One’s Kohai Cooperative learning and mentorship via peer tutoring are institutionalized practices within Japanese school bands that appear to play a particularly important role in terms of facilitating efficient and effective music learning. According to an MENC publication, ‘‘Cooperative learning is the term for instructional strategies in which students work together, sharing ideas, information, and resources, as they progress toward identified goals.’’1 Kaplan and Stauffer determined that a major impetus for this approach is the premise that ‘‘Through cooperative learning strategies, the focus of living and learning can be shifted from glorification of the individual (competition) to the success of the group (cooperation).’’2 Furthermore, the idealized objectives of cooperative learning are highlighted by the notion that ‘‘the most successful cooperative learning strategies are those in which academic and social goals are interactive. Cooperative learning encourages mutual assistance and is dependent upon students’ abilities to relate to one another as they work in small groups.’’3 Peer tutoring is a learning strategy closely associated with cooperative learning, and research has also demonstrated its effectiveness for musical studies. Alexander and Dorow’s studies of peer tutoring reached the conclusion that Significant benefits accrue for the tutee, especially when the tutor used approval techniques. Also the activity of tutoring benefits the tutor as much as having a weekly class lesson. Indications are that the tutoring benefits come from any or all of the following: (a) opportunity to respond, (b) the provision of a model at each step of the learning process, and (c) individuation of tasks and consequences.4

Peer tutoring may decrease competitive attitudes, helping students to ‘‘view classmates as partners in, rather than as obstacles or threats to, future success.’’5 The theories of Lev Vygotsky, a Russian psychologist who taught at Moscow State University,6 are particularly influential in the field of peer tutoring.7 Vygotsky found that learning proceeded most naturally through the guidance of older peers who ‘‘scaffold’’ the learning process for the benefit of newcomers. As introduced in the ‘‘rehearsal ritual’’ description (Chapter 4), the paatore rehearsals take on various forms, depending upon the leadership style of each

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Transmission Through Transcription

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section leader. Some section leaders tend to ‘‘micro-manage’’ their Kohai, as each plays individually through various challenging sections. Others prefer unified rehearsals, guiding all members in playing together through problematic sections of the sheet music. Still others take a more passive role, as an advisor merely available for consultation, if any section members should have concerns. Band members learn instruments directly from older peers within the paatore sectional rehearsals. This mentorship process will be described in this chapter, including how concepts are transmitted between generations of student band members, how relationships, objectives, and practices are defined through language use, and how student leadership is developed within this context.

11.2 Transmission Through Transcription Along with their instruments and sheet music, Ishikawa Middle School band members brought multi-colored pencils, pens, and highlighter markers to the paatore, where they were extensively used for marking the sheet music. Many students wrote fingerings and/or solfege above the individual notes in their sheet music. Solfege was indicated through use of Japanese script (Fig. 11.1). Ishikawa Middle School band members marked their most heavilyrehearsed pieces with remarkable detail, writing personal reminders in various colors within each measure of notation, to the point that each sheet would resemble a work of abstract art. The content of such markings covered a broad spectrum of concerns: reminders to follow the conductor and part leaders, issues concerning the instrument, specific bodily movements, abstract spatial metaphors, and aesthetic notions. When discussed with various Japanese band directors, such techniques were determined to be rather common among such bands. Ironically, some of the methods transmitted through generations of students within the Ishikawa Middle School band may also be relatively ineffective. The method of tuning (described in the Section 4.1.1) appears to contradict many Western approaches. Some experts have suggested that ensemble conductors should ‘‘demand that [players] tune as quietly as possible,’’8 yet students played their instruments at a high volume when tuning in the Japanese band. Other procedures of the chuuningu ritual are discouraged by renowned Eastman Wind Ensemble Director Donald Hunsberger, who disparagingly described the stereotypical band director who ‘‘stands at the door with a tuner and says ‘high’ or ‘low’ as each student comes by and sounds a note. Ludicrous!’’9 Despite some possible shortcomings, cooperative learning and peer-tutoring methods certainly have some important advantages, as institutionalized within

Fig. 11.1 Solfege in Japanese Katakana script

Do

Re

Mi

Fa

So

La

Ti

Do

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Japanese bands. Perhaps the sense of community that develops through this process is more important than the effectiveness of specific learning strategies. Students become socialized into the band culture through interactions with their mentors, and as a sense of ‘‘ownership’’ and community develops, they become more inspired to devote great efforts to the organization.

11.3 Learning the Lingo On one occasion, just prior to the start of paatore (sectional rehearsal), several Ishikawa Middle School trumpet players had gathered in a classroom and were taking out their instruments and sheet music. A Sempai began explaining to some younger students (her Kohai) about another student who had been having a problem with her ‘‘kura’’. Then one of the Kohai interrupted to ask, ‘‘Huh? What’s a kuda?’’. ‘‘Baka!’’ (Dummy!), the elder student playfully struck the younger one on the forehead, adding a cartoonish ‘‘boing’’ sound for comic effect. ‘‘It’s ku-ra! Kura’s for clarinet. What did you think it was?’’ ‘‘I dunno,’’ the Kohai replied, looking slightly embarrassed. Everyone laughed, and the Sempai continued with her story. This example illustrates how younger students learn to ‘‘talk the talk’’ of the school band directly from their Sempai. Many Japanese do not know the meanings of the slang terms commonly used by school band members, and would need to be explained that ‘‘paatore’’, ‘‘petto’’, ‘‘yufo’’, and ‘‘basuto’’ refer to sectional rehearsal, trumpet, euphonium, and bass trombone, respectively. First year students in the Ishikawa Middle School strived to quickly increase their levels of conversational competence in the buraban zokugo (band slang) terminology, as this was perceived as indicative of having achieved the status of full membership in the ensemble. Keigo is the term used to indicate the formal Japanese language style used within the Ishikawa Middle School band by younger students as they spoke with older peers, particularly their section leaders, the Bucho, and Fukubucho. Keigo may be illustrated by describing two ways that a student might request a peer to make room for her to pass by: (1) in speaking to a younger Kohai the English equivalent would be something like, ‘‘Can ya let me by for a sec?’’ (‘‘Ne, chotto ii?’’); However, (2) in speaking to an older Sempai it would more closely resemble, ‘‘Pardon me, but would you be so kind as to allow me to pass?’’ (‘‘Ano, sumimasenga, shitsure itashimasu’’). While the two statements may serve identical functions, they clearly represent quite different degrees of formality. Institutionalized use of such contrasting levels of language served to provide constant reinforcement of rank concepts within the band. The peer tutoring system was institutionalized within the discourse of such hierarchical structures in the Ishikawa Middle School band. Band members learned to negotiate this system through the use of appropriate language among their peers.

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11.4 Instilling Perseverance Two of the key concepts associated with paatore sectional rehearsals (and often with gassou full band rehearsals as well) were ‘‘gambare’’ and ‘‘gamman’’. Gambare is translated as ‘‘to try one’s best’’ or ‘‘to give great effort’’. And gamman means ‘‘to endure’’ or ‘‘to persevere’’. Related to each of these terms are some even stronger phrases, also often heard in band rehearsals, though with slightly less frequency. ‘‘Isshoukenmei’’ means to devote all of oneself, or to gambare to an inconceivable extent, even to the point of self-sacrifice. Similarly, ‘‘kuro’’ is the term for pain, and ‘‘gokurosama’’ is a phrase commonly exchanged at the end of performances that literally means ‘‘thank you for your pains’’.10 Often at the end of especially lengthy rehearsals, particularly on weekends and holidays, the Ishikawa Middle School band members called out, ‘‘gokurosama’’ to each other as they prepared to leave the campus. Intense effort and perseverance through repeated and repeated drilling are highly valued practices both within school bands and in the field of Japanese education in general. Education in Japan tends to associate achievement more strongly with effort than ability.11 In her ethnography of Japanese middle school students, Fukuzawa observed that ‘‘Academic success, they believe derives primarily from efforts and only secondarily from ability. Therefore, it is difficult to blame anyone but themselves if they do not succeed.’’12 Ethnomusicologists have observed that musical talent is viewed quite differently in various cultures,13 yet within Western school music programs, the notion of ‘‘talent’’ tends to be consistently reified.14 According to cultural psychologists, among Japanese and in other societies that that generally emphasize interdependent subjectivity, achievement is viewed ‘‘not as a fixed attribute that one has a certain amount of, but instead as a product that can be produced by individual effort in a given social context.’’15 The theme of perseverance, rather than talent, also plays an important role in the image of Japanese professional musicians who are admired among their fans especially for overcoming great difficulties such as a complex childhood, academic challenges, or even disabilities of various kinds.16 Within the Ishikawa Middle School band, group effort through relentless repetition was viewed as a fundamental key to achievement.17 The school band members and their director believed that musical progress could only be attained through such intense drilling. ‘‘Nankaimo renshu shinakya’’ (must practice over and over again) was the common phrase used by both Kato Sensei and band members to explain how they improved their performance. Yet, devotion to drilling itself was also embraced as a holistically admirable human quality.18 During the final concert of the year, this value was demonstrated as graduating students were honored within the concert programs primarily for their ‘‘great efforts’’ and ‘‘determination’’. Observations of the Japanese school band seem to challenge Dweck’s claim that in Asian educational cultures ‘‘the emphasis on malleable intelligence and effort is often not

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accompanied by an emphasis on learning the enjoyment of challenge.’’19 To the contrary, in the band context, students were encouraged to develop an insatiable desire, even a love, of drilling musical phrases, again and again, toward the impossible goal of perfection. Drilling, while sometimes viewed in Western nations as a meaningless or even miserable exercise, may actually offer unparalleled benefits, which seems to be widely understood among Japanese school bands. In defense of repetitive practice as a learning strategy, Vernon Howard has offered a ‘‘plea for the dignity of drill.’’20 Howard observed that during intense drill sessions, learners may become ‘‘smoothly coordinated, absorbed, and focused through the repetitions in an almost trance-like way.’’21 He concluded that repetitive drills are ‘‘one of the most powerful, intelligent, imaginative means of learning at our disposal, enabling us to master the facilities required by advanced skills. By way of drill we not only learn by example and instruction, but also become examples of the very things we learn. One might even think of this as the existential predicament of practicing anything at all: you are what you learn to do routinely.’’22 Through participation in the band, under the careful supervision of their Sempai mentors, Ishikawa Middle School band members learned a broad spectrum of behaviors deemed appropriate for the band context.

11.5 Cooperative Mentorship and Autonomy Like most competitive school bands in Japan, the Ishikawa Middle School band consisted mostly of girls. In fact, the band had a 95% female membership, a ratio that is not unusual among such ensembles. During most rehearsals, only 2 boys were present among the 65–70 girls (depending upon how many girls were absent), which meant that the majority of paatore actually consisted of interactions managed entirely by young female adolescents.23 Previous research has suggested that during the middle school years, girls face a number of significant challenges in terms of self-identity and social interaction, as each becomes confronted with the inevitability of an impending adulthood. In her insightful study of American girls, psychologist Mary Pipher concluded that during adolescence her subjects experienced ‘‘pressure to split into true and false selves . . . the pressure comes not from parents but from the culture. Adolescence is when girls experience social pressure to put aside their authentic selves and to display only a small portion of their gifts.’’24 She also noted that ‘‘Girls are socialized to look to the world for praise and rewards, and this keeps them other-oriented and reactive.’’25 While Pipher concluded that such stifling pressures arise ‘‘from the culture,’’ findings from the present study suggest that this process cannot be viewed as a uniquely American phenomenon, and there may be few cultures immune to this problem. Many Japanese schoolgirls also face similar challenges, the severity of which may even exceed that typical of the United States. However, the school

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band offered a domain where girls from the Ishikawa Middle School could cooperate together, strive to create beauty, and enjoy a relatively strong sense of autonomy as leaders, once they attained rank within the organization. After completing her first year of membership, each girl automatically attained a position of leadership, as Sempai to any Kohai who would then enter as a firstyear student. For many, this was the first opportunity in their lives to be placed in such a position of leadership. Due to demographic shifts in contemporary Japan, most students had either no siblings, or merely one (who might be younger or older, male or female). Within Japanese schools, grade levels tend to be strictly separated, and elementary schools require comparatively little from students in terms of leadership skills.26 Hence, very few band members had ever previously experienced the responsibility of mentoring a younger girl. It was quite evident that this institutionalized system of mentorship produced relationships that were meaningful to the Ishikawa Middle School band members. The program from the band’s final concert of the academic year ‘‘22nd Annual Regular Concert’’ provides important insights into the significance of these relationships. Page 12 of the concert program contains 21 squares (2 inches by 2 inches in diameter), corresponding to each of the 21 graduating third-year students. At the top of each square, the name of one graduating student is written, followed by the title ‘‘Sempai’’ (senior/elder) and his or her instrumental part. This information is followed by a few short sentences describing something the younger students will remember about her or him. The material in these boxes is particularly illustrative of the kinds of mentoring relationships that had developed between the older and younger students in the Ishikawa Middle School band. Their content is listed in full below, translated with an attempt to maintain the subtleties of the language used by these Japanese middle school students: (1) Percussion. I will try to remember the things she said to me forever, as I respect this Sempai very much. An excellent snare drummer. (2) Percussion. She speaks very kindly and always gives great advice. She is very skilled at timpani and other large drums. (3) Trombone. A great speaker, always gives so much to support our section. Very skilled at bass trombone. (4) Flute. A very hardworking and quite energetic Sempai. Very skilled at playing both flute and piccolo. (5) Flute. Beautiful sound. Played a really awesome solo at the competition. (6) Horn. Played an excellent solo at the competition. She became somebody we could really count on. (7) Horn. Skilled at playing horn, a very funny Sempai. Seems to be a part of the absent-minded club. (8) Clarinet. Skilled at both clarinet and marching, a model for everybody. Incredibly fast at tonguing. (9) Clarinet. Guided everyone as the part leader. Became someone we could really rely on.

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(10) Euphonium. Very courageous and especially hardworking on the euphonium solo at the competition. Made some funny little errors. (11) Tuba. Very eager to rehearse, a Sempai who is kind to everyone. Very calmly took the role of part leader and made us proper. (12) Clarinet. Sempai who is kind and carefree, willing to teach anything. (13) Oboe. Sempai who on any piece, on any instrument, ended beautifully. (14) Trumpet. As part leader, she tried her very best for us. A truly funny Sempai. (15) Trumpet. Always inspiring our section to do even better, a funny Sempai. (16) Bassoon. Very skilled at teaching instruments and marching. Soo-pah cool Sempai. (17) Baritone Saxophone. Sempai who absolutely gave her best. Sometimes a bit of an airhead. On the low tones, really honk-honked. (18) Tenor saxophone. Sempai who is always light-spirited, kind, and thoughtful of us Kohai. Her solo was a marvelous flourish. (19) Alto Saxophone. She has a ‘‘Diehard!’’ aura. Very skilled at saxophone. (20) Trombone. Always a bit absent-minded, but when she decides – Zoom! – she really decides. (21) Trombone. Hates to be called by a nickname. (Ha!) Excellent at trombone, but a bit (only a bit?) strange. The material in these 21 boxes from the concert program provides a sense of the kinds of mentorship that develop in a Japanese school band, yet it also reminds one of the diverse personalities and levels of maturity among these middle school students. Within the interviews, most Ishikawa Middle School band members expressed that through the process of mentoring a younger peer, they had gained new insights into ‘‘life’’, ‘‘learning’’ and other important lessons. It was certainly clear from observing differences between first-year and third-year students that many had developed strong leadership skills over this 3-year period, in which more hours were devoted to band than any other activity besides sleep. The studentmade decorations hanging on all the doors and walls of the band room, and even the monthly ritual of cleaning the band room as a group, reinforced the notion of the band room as a student-managed domain. Sociologist Robert Faulkner has described a remarkably similar rehearsal process called ‘‘shedding’’ among jazz musicians, as follows: Shedding is what you do when you learn repertoire, learn songs, play musical lines over and over again, get scales and arpeggios under your fingers, imitate musical lines played by others, and explore your instrument inside and out in search of your own sound and style. You reflect on your own membership in the local community of players, on their distinctive strengths and assessed weaknesses, on their growth (or lack of it) as musicians, and on your own musical career development (or lack of it). And you think about your place in still another group. As you practice, you think about your own musical heroes, their sound, their style, their technical facility, the tunes they play or played, their recordings of the material you are working on at the moment, how they did it, and whether you can learn from them, and if so, why, and if not, why not.27

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While Japanese school band members may not seek the same kind of individualistic expression commonly associated with jazz, similar characteristics are evident in the way that a sense of community is constructed through the rehearsal process. The sense of unity (danketsu) formed through this cooperative process enabled Ishikawa Middle School band members to maintain a collective sense of ownership over the ensemble. Despite the fact that Kato Sensei regularly conducted the ensemble for gassou, from the perspective of the student members, it clearly was still ‘‘our band’’, led by the Bucho, with assistance from the Fukubucho, and Kato Sensei served more as a kind of ‘‘Featured Artist’’. There seem to be many educational advantages to the sense of cooperation and autonomy that is effectively nurtured among students within this model. To some extent, the high levels of performing achievement reported among Japanese school bands must surely be attributed to their intense efforts within such cooperative contexts. This case epitomizes the relationship between the establishment of a tradition of cooperative activity and the development of notions of community. Wink has explicitly identified this relationship, writing that ‘‘when students and teachers connect Vygotsky’s principles and practices, the result is the construction of community.’’28 Indeed, the process of community-building is intertwined with the model of transmission via peer tutoring associated with Vygotsky, and clearly manifested within the case of Japanese school band sectional rehearsals. Through transmission of cultural practices, a sense of tradition and community is formed. Hence, one can speak of the ‘‘community’’ of a Japanese school band.

Notes 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

See Kaplan and Stauffer (1994), p. 1. See Kaplan and Stauffer (1994), p. 4. See Kaplan and Stauffer (1994), p. 2. See Alexander and Dorow (1983), p. 46. See Austin and Vispoel (1998), p. 42. Moscow State University is regarded as the Russian Federation’s leading comprehensive research university. I taught music there for autumn semester 2004, and learned about Vygotsky’s work while in residence. 7. See Vygotsky (1978). 8. Barber (2003), p. 24. 9. See Williamson and Neidig (1998), p. 33 for this quotation. Also, according to former University of Michigan Director of Bands H. Robert Reynolds, ‘‘extensive formal tuning can even be harmful, because so many directors and students then think the band is ‘in tune’ – like a piano . . .. The pitch should be given by a person who can produce the same pitch everyday. (Reference to a tuner is OK, but the sound of an electronic device is not musical). Up through the high school level, I think the students should first sing the note they are going to play, so the sound goes inside the head, promoting the desired internal awareness of pitch . . . as opposed to the external imposition of it’’ (Williamson and Neidig, 1998, p. 65).

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10. Note that unlike the previous examples of slang, this is a common formulaic expression, and one should be careful not to ‘‘read too much’’ into its literal translation. Nevertheless, the connotations are fascinating. See Miller (2004) for extensive discussion of the development and use of specialized slang terminology among Japanese schoolgirls. 11. See Rohlen and LeTendre (1998). 12. See Fukuzawa (1990), p. 408. 13. See Stock (2003), p. 140. 14. See Sloboda and Davidson (1996). 15. Markus and Kitayama (1991), p. 244. 16. Yano (2002), p. 52. 17. Such attention to repetition of small phrases also resembles Japanese art classrooms, where ‘‘the most striking figure was the amount of time devoted to making a single image or object’’ (Wilds, 1993, p. 187). 18. In her ethnographic studies of Japanese youth, White also noted that ‘‘Japanese folk psychology is based on pragmatic realism, such as the ideal of the triumph of effort over obstacles’’ (White, 1993, p. 23). 19. Dweck (1999), p. 150. 20. Howard (1991), p. 81. 21. Howard (1991), p. 83. 22. Howard (1991), p. 87. 23. Gender issues are discussed in depth in Chapter 15. 24. Pipher (1994), p. 8. 25. Pipher (1994), p. 311. 26. LeTendre (2000). 27. Faulkner (2006), p. 94. 28. Wink (2002), p. 118.

References Alexander, L., & Dorow, L. G. (1983). Peer tutoring effects on the music performance of tutors and tutees in beginning band classes. Journal of Research in Music Education, 31(1), 33–47. Austin, J. R., & Vispoel, W. P. (1998). How American adolescents interpret success and failure in classroom music: Relationships among attributional beliefs, self-concept and achievement. Psychology of Music, 26, 26–45. Barber, C. F. (2003). Conductors in rehearsal. In J. A. Bowen (Ed.), The Cambridge companion to conducting (pp. 17–27). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Dweck, C. S. (1999). Self-theories: Their role in motivation, personality, and development. Philadelphia: Taylor & Francis. Faulkner, R. R. (2006). Shedding culture. In H. S. Becker, R. R. Faulkner, & B. KirshenblattGimblett (Eds.), Art from start to finish: Jazz, painting, writing, and other improvisations (pp. 91–117). Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Fukuzawa, R. E. (1990). Stratification, social control, and student culture: An ethnography of three Japanese junior high schools. Doctoral dissertation, Northwestern University (AAT 9031903). Howard, V. A. (1991). And practice drives me mad; or, the drudgery of drill. Harvard Educational Review, 61(1), 80–87. Kaplan, P. R., & Stauffer, S. L. (1994). Cooperative learning in music. Reston, VA: MENC. LeTendre, G. K. (2000). Learning to be adolescent: Growing up in U.S. and Japanese middle schools. New Haven: Yale University Press.

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Markus, H. R., & Kitayama, S. (1991). Culture and the self: Implications for cognition, emotion, and motivation. Psychological Review, 98, 224–253. Miller, L. (2004). Those naughty teenage girls: Japanese kogals, slang, and media assessments. Journal of Linguistic Anthropology, 14(2), 225–247. Pipher, M. (1994). Reviving Ophelia: Saving the selves of adolescent girls. New York: Ballantine Books. Rohlen, T., & LeTendre, G. (1998). Conclusion: Themes in the Japanese culture of learning. In T. Rohlen & G. LeTendre (Eds.), Teaching and learning in Japan (pp. 369–376). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Sloboda, J., & Davidson, J. (1996). The young performing musician. In I. Deliege & J. Sloboda (Eds.), Musical beginnings: Origins and development of musical competence (pp. 171–190). Oxford: Oxford University Press. Stock, J. P. J. (2003). Music education: Perspectives from current ethnomusicology. British Journal of Music Education, 20(2), 135–145. Vygotsky, L. S. (1978). Mind in society: The development of higher order psychological processes. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. White, M. (1993). The material child: Coming of age in Japan and America. Berkeley: University of California Press. Wilds, A. (1993). Japan’s art teachers: An ethnographic study of their instructional practices and educational beliefs. Doctoral dissertation, University of Minnesota (AAT 9331955). Williamson, J. E., & Neidig, K. L. (1998). Rehearsing the band. Cloudcroft, NM: Neidig Services. Wink, J. (2002). A vision of Vygotsky. Boston: Allyn & Bacon. Yano, C. R. (2002). Tears of longing: Nostalgia and the nation in Japanese popular song. Cambridge, MA: Harvard East Asia Monographs.

Chapter 12

Organizational Training of the Japanese Band Director

鶏口となるも牛後となるなかれ Keikouto narumo gyougoto narunakare ‘‘Better to be the head of a dog than the tail of a lion’’

The lens of this narrative is now widened in Chapter 12 to demonstrate how a sense of community is formed and maintained among participants in the Japanese school band system. The process by which community is constructed is both multi-faceted and complex, requiring discussion of its components from various angles.1 I will explore the community of band directors, describing how Kato Sensei and her school band director colleagues learned to direct wind bands (through a form of community apprenticeship, outside formal educational settings), and demonstrating the social structures that have necessitated the development of strong band associations in Japan. This chapter also identifies the role of relevant organizations, determining fundamental objectives, from mission statements and philosophical writings that serve to unite Japan’s band director community. The process by which Japanese teachers learn to direct school bands is particularly revealing of practices that would support the notion of these bands as a form of community-based music. For the most part, Japanese teachers learn band pedagogy through informal occupational training programs offered through community organizations, namely band associations and music industry affiliates. Cohen observed that ‘‘since structure determines neither behaviour nor attitude it follows that members of different communities may use similar structures, yet think about them in quite different ways.’’2 Thus, band organizations in the USA and Japan may exemplify communities that are structurally similar, yet quite different in terms of meanings and roles in the educational and band fields. An important function of Japanese band organizations is to facilitate the training of band directors who otherwise would not obtain the skills necessary for their positions. In the USA and some other nations this task is considered a responsibility of university music education departments.

D.G. Hebert, Wind Bands and Cultural Identity in Japanese Schools, 193 Landscapes: the Arts, Aesthetics, and Education 9, DOI 10.1007/978-94-007-2178-4_12, Ó Springer ScienceþBusiness Media B.V. 2012

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12.1 Kato Sensei’s Occupational Training Kato Sensei’s training provides key insights into this process. At the time of this study, Kato Sensei was 44 years old, a mid-career public middle school music teacher who had received her higher education at Nihon University, Japan’s largest tertiary institution. Nihon University is a private institution with several campuses in the greater Tokyo area. Kato Sensei studied in the music education program at the Ekoda campus, and graduated with a Bachelor of Arts degree 22 years prior (at the age of 22). Within the music education program, her areas of emphasis were voice and piano, which are the two most popular fields in Japanese music education programs. No methods courses of relevance to band instruments were included in her training at the university. A single conducting methods class was offered, lasting for 1 year. The conducting course focused on directing orchestral and choral music, rather than wind band conducting. Upon graduation, Kato Sensei passed the teacher certification exam and was hired by a public school as the music teacher, but upon starting the job she discovered that she would be expected to conduct the school band club. Kato Sensei explained, ‘‘at first I really had no idea how to rehearse a group, even how to tune. I didn’t know about tuning problems because I had always played piano as my main instrument, and then some percussion. Pitch was not an issue before for me, so I did not understand it very well at the time. For 1 year I was very challenged.’’ Kato Sensei expressed that her educational training had left her ill-prepared for problems faced in her actual career. She explained, ‘‘at my university the conducting course was a basic general conducting methods class, rather than one for band. It emphasized chorus, and we had no opportunities at all to experience conducting a band.’’ According to Kato Sensei, Japanese university music education programs have continued to use a similar curriculum. Although Kato Sensei indicated a lack of band-related studies in her own university training, it was clear from rehearsal observations (and from the band’s impressive competition record) that she had managed to become a fine band conductor. According to Kato Sensei, she learned most of her band conducting techniques after being hired as a school teacher. In describing how she coped initially with such challenges, Kato Sensei explained the following: There are band specialist instructors. They can be called to assist with the band, so sometimes once a week or twice a month we ask them to come and give them some payment, and then they come and provide their services. Many get their specialists from Yamaha . . . When clinicians came I would carefully watch their conducting method the entire time: watch, listen, remember, and see how the students changed. Then I could determine how particular instructions would produce specific positive results, and see clearly how things could improve through various means.

From discussions with other band directors, as well as Yamaha band clinicians, it became clear that this practice of hiring band specialists to assist with new teachers was quite common. Kato Sensei also indicated that workshops

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and clinics offered by local music teacher and band organizations, particularly the Tokyo Middle School Band Association and the Yamaha Corporation, provided essential opportunities for learning about band methods and repertoire. When directly asked what she thought of the training of band directors in Japanese tertiary music education programs, Kato Sensei replied, ‘‘It is completely bad.’’ Discussions with numerous school band directors tended to reveal similar opinions, however these may only appropriately be considered in context, as the training of band directors is considered ancillary to the mission of university music education programs in Japan. Previous studies by nonJapanese scholars have tended to show that improvements are much needed in the area of teacher education.3 The legitimacy of Kato Sensei’s descriptions was triangulated through document analysis, observations, and interviews. Each band director and music education professor I talked with agreed that school bands play little or no role in music education programs within Japanese conservatories and universities. Within Japan’s largest university music education department, the instrumental methods courses offered to prospective music teachers were for piano, recorder, and pianica (a plastic device). Only one conducting class was offered, and no courses in the fields of band repertoire, rehearsal techniques, or relevant instrumental methods. When asked the reasons for this curriculum, two explanations were offered by school band directors and music education professors. The most obvious reason was the view of ‘‘music education’’ taken by Japanese university music education departments,4 which tend to define music education rather narrowly as formal instruction within academic music classes. According to this definition, school bands and any other music activities outside the context of the school music class (e.g. community music) may be dismissed as peripheral to the field. Another explanation offered was that many Japanese music professors view wind band with less esteem than other ensembles associated with Western art music, an issue also encountered in previous research on Japanese band composers.5 According to Kato Sensei’s experience, many Japanese university professors ‘‘think that classical orchestra and opera are number one, and that band is really an activity far beneath them.’’ Kato Sensei explained the views of Japanese music professors as follows: [They] consider band to be inferior [to orchestra, opera, and chamber music]. Generally, they seem to think that the music played by bands is outside of their territory. It seems they think that Western classical music is the best versus anything else. Recently they are starting to consider opening to jazz and popular music, I think . . . yes, I really think Japan is still terribly closed in this way. At university I wanted to know much more about not only band but other kinds of music too.

It cannot be denied that for the past 50 years, the major tertiary music programs in Japan have tended to emphasize historical Western European art music of the Classical and Romantic periods, particularly by Germanic composers. Other musical styles, including twentieth century art music, jazz, and

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popular music, have received considerably less attention, although a few institutions (such as Tokyo’s ‘‘Geidai’’) have consistently offered strong hogaku programs. Some of Kato Sensei’s statements regarding the esteem associated with band versus other ensembles, and the role of jazz and popular styles in education, may resemble observations made of most Western music institutions during much of the twentieth century. However, the frustration she expressed regarding the relevance of training in collegiate music education programs for school band conducting seems relatively less familiar.6

12.2 The Teacher Transfer System Kato Sensei had explained that her training as a band conductor occurred mostly after university graduation, through her network of contacts in the band community. This might seem a rather straightforward process, as one could conceivably develop such contacts through the local music store and other resources in the neighborhood of the school, where the band director presumably resides. However, there is another particularly unusual factor in this educational model that has necessitated the development of a close-knit, organized community of band directors: the teacher rotation system. In Tokyo, as well as many other parts of Japan, schoolteachers are hired for periods of 4 to 7 years to work at a particular school, and are then transferred to a new school by the school district administration. While private school teachers may spend their entire career at a single school, most public school teachers will have worked for over five different schools by the time they near retirement age. The Tokyo school district teacher transfer system is more inflexible than most in Japan. Within Tokyo, the transfer can be as distant as 90 min by train between the teacher’s residence and the school campus. Kato Sensei explained, ‘‘In my case, after teaching for 4 years at one school, then at the second school for 7 years, then the third school for 6 years. Now I am on school number four, and always if there was a school band I was expected to teach it. So, it is quite unusual for a school band program to have the chance to develop under a single conductor for a long period of time.’’ It was difficult to understand the logic of such a system, but as I spoke with professors in the educational field there appeared to be a consensus of opinion that this policy existed to maintain control over teachers in order to decrease corruption and organized resistance. The history of friction between Japan’s teachers union and the Ministry of Education is well-documented.7 While there appear to be no similar models in Western educational systems, remarkable parallels may be seen with both military organizations and Japanese indigenous management traditions. In a stringent analysis of the historical antecedents of contemporary Japanese organizational structures, Kasaya concluded that despite pervasive Western influence, Japanese bureaucracies have tended to retain many features characteristic of pre-Meiji organizations.8 Similarly, it is noteworthy that this

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system of teacher rotation in the contemporary Japanese school system, which appears to have no significant counterparts in the West, bears a striking resemblance to the traditional management strategies of the shoguns. Recognizing that if a talented samurai were to gain a strong foothold within a community he might develop loyalties sufficient to lead a peasant rebellion, powerful shoguns made a policy of regularly rotating their finest samurai between distant outposts. Despite such interpretations, it is also worth noting that one positive aspect of this system may be that it may help lessen the development of entrenched inequalities among schools, which is a severe problem in many nations, including the United States. With continuous rotation, it becomes less likely that particular schools would end up with all the best teachers or the most resources. The teacher-rotation system would tend to isolate band directors from their profession, were it not for the sense of community provided by Japanese band organizations.

12.3 Relevant Institutions and Organizations Detailed discussion of the roles of relevant institutions and organizations is absent from previous research on Japanese bands. When asked about the relevance of the All-Japan Band Association for school band directors, Kato Sensei replied, ‘‘Compared with other organizations, only the AJBA has a strong and deep influence on school bands.’’ However, examination of AJBA documents, and discussion with its Director, revealed that the AJBA focuses its activities exclusively on managing the national band competition. The competition alone seems insufficient to explain the achievements of Japanese school bands, and as this study progressed, the existence of a plethora of other relevant organizations was revealed. In order to better understand the significance of such institutions for school band directors, I discussed the topic extensively with Kato Sensei, surveyed other middle school band directors, collected key documents from the organizations, and sought interviews with their officials. Such organizations include the Japan Academic Society for Music Education, Japan Society for Music Education, Japan Bandmasters Association and Asia-Pacific Bandmasters Association. Other institutions determined to be highly relevant include various professional media, the Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra, and the Yamaha Corporation, which will be examined in the next chapter. Japan Academic Society for Music Education (JASME). Music education professors tend to participate primarily in this organization. The following mission statement (Fig. 12.1) is translated from its internet homepage.9 The Japan Academic Society for Music Education (also known as Japanese Music Education Society) emphasizes ‘‘research’’ and most of its members are university professors. School bands are addressed within one section of a single issue from the past 20 years of this society’s journal. JASME is held in great esteem among Japanese music education professors, yet it is relatively unknown

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ed according to our general rules to be as follows: Contribution through the holding of research conferences, planning of international exchange, and promotion of music education studies. We are engaged in various business and activities in order to accomplish these objectives: (1) Public presentation of scholarly research and/or symposiums. Japanese Journal of Music Education (2) Research] and other documents. (3) Collection and/or investigation of research materials. (4) Exchange of foreign materials and publications. (5) Various other activities deemed necessary for accomplishing our purpose.

Fig. 12.1 Japan academic society for music education

outside of Japan. In recent years, its relevance has been called into question by many practicing school music teachers in Japan, and alternative music education organizations have arisen. When asked what relation JASME had to school band conducting, Kato Sensei replied that Japanese music teachers are ‘‘expected to direct bands for free, and it is not considered the main part of their job. So, music education professors consider classroom teaching to be their area of concern, and that is what they study and write about. I think there is actually very little research on school bands in Japan.’’10 When asked what kinds of topics she would like to see researched, Kato Sensei replied, ‘‘I think we need to know more about how to accomplish more on the instruments within the limited amount of time available. And then, I would like to learn more about resonant tone and harmony: how do you produce it and obtain a resonant sound, and that kind of thing. I often anguish over that during the band competitions, and by that time it is too late.’’ Clearly, Kato Sensei recognized the contribution that band research could provide for school band directors, but felt that its potential had generally remained unfulfilled in Japan. Japan Society for Music Education (JSME). Kato Sensei considered the Japan Society for Music Education to be relevant to school band directors, and regularly attended its meetings. The following mission statement (Fig. 12.2) is translated from its internet homepage.11 According to JSME’s mission statement, members are encouraged to attend meetings for all divisions, so as to ensure greater collaboration between school levels. Upon attending the Tokyo Middle School division 2003 annual meeting, I was surprised to find zero university professors in attendance, a number confirmed by the registration desk. That meeting, the only one of its kind, occurred once per year. When asked about university professors, JSME leaders expressed regret that few actively participated in their organization. Senior bandmaster associations. Two other band organizations (Japan Bandmasters Association and Asia-Pacific Band Association) also contribute to the band director community in Japan. The Japan Bandmasters Association (established in 1967) is considered an elite club of distinguished band directors, many of whom have reached retirement age. Because of its prestige, younger band

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-nichi Onken and the meaning of its name: Our full name is Zen Nihon Ongaku Kyoiku Kenkyu-kai, or Zen-nichi Onken for short. Our English name is Japan Society for Music Education (JSME). According to our contributes to the development of as elementary, middle school and high school music teachers, and university instructors associated with schools that have institutional memberships in the society. Symposia are offered for each division (elementary, middle school, high school, university), and each is actively pursuing the aforementioned goals. We also hold an integrated conference, in addition to divisional meetings, workshops, and clinics. Recently, school partnership has become a popular theme of discussion in the education field, and Zen-nichi Onken is already developing such cooperative arrangements for the improvement of society. Members are welcome to join the divisional meetings at any level. Particularly, at the university level, more communication with school teachers is fully desired. And, essentially that is Zen-nichi Onken, now in the 33rd year since its

Fig. 12.2 Japan society for music education

directors refer to JBA as the ‘‘Rotary Club of band directors,’’ and it is viewed as an important arena for networking and a vital resource in terms of obtaining financial support for high-profile projects. Compared with AJBA, the JBA is less directly involved with school bands. Rather, the JBA focuses much of its attention on supporting band composers and professional level ensembles. The AsiaPacific Band Directors Association (established in 1978) is an organization that seeks to facilitate exchange in the field of wind bands between Japan and other Asian nations. Meetings have tended to be held on a biennial basis. Other Japanese organizations are also beginning to attract school band directors, but have yet to substantially affect school bands at the national level: Japan Society for Music Culture Promotion; Academic Society of Japan for Winds, Percussion, and Bands; Japan Society for Music Learning; and various others. Professional media. Kato Sensei indicated that she subscribes to some professional publications that help her to keep up with the latest trends in the field of band conducting. In particular, Kato Sensei enjoyed Band Journal, which she explained, ‘‘comes every month . . .. The advice for band teaching in that magazine is quite useful. And, also the video magazine, ‘Winds’. I view that occasionally.’’ Japan’s Band Journal documents major events in the band world, gives suggested rehearsal strategies, includes regular columns by experts on several different instruments that discuss ways to solve common problems, discusses new literature, and even provides a free sample score of a new band composition. When asked to discuss any important people in the field of Japanese school bands, Kato Sensei immediately mentioned Marutani Sensei, Director of the Yodogawa Technical High School Band. According to Kato Sensei, ‘‘They [Yodogawa band] are great not only at ‘competitionesque’ pieces, but at marching and other concert pieces as well. Many people are very interested in that band.’’ She even offered a videotape of the NHK special documentary featuring

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the famous band, which she considered to be particularly insightful. Regarding the band’s director, Marutani, Kato Sensei explained, ‘‘His way of rehearsing is very strict . . . they practice until very late at night. Maybe you will see, he really works with each student.’’ Besides this widely-distributed NHK feature documentary, the Yodogawa Technical High School Band has professionally released many CDs that are available in music stores throughout Japan. From the preceding discussion, it should be clear that the occupational training of a Japanese school band director is enabled by a system of networking within a greater community of colleagues. However, what remains missing from this discussion is consideration of the role of music industry, and of the philosophical influence of relevant institutions, which serve as the subjects for the next chapter.

Notes 1. See Cohen (1985) and Wenger (1998) for detailed discussion. 2. Cohen (1985), p. 75. 3. Kiester (1993) identified the absence of professional development and continuing education opportunities as important concerns in this field (p. 46). Willson (1986) similarly noted that music education programs in Japanese universities ‘‘have little or no interest in training instrumental music teachers’’ (p. 43). In the related field of art education, Wilds (1993) similarly noted that in hindsight, some Japanese teachers perceived their education as ‘‘not of any use’’ and lacking in ‘‘practical training’’ (p. 195), and that ‘‘they learn how to actually teach from their peers in the school system itself when they become teachers’’ (p. 213). These foreign perceptions are critical, but may be valid as the data supports them in Japan and elsewhere. Despite these kinds of general concerns, it should be noted that certain areas of musical study, such as conducting technique, may be a special strong point of Japanese music institutions, although actual wind band methods are rarely taught. The Saito Method is remarkably detailed in its descriptions of precise techniques, emphasizing ‘‘changes in the velocity of the motion’’ of baton gestures in conducting. Its importance is demonstrated in a statement in the book’s preface by renowned conductor Seiji Ozawa: ‘‘His teachings are so comprehensive and yet so fundamental that they embrace and enrich all possible conducting styles’’ (1988, p. iii). It would be no exaggeration to suggest that the Saito Method is unparalleled in terms of detail, and has either directly or indirectly influenced the training of most Japanese conductors in recent generations. 4. Recall the historical discussion in Chapter 2. 5. See the discussion of composers Hoshina and Ito in Hebert (2001). 6. Here is it useful to also consider publications on Japanese universities. In recent years foreign experts from a variety of disciplines have published books that are openly critical of Japanese universities: Japanese Higher Education as Myth (McVeigh, 2002), Cartels of the Mind: Japan’s Intellectual Closed Shop (Hall, 1998), and Empire of Schools: Japan’s Universities and the Molding of a National Power Elite (Cutts, 1997), to name a few. But, what is perhaps most revealing are books published by Japanese with experience in the higher education systems of other nations, including an internationally respected professor at one of Japan’s most progressive private universities (Kawanari, 2000). Kawanari’s wellresearched Collapse of Universities, which sold over 400,000 copies, reveals severe problems afflicting most fields of higher education in Japan, including music teacher education. Ogawa (2004) is among the few Japanese scholars to directly grapple with such issues in his music publications.

References

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7. See, for example, Roesgaard (1998) and Singleton (1967). 8. See Kasaya (2000), p. 210. 9. Taken from the JASME internet homepage (Japan Academic Society for Music Education, n.d.). 10. The dearth of previous school band studies is mentioned by several Japanese scholars, as described in Chapter 2. 11. Taken from the JSME internet homepage (Japan Society for Music Education, n.d.).

References Cohen, A. P. (1985). The symbolic construction of community. New York: Ellis Horwood Limited. Cutts, R. L. (1997). An empire of schools: Japan’s universities and the molding of a national power elite. New York: M.E. Sharpe. Hall, I. P. (1998). Cartels of the mind: Japan‘s intellectual closed shop. New York: W.W. Norton. Hebert, D. G. (2001). Hoshina and Ito: Japanese wind band composers. Journal of Band Research, 37(1), 61–77. Japan Academic Society for Music Education. (n.d.) Retrieved August 1, 2003, from http:// wwwsoc.nii.ac.jp/jmes2/index.html Japan Society for Music Education. (n.d.) Retrieved August 1, 2003, from http://www.jsme. net Kasaya, K. (2000). The origin and development of Japanese-style organization. Kyoto: International Research Center for Japanese Studies. Kawanari, Y. (2000). Daigaku houkai [The collapse of universities]. Tokyo: Takarajimasha. Kiester, G. J. (1993). A look at Japanese music education. Music Educators Journal, 79(6), 42–48. McVeigh, B. J. (2002). Japanese higher education as myth. Armonk, NY: M.E. Sharpe. Ogawa, M. (2004). Music teacher education in Japan: Structure, problems, and perspectives. Philosophy of Music Education Review, 12(2), 139–153. Roesgaard, M. H. (1998). Moving mountains: Japanese education reform. Aarhus: Aarhus University Press. Saito, H. (1988). The Saito conducting method (W. J. Toews, Trans.). Tokyo: Ongakuno Tomosha and Min-On Concert Association. Singleton, J. (1967). Nichu: A Japanese school. New York: Holt, Rinehart, and Winston. Wenger, E. (1998). Communities of practice: Learning, meaning, and identity. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Wilds, A. (1993). Japan’s art teachers: An ethnographic study of their instructional practices and educational beliefs. Doctoral dissertation, University of Minnesota. Willson, T. (1986). Japanese bands: What makes them so good? Music Educators Journal, 72 (5), 41.

Chapter 13

Corporate Giants: Yamaha and the Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra

捨てる神あれば拾う神あり Suteru kami areba hirou kami ari ‘‘When one god deserts you another will pick you up’’

13.1 Music Industry in Japan In Denshigakki Sangyoron, the first book-length scholarly study to address the history of Japan’s musical instrument industry, Kenji Tanaka concludes with the assertion that Japan must strive to ‘‘escape from the labyrinth of culture industrialization.’’1 What does this statement mean, and what implications may it have for the field of music education? Most previous research on the topic of musical practices in Japan has neglected to discuss the role of the music industry. This situation is ironic, because when viewed in terms of economics, Japan has become a world center for the production and consumption of ‘‘Western’’ music in recent decades. Japanese companies have led most sectors of the global music industry, from production of musical instruments (Yamaha, Kawai, Roland, Casio, Korg), to the production, distribution and consumption of recordings (Toshiba/EMI, Sony, Columbia, JVC, Panasonic, Yamaha), and even the world’s largest systems for community music education (Yamaha, Kawai, Suzuki, Roland). Among all of the companies associated with this enormous industry in Japan, Yamaha stands out as especially influential, and it is useful now to consider the extent of its influence within the sphere of Japanese wind bands, as well as that of other corporations and even professional wind ensembles.

13.2 Contributions of the Yamaha Corporation Yamaha history. In the previous chapter, the community of Japanese band directors was identified and official statements of relevant organizations presented, and earlier chapters described pedagogical techniques, but in order to fully understand this model it is important to also consider the philosophical D.G. Hebert, Wind Bands and Cultural Identity in Japanese Schools, 203 Landscapes: the Arts, Aesthetics, and Education 9, DOI 10.1007/978-94-007-2178-4_13, Ó Springer ScienceþBusiness Media B.V. 2012

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underpinnings of teaching approaches seen in Japanese community music education. Yasuharu Takahagi observed that Japanese music teachers ‘‘tend to teach the textbook without questioning or developing their own personal philosophy of music education.’’2 This may generally be true for academic music classes. But school bands, as extra-curricular clubs, lack the structure of a set curriculum, and are undergirded by a network of community institutions with a vested interest in their survival. Certainly, instruction cannot occur in the complete absence of a guiding philosophy, although the approach taken is not always officially declared in the form of a mission statement or curriculum. The most sensible place to seek evidence of such a philosophical approach to school band directing would be within the All-Japan Band Association, as Japan’s most significant band organization. According to AJBA documents and statements from its Director, the AJBA philosophy is quite simply to organize and facilitate a national competition ‘‘for amateur bands.’’ In terms of a tangible philosophical position, it cannot be concluded that the AJBA directly determines the instructional approaches used within school bands, although there can be little doubt that many practices have arisen as a result of an extremely competitive environment that is attributable to AJBA. Interestingly, Burdett concluded in her historical study of the National School Band Tournament in the United States during the 1920s and 1930s that ‘‘Music educators never formulated a specific philosophy, goals, and objectives as the basis for the [national band] contests.’’3 However, it is clear that outside the AJBA, many Japanese band directors are influenced by philosophical positions advanced from the private sector. The Yamaha Corporation has long been deeply involved in the Japanese band community, as its greatest supplier of musical instruments, repair services, and clinicians. Yamaha sponsors many band events, and is very effective at marketing itself in all band-related media, and Yamaha community music schools are widely recognized as effective sources for supplemental instruction on band instruments. It can be just as difficult to imagine what Japanese bands would be like without the contributions of Yamaha, as it is to imagine what Yamaha would be like without the clientele of the AJBA competition’s 700,000 participants and other band musicians throughout Japan. Yamaha has long maintained a symbiotic partnership with these school-based community ensembles, for it was already the largest musical instrument maker in Japan in the age of the jinta, before Japanese community youth bands had even entered schools.4 Presently, the slogan of Yamaha is ‘‘Creating kando together,’’ kando being a poetic Japanese term that roughly means sublime rapture, deep excitement, or profound emotion. According to a promotional video distributed by Yamaha in 2009, over 5 million students have studied music at Yamaha schools. The Yamaha Corporation traces its history to 1887, but is actually a conglomeration of various parent companies, one of which was led by Torakusu Yamaha and specialized in the production of reed organs.5 As early as 1894, the Eigawa Seisakusho subsidiary company was providing instruments for chindonya (street

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musicians), military bands, and even musicians of the imperial household.6 The company began by fixing imported Western instruments, but by 1907 was already producing some of its own. At first, the quality was not good, but craftsmanship rapidly improved. In 1937, the company was redeveloped as Nippon Kangakki Kabushiki Kaisha, and in 1970 combined with Nihon Gakki Seizou Kabushiki Gaisha to become the wind instrument division of the Yamaha Corporation, which had been known for years as Nippon Gakki Company, Ltd. The meaning of this name in Japanese is quite generic: ‘‘Japan musical instrument company,’’ but the company was later renamed Yamaha Corporation in honor of its founder. The Yamaha Corporation found great success in the field of keyboard instrument production, but also began producing wind instruments in 1965. By the mid-1970s, under the leadership of President Genichi Kawakami, Yamaha was producing 200,000 pianos annually, and fully 30% of the world’s keyboards and wind instruments.7 In 1988, during the ‘‘bubble era’’ of Japanese economic prosperity, Yamaha’s total annual sales reached 391.8 billion yen, nearly doubling the 206.6 billion mark of 1976. As Hiyama observed, ‘‘By 1989 Yamaha had built factories in Michigan capable of producing 100,000 brass instruments per year as well as in Hammamatsu and Toyoka capable of more than 300,000 per year, which produced instruments that circled the globe.’’8 Instrument production had never before occurred on such a large scale, and the Yamaha brand soon became a household name. The company also expanded into domains that are far outside the music industry. As a result, even today the brand seen on a large number of the motorcycles, snowmobiles, golf carts, and speed boats throughout the world consists of a musical symbol: three intersecting tuning forks. It may be that no other music company in world history has ever exerted such influence on global popular culture. The Yamaha corporate logo is explained as follows: The three tuning forks of the Yamaha logo mark represent the cooperative relationship that links the three pillars of our business – technology, production, and sales. They also evoke the robust vitality that has forged a reputation for sound and music the world over, a territory indicated by the enclosing circle. The mark also symbolizes the three essential musical elements: melody, harmony, and rhythm.9

Clearly, Yamaha has been an important factor in providing the industrial support to enable the emergence of a strong wind band tradition in Japan. Kawakami’s philosophy. Since the development of the AJBA competition, Yamaha has consistently claimed the role of major sponsor for band events, but the company has also promoted a particular pedagogical approach that requires discussion. The Yamaha philosophy of music education, though little known outside Japan, is the most influential instructional approach among Japanese community music teachers. Within Japan, the influence of the Yamaha School greatly exceeds that of the Suzuki Method. Although a few studies have examined the Yamaha method in practice, there appear to be no previous English language discussions of its philosophical implications,

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particularly in relation to Japanese education and culture.10 The Yamaha School’s philosophy is presented in the extensive writings of its unique educational visionary and CEO Genichi Kawakami (1912–2002). In 1987, Kawakami published an English-language version of his compiled philosophical essays entitled Reflections on Music Popularization. The book consists of various essays and excerpts from speeches presented over several decades in which Kawakami makes frequent reference to Chinese philosophy, Buddhist and Christian principles, and the thoughts of famous Classical and popular musicians. Much like educational philosopher Tsunesaburo Makiguchi, Kawakami was highly critical of the teacher centered instructional ‘‘forcefeeding’’ and memorization emphasized within Japanese schooling.11 He felt that Japanese education caused excessive anxiety and stress. To the contrary, pleasure served as the core principle of Kawakami’s general philosophy. Kawakami despised the arrogance and elitism often associated with Western classical music.12 He genuinely valued popular music as well as classical forms, and advocated musical studies for enjoyment, a position that fit well with the more holistic aims of the Yamaha Corporation, aims that eventually expanded from its original emphasis on musical instruments to include production of motorcycles, sporting goods, and other products for ‘‘pleasurable activity’’. Kawakami was a sincere internationalist, and his writings celebrate the claim that ‘‘a major goal of the Yamaha Music Education System, ‘world peace through music,’ is steadily being realized.’’13 Within Kawakami’s book, Mstislav Rostropovich discussed a Yamaha concert held at the United Nations Headquarters General Assembly Hall at the invitation of UNICEF. Noting the significance of ‘‘young children performing works of their own composition,’’ he discussed the Yamaha system’s noble goal of ‘‘transcending national boundaries.’’14 Rostropovich explained as follows: In Mr. Kawakami’s educational philosophy, childhood is seen as the most important period . . . to find out that Mr. Kawakami was engaged in the education of 600,000 children starting from age four was great news, and deeply impressed me. What almost no other countries had even undertaken, Mr. Kawakami was doing as an individual. On top of this, he is doing it systematically on the largest scale in the world.15

Kawakami often indicated dissatisfaction with Japanese universities and the educational system that required students to memorize facts for university entrance examinations. He wrote the following: Do you think a good memory can solve all of life’s problems? In fact, there are people whom you would call worthless and disgusting, who have gone to Tokyo University because of their good memory. It’s no joke. But of course a man’s worth is not found only in a good memory; there are many other admirable traits such as kindness, honesty, and perseverance.16

In response to a Japanese musician who was considering whether to enroll in a Japanese music conservatory or study other subjects at university, Kawakami advised that ‘‘There is no necessity for anyone as talented as you to study at a music university in order to become a Yamaha instructor. At a music university,

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you will learn such things as the theories of atonal and random music, but these studies will contribute nothing to your ability to help children and people who love music.’’17 It may be partly due to such assertions that Kawakami’s work has received little attention from Japanese music professors. Kawakami’s views regarding competition and cooperation in music are certainly of relevance to Japanese school bands. He wrote the following: Subjects such as music, art, and calligraphy should be included in extracurricular activities or optional subjects, and should not be graded. It is a competitive world, so these subjects at least should be used for making friends and cultivating a sense of solidarity with other human beings.18

This statement suggests that cooperation is an important ideal of music participation, perhaps even more so than technical achievement. In fact, Kawakami goes so far as to suggest that non-competitive approaches may be effective, writing, ‘‘I am not in favor of creating top players by choosing a limited number of students and forcing them to compete with each other. I think people would be better off playing music in a friendly atmosphere. I do not agree with those who say that a non-competitive approach to music results in inferior musical technique.’’19 It might seem that Kawakami is entirely opposed to competition, however, he also remarked that ‘‘Competition is a necessary evil, because it provides learners with the opportunity to be recognized by the world. However, it leads to a decadence in music, if we think the aim of music is just to compete.’’20 Kawakami felt that a music teacher ‘‘should be a good performer’’ and should ‘‘provide children with a model through his or her own actions.’’21 He encouraged students to develop an original interpretation of musical scores, and discouraged copying of recordings, while regarding imitation he wrote that ‘‘Nothing beautiful will be produced by simply following a model.’’22 Kawakami considered the Japanese traditions of jougekankei (hierarchical relations) and tatemae (artificial image projected in public domains) to be questionable practices, potentially detrimental to music appreciation. He wrote the following: When I contemplate the future of Japanese music, I feel very concerned about the Japanese love for authoritarianism and power. I am particularly aware of this in the world of classical music. However, people are prevented from criticizing authority in the way they would like to, while the deserving ‘‘unknowns’’ are never openly praised for their abilities.23

From such statements, it is clear that Kawakami was a thoughtful leader, fully aware of the practical problems associated with community music learning in Japan. Kawakami does not appear to have directly written about school bands, yet his ideas nevertheless seem quite relevant when considering this case from an international perspective. While the Yamaha system of community music schools emphasizes keyboards rather than wind bands, most of the clinicians commonly hired by school band directors for workshops are affiliated with Yamaha. Many, perhaps the majority, of Japanese band directors rely heavily on the direct guidance of such clinicians, particularly during their first few years of leading a

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school band. Among the Japanese middle school bands in Miyamoto’s survey (2003), 68% of the band directors regularly hired such outside clinicians.24 Kato Sensei mentioned the influence of Yamaha clinicians on several occasions, as did most other band directors encountered during the course of this study. Within interviews, school band directors also discussed the importance of Kawakami’s ideas, many of which seem to have crystallized in the practices of Japanese school bands and other community-based music ensembles.

13.3 Other Japanese Music Companies Yamaha is certainly not the only significant musical instrument company in Japan, yet most of the others tend to be related in various ways to Yamaha, which maintains a high profile as the world’s largest instrument maker. The Yamaha Corporation claims that ‘‘Strong commitment to promote and support music education and popularization is one of the most significant elements to distinguish Yamaha from its competitors,’’25 yet ample evidence shows that other notable Japanese instrument companies, including Roland, Kawai, and Korg, have also demonstrated a significant commitment to music education. Roland. The Roland company has been increasingly visible both in Japan and abroad as a major producer of keyboard instruments and music technology. Roland Founder Ikutaro Kakehashi (b. 1930) has also produced a book that contains many important insights regarding the music industry in Japan. In a book chapter entitled ‘‘Music is a Venture’’ Kakehashi acknowledged that ‘‘some artists do not wish to use the term ‘business.’ This is a potentially dangerous misconception on their part. A businesslike viewpoint is vital if they are to succeed in realizing their intentions.’’26 Kakehashi asserts that the field of music is best considered in terms of 4 components: (A) Artists, players, and composers, (B) Music publication and commercial recording, (C) Manufacturers of musical instruments, and (D) Education. Like Yamaha’s educational visionary Genichi Kawakami, Kakehashi views education as a component of industry, not a separate entity. Kakehashi has also proposed a tripartite model of music industry that he describes as a ‘‘more contemporary’’ conceptualization: (1) Hardware: Means and equipment for playing music. (2) Software: Music scores and data to support the playing. (3) Artware: Artistic talent – The absolute core of the music business.27 Roland is highly regarded internationally as a manufacturer of high quality keyboard instruments that are used in various styles of popular music. The remarkable accomplishments of the company’s CEO have been described as follows: Promoted to Chairman of the Roland Group, Ikutaro Kakehashi had achieved many of his aims by the end of 1991. With multiple manufacturing companies, including Roland, Boss, Rodgers and Roland DG, the Rhodes brand name, and around 20 jointly held distribution companies, his position was secure as one of the all-time great

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pioneers of the synth and hi-tech music industry. He had even been awarded an honourary Doctorate in 1991 by the world-renowned Berklee College of Music.28

In 2001 Roland expanded into community music education in Japan by acquiring a network of music schools called Victor Music Technique.29 Kakehashi also retired in that year due to old age. Roland’s direct contributions to music education may have remained underdeveloped until recent years, but the company has long played an important role in the music industry and is increasingly committed to educational endeavors. Kawai. Another one of the world’s most productive musical instrument companies, Kawai Musical Instruments Manufacturing Company, Ltd., was originally founded by Koichi Kawai (1886–1955) as an offshoot of Nippon Gakki (Yamaha). From the late 1890s, Koichi Kawai had worked for Yamaha, but in 1927, a decade following the death of Yamaha’s founder, the company was experiencing financial and labor difficulties. Kawai left to start his own instrument company, which was incorporated in 1951. In 1955, Koichi Kawai passed away at the age of 70, but his son Shigeru Kawai quickly took charge of the company and in 1956 launched an ambitious new music education program, the Kawai Music School system for students and the Kawai Academy of Music for music teacher training. In 1989, Shigeru’s son Hirotaka Kawai became the third generation President of Kawai. By the end of the twentieth century, Kawai Musical Instruments Manufacturing Company, Ltd. became ‘‘the second largest producer of pianos in Japan, the world’s largest producer of that instrument.’’30 The company boasts ‘‘nearly $1 billion annually in worldwide sales . . . employing over 4,000 people across four continents’’.31 Korg. Electronic musical instrument maker Korg was founded by Tsutomu Katoh and Tadashi Osanai in 1963. The company explains its inception as follows: In the early 1960s, Korg founder Tsutomu Katoh was a nightclub proprietor. Tadashi Osanai, a noted Japanese accordionist, performed regularly at Katoh’s club. Katoh told Osanai that it would be nice to have a rhythm machine to keep the beat. Osanai, an engineering graduate from Japan’s prestigious Tokyo University, was certain he could build a rhythm machine himself, and convinced Katoh to finance his efforts.32

Following these early experiments, the company’s business was ‘‘constructing rhythm units for Yamaha’s Electone electronic organs,’’ but it would later become ‘‘one of the most successful Japanese manufacturers of electronic instruments,’’ in which Yamaha held a 40% stake since 1986.33 Korg has also become one of the world’s leading producers of hardware and software for music technology classrooms. The company is a major sponsor of various educational projects in Japan and even at the Berklee School of Music in Boston, which has a large number of Japanese students. Its educational division called SoundTree is increasingly active outside of Japan in the promotion of music technology in schools.34 It is surely no coincidence that a strong tradition of music education, both within and outside of schools, developed in a nation that had also produced the world’s most profitable and innovative musical instrument industry. Although much of the emphasis of the companies described here has been in the areas of

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keyboards and technological devices, notable relationships are evident between these companies and both school and community education, particularly in the case of the Yamaha Corporation.

13.4 Professional Wind Bands in Japan Japan is among a very small number of nations in the world that supports fulltime professional wind bands that are independent of military and police organizations and religious institutions. What has caused this unique development of professional wind bands, and why did it occur in Japan rather than other nations? Such questions are not easily answered through traditional historiography, but sociological theory may provide a robust foundation from which to address this matter. Before moving to such sociological analysis, it is useful to take a closer look at the two most notable professional wind bands in Japan, the Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra and the Osaka Municipal Symphonic Band. The Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra (TKWO). When one of the few boys in the Ishikawa Middle School Band was asked what he thought was the greatest band in Japan, he enthusiastically responded, ‘‘I have heard the Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra!’’ He then proceeded to explain that he owned several of their CDs. This is merely one example among many, of school band members, and directors, explicitly mentioning the Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra, which has been previously identified as the most influential wind band in Japan.35 There are many clear indications of the pervasive influence of TKWO among Japanese school bands, from large, glossy posters hung on the walls of band rooms (with images of TKWO section leaders), to the participation of TKWO members as adjudicators at the AJBA national contest, to the fact that most of the repertoire performed by Japanese school bands has been professionally recorded by TKWO and commercially released on CD in Japan (by the same religious corporation that owns Fumon Hall). While it would be inaccurate to say that TWKO, as an organization, is directly involved in the training of most Japanese band directors, it does sponsor band workshops and give outreach concerts in schools, and its powerful influence as a performance model, via concerts and professional recordings, is undeniable. Furthermore, individual TKWO members are highly active as band clinicians and instrumental pedagogues. When asked about the relevance of the Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra, Kato Sensei explained, ‘‘we often listen to their CDs, and they do various kinds of performances that soon influence bands. They mail information about their concerts directly to school bands and are strong self-promoters.’’ When asked to suggest other professional groups that serve as models for Japanese school bands, Kato Sensei assured me that the Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra is certainly the most important model for school bands, and that only within the Kansai area is it somewhat rivaled only by the local Osaka Municipal Band.

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In recent decades, the Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra has come to be widely regarded as the world’s leading professional civilian wind band. In terms of ticket sales and recording outputs, this band and its only notable rival, Osaka Municipal Symphonic Band, strongly resemble major symphony orchestras, and are also highly active in the commissioning and performance of new compositions. The Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra is patronized by the Rissho Kosei-Kai, a lay Buddhist organization with a unique doctrine, and its Fumon Hall headquarters on the religion’s main campus in central Tokyo also host the All-Japan Band Association national competition. The ensemble typically makes the premier recordings of required pieces for the AJBA competition and its members serve as contest adjudicators. The Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra was founded in 1960, and in 1966 the Rissho Kosei-Kai President Niwano described the role of music as follows: Another means of propaganda is music. At the headquarters, we have the Kosei Classical Ceremonial Music Group, the Kosei Brass Band and the Kosei Chorus Group. They present performances at the events of this society and also of the world in general, and at the institutions for the needy with the intention of fostering religious sentiment and establishing better relations with the world through music.36

In 1985 the Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra’s official mission was explained in a concert program as follows: The orchestra’s fundamental philosophy is for its musicians to attain ever-higher levels of musical excellence through constant improvement in personal character. Its permanent objective is to utilize music to cultivate rich human feeling and to make an important contribution to a more positive and progressive society.37

Probably the main reason this band came to be widely known outside of Japan is the influence of Frederick Fennell (1914–2004), who served as its director from 1984 to 1994. Widely regarded as the most influential wind conductor of the late twentieth century, Fennell may be credited with steering the band toward playing a higher level of repertoire and releasing numerous recordings through a multimedia publishing company that is also owned by Rissho Kosei Kai. Eventually their efforts would produce a steady stream of accolades from abroad. In 1989, for example, the international distribution of a mere fraction of the ensemble’s recordings was hailed as ‘‘one of the major releases of the decade’’ and ‘‘almost an encyclopedic survey of symphonic wind music.’’38 Today, posters of the Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra hang in the band rooms of many Japanese schools, and students use their definitive recordings as performance models. In 2006, an article from the Rissho Kosei-kai’s online newsletter regarding Fennell and the Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra concluded as follows: In recent years, in the midst of globalization, the world has suffered much antagonism and many conflicts, because of divisions between races and religions and due to the prevalence of nationalism. In this confused age, it is indispensable that people deeply understand each other through culture and arts, such as music, and share the impression with others. In the arena of contributions to world peace, great things are expected of TOKWO and Maestro Fennell.39

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Osaka Municipal Symphonic Band. Another professional wind ensemble that is quite influential in Japan is the Osaka Municipal Symphonic Band (OMSB), which claims to be the oldest surviving western orchestral ensemble in Japan. In 1934, the Osakashi Ongakudai (Osaka Band Corps), which had been an armyaffiliated band since 1923, was brought under the authority of Osaka City, and in 1946, the ensemble changed its name to become the less militaristic sounding Osakashi Ongakudan, or Osaka Municipal Symphonic Band.40 This ensemble and other military bands that regularly performed in Osaka’s Tennouji Park during the period of colonial expansion have been credited with inspiring the development of other wind bands throughout Japan prior to the emergence of the Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra.41 In 1981, the Osaka Municipal Symphonic Band moved into its own office, rehearsal, and performance facilities provided by Osaka city nearby the famous castle at Osakajo Koen. The ensemble began performing numerous concerts from this location. By 1996, the Osaka Municipal Symphonic Band had begun releasing CDs, and in 2000 began producing a series of Live Performance CDs, beginning with their 80th regular concert. Legitimation of tradition. Reflecting on the case of Japanese wind bands, it now becomes possible to recognize the conditions that have led to the development of such a strong wind band tradition in this nation, ranging from youth bands through professional ensembles. Despite having only been a significant part of Japanese schools for a few generations, wind bands appear to have solidly attained legitimacy as a significant musical and education practice. The wider context in which this process occurred seems worth further exploration. In order for newly developed, or newly introduced, art forms to attain legitimacy within a social system, certain conditions are necessary. As Shyon Baumann has observed, ‘‘Discrete areas of cultural production attain legitimacy as art, high or popular, during periods of high cultural opportunity through mobilizing material or institutional resources and through the exercise of a discourse that frames the cultural production as legitimate art according to one or more preexisting ideologies.’’42 Thus, according to Baumann’s model, the legitimization of new art movements requires three fundamental elements: (1) political opportunity, (2) mobilizing resources, and (3) frames of discourse. As this study has demonstrated, Japanese wind bands began as a feature of militarization, but later became integrated into schools with the support of music industry. A system of national band competitions developed, which was supported by nationalistic ideology and required a particular kind of technical showpiece. Composers responded to this unique market by producing original works that met the specific needs of a national competition while also touching at the core of Japanese spiritual beliefs.43 Professional ensembles also arose and flourished with the support of a large base of consumers among amateur bands. The kind of music transculturation that ensued entailed what is arguably a more egalitarian view of western music ensembles, in which wind bands were provided the opportunity to flourish as in no other nation before.

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13.5 Concluding Remarks This chapter opened with the traditional Japanese kotowaza ‘‘Suteru kami areba hirou kami ari.’’ Indeed, previous chapters have shown that many associated with the wind band scene in Japan sense that their efforts are unsupported and unappreciated by the educational establishment; However, this chapter has shown that in the place of an education god, a powerful music industry god has arisen and offered its support for the establishment and maintenance of a vibrant tradition of wind bands in Japanese schools. While detailed discussion of the successes of Japanese music industry and theorizing as to its causes is beyond the scope of this book, some basic understanding of this sphere of activity seems essential in order to consider the broader cultural context of Japanese wind bands. Indeed, I do not hesitate to assert it is no coincidence that such a successful system of wind bands emerged in a nation that has also contained most of the world’s largest music related companies, at every stage of music production and consumption, from the companies that record and market artists, to the production of musical instruments, distribution of sound recordings, production of equipment used in recording studios, and even the devices on which music is played. Japan has clearly been situated at the center of much of the global music industry for several decades. In fact, music has become such a powerful industry in Japan that concerns have been expressed regarding a ‘‘labyrinth of culture industrialization.’’ Bin Ebisawa, President of Kunitachi College of Music, one of Japan’s largest music conservatories, even observed that as a result of so much new music technology in Japan, ‘‘Now it looks like we are nearing the twilight of music education based on acoustic instruments, particularly European traditional instruments.’’44 Many are now questioning what the future will hold for wind bands in Japan. Have they already reached their height of popularity and their peak of achievement? Because the number of students, hence the number of schools, is rapidly deceasing, the future market for musical instruments in Japan looks increasingly limited, and it is rather difficult for anyone to predict the direction music education might take in the future.

Notes 1. See Tanaka (1998), p. 256. 2. See Takahagi (1994), p. 209. During the late twentieth century, Yasuharu Takahagi was among the most well-known music education professors in Japan, having been the only Japanese to date to serve as President of the International Society for Music Education. He taught at Tokyo Gakugei University for many years. 3. See Burdett (1986). 4. Review Chapter 2 for historical discussion of chindonya. 5. See Kobayashi (2000). 6. Hiyama (1990), p. 87. 7. See Davies, Good, and Tarr (2007).

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8. 9. 10. 11.

See Hiyama (1990), pp. 292–293. See Origins of the Yamaha Brand (n.d.). See Miranda (2000) for a study of instructional practices within a Yamaha school. See Kawakami (1987), pp. 120–121. Also see Makiguchi (1989) for an insightful philosophical perspective on problems associated with traditional education in Japan. See Kawakami (1987), p. 153. See Kawakami (1987), p. 316. See Kawakami (1987), p. 291. See Kawakami (1987), p. 293. See Kawakami (1987), p. 129. See Kawakami (1987), p. 369. Also see Kawanari (2000). See Kawakami (1987), p. 31. See Kawakami (1987), p. 176. See Kawakami (1987), p. 234. See Kawakami (1987), pp. 103 and 171. See Kawakami (1987), pp. 261 and 164. See Kawakami (1987), p. 163. This point is particularly interesting as one considers the biographies of what were arguably the three most influential Japanese musicians in western music idioms during the twentieth century. Composer Toru Takemitsu, conductor Seiji Ozawa, and jazz arranger Toshiko Akiyoshi were all Manchurian-born Japanese who mostly studied music outside Japan and were unable to gain significant recognition in Japan until after attaining great success abroad. The uncanny similarities that unite these three artists appear to have not yet been addressed in previous publications. See Miyamoto’s survey (2003). See Yamaha Corporation (n.d.). See Kakehashi and Olsen (2002). See Kakehashi and Olsen (2002), p. 25. See Reid (2005c). Also see Reid (2005a, 2005b, 2004a, 2004b). See Reid (2005c). See Kawai Corporation (n.d.). See Ehrlich and Good (2007). According to Ishizumi (1990), ‘‘In 1957, the FTC initiated proceedings against the Yamaha Corporation in connection with Yamaha’s ownership of shares in the Kawai Musical Instruments Company, one of Yamaha’s direct competitors: at the time, Yamaha owned 24.5% of Kawai. The FTC considered that Yamaha’s indirect equity relationship with Kawai was substantially harming competition in the market. This case was also settled by consent decree, whereby Yamaha was forced to reduce its ownership in Kawai from 24.5 to 9.5%’’ (pp. 195–196). See Korg (n.d.). See Davies (2007). See the SoundTree website (http://www.soundtree.com). See Hebert (2001a) for further discussion. See Rissho Kosei-kai (1966), p. 117. See Hebert (2001a), p. 216. See McDonald (1989) for discussion. See Saito (n.d.). See Osakashi Ongakudan (2003), p. 16. See Hosokawa (2001). See Baumann (2006), p. 60. It should also be noted that generally, Japanese industry ‘‘overturns’’ many of the ‘‘established principles of manufacture’’ associated with European and North American companies (Kaplinsky & Posthuma, 1994, p. 19). Specifically, eight specific ‘‘areas of production organization’’ have been identified as key factors in the success of Japanese manufacturers: (1) the handling of inventories; (2) the approach to quality; (3) the layout of the factory; (4) the determination of optimum batch and lot

12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23.

24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31.

32. 33. 34. 35. 36. 37. 38. 39. 40. 41. 42.

References

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sizes; (5) the organization of work; (6) the reaping of systemic gains and the introduction of work-teams; (7) changes in inter-firm linkages; and (8) instituting processes of continuous change (Kaplinsky & Posthuma, 1994, pp. 19–20). Holistically, this approach may be viewed as ‘‘a system which makes relatively light use of embodied capital and intensive use of human beings’’ (Kaplinsky & Posthuma, 1994, p. 34). 43. Koji Matsunobu (2007) identified key characteristics of Japanese spirituality of relevance to music learning, including ‘‘(a) an insignificance of human existence in contrast with the natural environment; (b) a feeling of awe toward nature; (c) a connectedness with ancestors; (d) a reference to individuals’ inner strength; and (e) a sense of absolute power without reference to a particular religion’’ (p. 1425). 44. See Tanaka (1998), pp. 239–240.

References Baumann, S. (2006). A general theory of artistic legitimation: How art worlds are like social movements. Poetics: Journal of Empirical Research on Literature, Media and the Arts, 37, 47–65. Burdett, N. D. (1986). The high school music contest movement in the United States. Doctoral dissertation, Boston University (AAT 8609289). Davies, H. (2007). Korg. In L. Macy (Ed.), Grove music online. Retrieved September 10, 2007, from http://www.grovemusic.com Davies, H., Good, E. M., & Tarr, E. H. (2007). Yamaha. In L. Macy (Ed.), Grove music online. Retrieved September 10, 2007, from http://www.grovemusic.com Ehrlich, C., & Good, E. M. (2007). Kawai. In L. Macy (Ed.), Grove music online. Retrieved September 10, 2007, from http://www.grovemusic.com Hebert, D. G. (2001a). The Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra: A case study of intercultural music transmission. Journal of Research in Music Education, 49(3), 212–226. Hiyama, R. (1990). Gakki sangyo: Ongaku gakki bijinesu hayawakari dokuhon [Music industry: An introductory reader to the music and instrument business]. Tokyo: Myujikku Turedosha. Hosokawa, S. (2001). Seikaino burasubando, burasubandono seikai. In K. Abe, S. Hosokawa, &Y. Tsukahara (Eds.), Burasubando no shakaishi (pp. 55–81). Tokyo: Seikyusha. Ishizumi, K. (1990). Acquiring Japanese companies: Mergers and acquisitions in the Japanese market. Oxford: Basil Blackwell. Kakehashi, I., & Olsen, R. (2002). I believe in music: Life experiences and thoughts on the future of electronic music by the founder of the Roland Corporation. Milwaukee: Hal Leonard. Kaplinsky, R., & Posthuma, A. (1994). Easternization: The spread of Japanese management techniques to developing countries. Portland, OR: Frank Cass. Kawai Corporation. (n.d.). The future of the piano – History, Kawai legacy. Retrieved January 9, 2007, from http://www.kawai.net.au/history.html Kawakami, G. (1987). Reflections on music popularization. Tokyo: Yamaha Music Foundation. Kawanari, Y. (2000). Daigaku houkai [The collapse of universities]. Tokyo: Takarajimasha. Kobayashi, T. (2000). ‘It all began with a broken organ’: The role of Yamaha in Japan’s music development. In B. Hans-Joachim (Ed.), ‘I sing the body electric’: Music and technology in the 20th century (pp. 59–66). Hofheim: Wolke, for the 23rd symposium of the International Committee for the History of Technology (ICOHTEC), Budapest. Korg. (n.d.). Korg corporate history. Retrieved January 9, 2007, from http://www.korg.com/ print.html Makiguchi, T. (1989). Education for creative living: Ideas and proposals of Tsunesaburo Makiguchi. Ames: Iowa State University Press.

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Matsunobu, K. (2007). Japanese spirituality and music practice: Art as self-cultivation. In L. Bresler (Ed.), International handbook of research in arts education (pp. 1425–1438). Dordrecht: Springer. McDonald, R. (1989, September). East meets West: The winds of change. Fanfare, 13(1), 91–104. Miranda, M. L. (2000). Developmentally appropriate practice in a Yamaha Music School. Journal of Research in Music Education, 48(4), 294–309. Miyamoto, Y. (2003). Sukuurubando genjouto sonokaiketsusakuwo motomete: Kyouzai toshiteno suisougakkyokuno kenkyuto sonokeitoudzuke [The status quo of school bands and search for a plan of resolution: Research on band instructional pieces and their organization]. Unpublished manuscript. Origins of the Yamaha Brand. (n.d.). Retrieved September 10, 2007, from http://www.global. yamaha.com/about/brand/index.html Osakashi Ongakudan. (2003). Osakashi Ongakudan Hachiju Shunen Kinenshi. Osaka: Zaidan Hojin Osakashi Kyoiku Shinko Kosha. Reid, G. (2005a, March). The history of Roland: Part 5: 1998–2004. Sound on sound. Retrieved January 9, 2007, from http://www.soundonsound.com/ Reid, G. (2005b, February). The history of Roland: Part 4: 1992–1997. Sound on sound. Retrieved January 9, 2007, from http://www.soundonsound.com/ Reid, G. (2005c, January). The history of Roland: Part 3: 1986–1991. Sound on sound. Retrieved January 9, 2007, from http://www.soundonsound.com/ Reid, G. (2004a, December). The history of Roland: Part 2: 1979–1985. Sound on sound. Retrieved January 9, 2007, from http://www.soundonsound.com/ Reid, G. (2004b, November). The history of Roland: Part 1: 1930–1978. Sound on sound. Retrieved January 9, 2007, from http://www.soundonsound.com/ Rissho Kosei-kai. (1966). Rissho Kosei-kai. Tokyo: Kosei Publishing. Saito, Y. (n.d.). The first performance of the Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra in the United States, and the Contributions of Maestro Frederick Fennell. Retrieved January 9, 2007, from http:// www.rk-world.org/news/tokwo.html Takahagi, Y. (1994). A Japanese perspective. In M. Comte (Ed.), Music education: International viewpoints (pp. 205–210). Nedlands: University of Western Australia. Tanaka, K. (1998). Denshigakki Sangyoron [A history of the electronic musical instrument industry]. Tokyo: Kobunsha. Yamaha Corporation. (n.d.). About Yamaha corporation. Retrieved September 10, 2007, from http://www.yamaha.com/aboutyamaha.asp

Chapter 14

Metaphors of a Japanese Band Community

言わぬが花 Iwanu ga hana ‘‘Not speaking is the flower’’ – much is best left unsaid

This chapter examines how a sense of musical community is constructed through the collective use of metaphors in the discourse of Japanese wind band members. Marie McCarthy described communities as ‘‘important repositories of symbols, the mental constructs that provide people with the means to make meaning and perceive the boundaries of a particular social group.’’1 She also linked this notion of community to music, writing that ‘‘The generational transmission of music is a primary site for inducting the young into a group’s musical practices and traditions, and through that process immersing them in communal values and passing on traditions that link the generations, symbolically and musically.’’2 Expanding on McCarthy’s position, this chapter introduces concepts from the field of metaphor theory in order to demonstrate how notions of community are socially formed through the reification of key metaphorical constructs. This theoretical perspective is then applied to examination of how specific metaphors are used in discourse to construct a unified sense of purpose and meaning within the band community.3

14.1 Communities of Learning The theoretical contributions of Lev Vygotsky have already been discussed in relation to the model of teaching and cooperative learning observed within the Ishikawa Middle School band, particularly how a sense of community is formed through its rehearsals. Several theoretical concepts serve as a backdrop from which to delve further into examination of how this community is constructed. Etienne Wenger’s concept of ‘‘communities of practice’’ consists of a theoretical framework for analysis of how learning occurs within the context of particular subcultures and social networks.4 Extending on many of Vygotsky’s D.G. Hebert, Wind Bands and Cultural Identity in Japanese Schools, 217 Landscapes: the Arts, Aesthetics, and Education 9, DOI 10.1007/978-94-007-2178-4_14, Ó Springer ScienceþBusiness Media B.V. 2012

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ideas, this view of learning emphasizes the role of cultural context, a perspective that differs radically from traditional approaches that have tended to take a more reductive view of learning as the reception of instructional content and subsequent mastery of key outcomes.5 Rather, Wenger begins with a broad view of learning, as a process that occurs collectively while the human species struggles to make sense of the world and construct meaning from the experience of life. Regarding this holistic learning process, Wenger wrote: Being alive as human beings means that we are constantly engaged in the pursuit of enterprises of all kinds, from ensuring our physical survival to the most lofty pleasures. As we define these enterprises and engage in their pursuit together, we interact with each other and with the world and we tune our relations with each other and the world accordingly. In other words we learn.6

Based upon this notion of collective learning, Wenger introduced the ‘‘community of practice’’ concept as follows: Over time, this collective learning results in practices that reflect both the pursuit of our enterprises and the attendant social relations. These practices are thus the property of a kind of community created over time by the sustained pursuit of a shared enterprise. It makes sense, therefore, to call these kinds of communities, communities of practice.7

In this way, learning is closely associated with the notion of praxis, of collectively established ways of acting (operating as an individual agent within a social structure) and being (constructing meaning and defining self identity), a feature that engenders analysis of social interaction within natural learning environments. Wenger’s view is compatible with Vygotsky’s notion of the ‘‘Zone of Proximal Development’’, as the teacher and older peers take on the role of scaffolding learning in order to facilitate activities that guide learners toward attainment of valued competencies, enabling them to become full participants in the community. From a description of this theoretical model of community, proceeds a discussion of the role of metaphor as key to an examination of how notions of community and identity are constructed in musical contexts. Why does mere symbolism matter for this discussion? Music education scholar Patricia Shehan Campbell wrote that ‘‘music offers children powerful aural images by which they come to understand themselves symbolically and emotionally. Music is the repository for their varied moods, a means by which they can relate to who they are (or are in the process of becoming) at particular times and places.’’8 Moreover, music education philosopher Estelle Jorgensen has observed that ‘‘society is as much shaped by music as music is shaped by society. Through singing and playing musical instruments, people create a corporal sense of their identity. The texts their songs employ and values their musics express reinforce their beliefs and practices and educate their young.’’9 Taking these positions into account, it follows that analysis of how meaning is constructed through music participation engenders key insights into the significance of musical practices in the context of education and culture.

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Metaphors of Community

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14.2 Metaphors of Community Among the fundamental objectives of ethnography is to gain an understanding of the cultural insider’s perspective. This is often a daunting task, yet one of the more effective ways of both unraveling and communicating the insider’s perspective is through examination of the use of metaphor in sociocultural context. This is because the collective practice of metaphor use enables community to be defined through the discourse of a social group. In other words, detailed analysis of metaphor use may demonstrate how the Ishikawa Middle School band defines itself as a community. In their landmark treatise on the topic of metaphor, linguist George Lakoff and philosopher Mark Johnson wrote the following: [Metaphor] is pervasive in everyday life, not just in language but in thought and action. . . . Our concepts structure what we perceive, how we get around in the world, and how we relate to other people. Our conceptual system thus plays a central role in defining our everyday realities. If we are right in suggesting that our conceptual system is largely metaphorical, then the way we think, what we experience, and what we do every day is very much a matter of metaphor.10

How does this concept relate to behaviors and meanings within a Japanese school band? Certainly a rehearsal atmosphere that emphasizes the objective of ‘‘winning,’’ or the goal of ‘‘matching’’ one’s sound with a recorded model, indicates the pervasive projection of key metaphorical constructs. Symbolic anthropologist James Fernandez defined metaphor as ‘‘the statement of an association between things that are normally categorized in separate domains of experience. This association cannot be based on designative or literal defining features but rather on the figurative or connotative features the two things have in common.’’11 Within Ishikawa Middle School band rehearsals, when a musical phrase is referred to as ‘‘delicious,’’ or band members are described as giving, or not giving, all of their ‘‘blood and tears’’, metaphor is clearly at play. The role of metaphor has remained relatively unexamined in the field of music education ethnography, yet within related fields its significance has already been made quite evident. A series of collaborative studies in the field of metaphor by linguist George Lakoff and philosopher Mark Johnson have sought to examine the ‘‘structure of our inner lives as we experience them phenomenologically.’’12 Lakoff and Johnson have identified a need for further naturalistic study of metaphor use in Japanese discourse: Given the radical differences between American and Japanese cultures, this raises the question of just how universal are experiences of inner life and the metaphors used to reason about them. Though we have no access to the inner lives of those in radically different cultures, we do have access to their metaphor systems and the way they reason using those metaphor systems.13

Regarding the role of metaphor for the construction of musical meaning Johnson wrote, ‘‘My hypothesis is that the very same patterns of bodily

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perception, activity and feeling that structure our musical experience also structure our conceptualizations of it.’’14 Further, ‘‘We understand ‘musical forces’ via metaphors grounded in aspects of physical force. . . . Metaphorically, we use our understanding of physical forces to conceptualize musical forces. In this way, the bodily basis of meaning is carried up into our abstract conceptualization and reasoning regarding music.’’15 The model of metaphor discussed by Johnson and Lakoff emphasizes embodiment, or how metaphor enables humans to make sense of their lives by linking phenomenological experience with iconic conceptual constructs. This analysis will move to issues related to embodiment in the interpretation of metaphorical discourse, but for now the broader role of symbolic structures and practices associated with the world of Japanese bands will be introduced.

14.3 Symbolism in the Band World Architecture as meaningful, or not. Music scholars have documented the significance of architectural space for musical performance.16 Explicit examples of the Buddhist symbolism associated with Fumon Hall, where the AJBA competition is held, have been described: the statue of the Buddhist goddess Kannon, and the use of lotus motifs and colors associated with Japanese Buddhist temples. Another important symbol is the Asahi newspaper icon, displayed prominently on the right side of the stage. This symbol consists of one diagonal corner of the old Japanese wartime flag, which was largely neglected after World War II. Offices associated with Japan’s most famous wind band (Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra) are housed within the Rissho Kosei Kai campus, of which Fumon Hall is a part. Nevertheless, within the interview, the AJBA Director insisted that there are no significant ties with the religious organization. Competition as natural. In terms of biological and evolutionary argument, any win/lose contest may be interpreted as a symbolic representation of universal human characteristics; namely, the timeless theme of competition for material resources and reproductive partners. Viewed in this way, competition is most strongly associated with a male gender image, or more specifically, ‘‘the alpha male’’: the clashing of antlers, and the marking of one’s territory with strategic sprays of urine are the kinds of images that come to mind. Yet it is this very relationship that distances competition from what art in the Western tradition is commonly conceived as embodying: the essence of what separates human from beast, an image often conveyed as androgynous, or even feminine. Interestingly, at the final level of the 2002 AJBA competition, all the band directors and association leaders presenting awards were men, yet most of the participating performers were girls and women. Among some Japanese band directors, the very concept of school bands without competition may be difficult to imagine, and for most, competitive events serve to structure the annual schedule of their programs.

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Gold as achievement/Silver as failure. Related to the annual competition was the belief among Ishikawa Middle School band members that gold and silver awards truly embody reliable indications of musical achievement. The importance of this symbolism was reified by other practices: directors of bands that won gold awards in the previous year wear gold ribbons on their shoulders while conducting at the AJBA competition, Ishikawa Middle School band students used gold markers to write ‘‘GOLD’’ on their sheet music, etc. And, as discussed earlier, silver awards resulted in tears and feelings of inadequacy, and even guilt, that lingered through the entire academic year.

14.4 Embodiment Metaphors in Band Argot Each of the aforementioned examples entail specific cases of symbolic meaning within the world of Japanese bands, however these are not classified as metaphors in the strictest sense of the term. Metaphors are most readily apparent within the spoken discourse of a community, and discourse within the Ishikawa Middle School band emphasized many special terms and phrases. Tudge observed that within Vygotskian peer collaborations, ‘‘Words that already have meaning for mature members of a cultural group come to have those same meanings for the young of the group in the process of interaction.’’17 Statements from section leaders and other experienced Sempai are easily identified from among the interview transcripts by way of demonstrating the greatest communicative competence in terms of frequent use of buraban zokugo (band slang) terminology. And a particularly striking difference is noticeable between first- and second-year students in terms of mastery over such subcultural argot. Within their first year of participation in band, most students quickly learn to ‘‘talk the talk’’ appropriate to the school band setting. Examples of the explicit use of metaphor within band rehearsals will now be introduced, later proceeding to discussion of metaphors of embodiment. Putting things in order. The practice of cleaning the Ishikawa Middle School band room together as an ensemble was described earlier in this book. Several researchers and other observers have documented the role of students in the cleaning of Japanese schools. Kuwayama observed that within such school rituals, [It] is not the object being cleaned, but rather the mind and the body of the person who is doing the cleaning, that is important. Thus, seri seiton (putting things in order) is considered a first step toward moral integrity in Japan. . . . Given the fact that the basic category of distinction in Shinto is between purity and impurity, we might say that cleaning has almost a religious meaning in Japan.18

It is also relevant that Japanese baths have gained international attention for their therapeutic value, and in most traditional families, nightly bathing is a ritualized practice. By cleaning the band room together, Ishikawa Middle

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School students indicated a sense of ‘‘ownership’’ of the ensemble, and of a family-like community, yet also demonstrated a commitment to maintaining high standards in terms of social organization. Kohai are flocked like sheep. This metaphor was repeatedly used by Ishikawa Middle School band members, and is documented in field notes and preserved in audio and video recordings. Among the two terms most commonly used to explain the role of Sempai in relation to Kohai were muragaru (to flock, herd) and chuui suru (to look after, or watch over). The trumpet part leader’s description was particularly insightful: ‘‘The Bucho [club leader] needs to be somebody who is able to herd others (muragaru), take care of them, and carry them to the best way. . . . [The part leaders] need to run the group rehearsals within the sections, to be able to tend others (chuui suru), and make them become uniform.’’ From her ethnographic study of several preschool and elementary schools, Lewis concluded that ‘‘Japanese teachers often keep a low profile as authority figures . . . teachers try to build students’ capacity to self-manage. Children quiet classmates before lessons, lead class meetings, make class rules, and solve problems that arise.’’19 On the other hand, Duke critically observed that ‘‘Japanese children generally learn to ‘sway with the breeze’ in order to maintain group harmony. The herd instinct at the expense of individuality is an underlying motive in this society.’’20 Regardless of how one may interpret the broader ethical implications, it is clear from data collected in the present study that the metaphor of herding was widely used by cultural insiders to conceptualize mentorship practices established within the Ishikawa Middle School band. Pain promotes progress. The metaphor of pain as a necessary step toward achievement served as one of the fundamental tropes within Ishikawa Middle School band rehearsals. There were many indications that physical pain is a normal outcome to be expected as part of the sacrifice associated with learning to play an instrument. The bravery associated with endurance of pain through long rehearsals was widely respected by the band members. Within several sectional rehearsals I observed young Kohai literally stop playing on their instruments, bring their hands to their sore faces or tired fingers and softly whimper, ‘‘Ittai’’ (it hurts). Such behaviors served as the cue for older Sempai to reply with comments like, ‘‘So, so, so. Motto gamman shinakya’’ (Yeah, yeah, that’s right. You must endure it longer). Within interviews, Ishikawa Middle School band members explained that through countless repetitions, pain would gradually become less noticeable, and that further progress could only continue to be made through maintaining a relentless willingness to keep bravely confronting pain, including that of mental fatigue and exhaustion due to long hours of rehearsal. Matching produces beauty. Among the very most common criticisms associated with negative feedback from both Kato Sensei (within the gassou context) and the section leaders (within paatore) was the statement ‘‘Awanai’’, meaning, ‘‘It doesn’t match.’’ In fact, the most fundamental aesthetic principle promoted within the school band rehearsals was that ‘‘matching’’ one’s sound that of with others produces beauty. Rather than sticking out as an individual, it was essential to blend perfectly with the group. This applied to matching of pitch, and to the

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balancing of parts within and across instrumental sections. Yet, it also applied more broadly to other kinds of behaviors. Section leaders were responsible for ensuring the achievement of unity (danketsu) within their sections. This extended even to the seating posture and instrument-holding position of players, and the exact moment at which instruments are positioned to play after a pause within the music. On several occasions during gassou rehearsals, section leaders of the Ishikawa Middle School band were observed ‘‘herding’’ their Sempai toward danketsu through a combination of gestures and whispers. In addition to such broad metaphors, several common phrases used in the band context are associated with embodiment, and provide an important indication of how relationships between mind and body are perceived in this musical context (Fig. 14.1). The phrase ‘‘yubi de oboeru’’ (remember by fingers) was often heard in sectional rehearsals. Particularly, when younger players were first learning their instruments, this phrase was used by section leaders in explaining how best to approach scales and other drills. Each instrumental section had a few exercises (mostly scales and arpeggios) that were commonly used in the sectional rehearsals called kisoren (literally, ‘‘basi-prac,’’ an elision of ‘‘basic’’ and ‘‘practice’’). By use of the phrase, ‘‘remember by fingers’’ younger band members were encouraged to practice to the point that the sound would be automatically produced without conscious mental effort. This approach was later applied to challenging sections of the middle school band repertoire. ‘‘Kokoro de hiku’’ was a phrase commonly used to emphasize the expressive aspects of performing in the middle school band. This usage seemed similar to the English phrase, ‘‘play with your heart,’’ and has nearly identical connotations. ‘‘Onaka de fuku’’ (play with your stomach) was also commonly used within the band to indicate use of the diaphragm for proper breath support, yet it was also used more broadly to discuss a confident-sounding performance, reinforced by a sense of strength and firm resolve. Another common metaphorical phrase was ‘‘ongakuni warewo wasureru’’ (lose oneself in music). This notion was used to praise the concentration evident among instrumentalists who had managed to reach – or at least convince their peers that they had reached – a semi-hypnotic state through intense and prolonged musical repetitions during sectional rehearsals.21 To have reached this mental state was viewed as an admirable indication of utter devotion to the

Term 1) Yubi de oboeru 2) Kokoro de hiku 3) Onaka de fuku 4) Ongakuni war ewo wasureru 5) Kimochiwo shuchusaseru 6) Chimo namidamonai

Literal meaning Remember by fingers Play through the heart Blow through stomach Lose oneself in music Focus feelings No blood or tears

Functional meaning Develop manual technique Expressive performance Perform with energy Rehearse into a trance Ultimate concentration Inhuman and uncommitted

Fig. 14.1 Embodiment metaphors from Japanese band expressions

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ensemble. Another important metaphor commonly encountered in Japanese schools that has been identified in previous research is ‘‘kokoro o hitotsu (unite our hearts, or literally, to make our hearts one).’’22 Although this example was not explicitly noticed in the Ichikawa Middle School band context, it was commonly used by interviewees associated with other wind bands. Ishikawa Middle School band members were also encouraged by Kato Sensei and section leaders to ‘‘kimochiwo shuchusaseru’’ (focus feelings). This expression indicated the need to concentrate on the musical phrase with all of oneself, including a depth of emotion. Students viewed as jeopardizing the outcome of the ensemble by not committing to a sufficient intensity of effort in rehearsal were described as ‘‘chimo namidamonai’’ (no blood or tears). This phrase suggested that such students are not only uncaring and uncommitted, but even inhumane. Band members were expected to sacrifice themselves, to experience pain, and invest sufficient emotion to weep for the ensemble when appropriate. This was particularly clear at the conclusion of important performances, when nearly all the Ishikawa Middle School band members would publicly shed tears. Any band member who was unwilling to endure physical pain and fatigue, and unable to cry along with the band during its emotional highs and lows, was perceived as distanced from the very heart of the ensemble. This possibility becomes a deeply felt realization that inevitably guides actions, for Japanese researchers have suggested that among Japanese youth, to be cast as nakama hazure (literally, ‘‘outside the center’’) or sosukan (boycotted, ostracized) may be the very greatest of fears among this age group.23

Notes 1. See McCarthy (1999), p. 186. 2. See McCarthy (1999), p. 186. 3. My interest in this kind of metaphorical analysis was originally inspired by Walser’s (1991) musical application of the theories of Lakoff and Johnson (1980). Much of this material appeared in a chapter of my PhD dissertation, completed in 2004 (and published in 2005), which at the time seemed innovative, but I later learned that other scholars were also taking a very similar approach to the analysis of metaphor and embodiment in the learning of Japanese performing arts (Hahn, 2007; Powell, 2004, 2006). Although this realization felt rather disappointing at first, I eventually understood that to be an immature initial reaction on my part, since this is merely a sign that both the topic and approach matter, and are so relevant as to resonate with other scholars working in related areas. Metaphor has also recently become the main theme of the latest book by a leading music education philosopher (Jorgensen, 2011). Liora Bresler (2006) has outlined a new model of arts education research that also coincides with these themes, and has produced a book containing innovative examples of such approaches (Bresler, 2004). The relevance of this approach to the case of Japanese classrooms is particularly well illustrated in a statement by educationist Nobuo Shimahara: ‘‘Gakkyuzukuri, or the creation of community, is the overriding goal of classroom management. It is inclusive and reflective and enhances selfmanagement. Students are expected to assume multiple roles to achieve self-management’’ (Shimahara, 2003, p. 387).

References 4. 5. 6. 7.

8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21.

22. 23.

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See Wenger (1998). See Gordon (1989). See Wenger (1998), p. 45. See Wenger (1998), p. 45. See Heikinheimo (2009) for examples of how the notion of ‘‘community of practice’’ has been applied in the teaching and learning interactions associated with an elite music conservatory. See Campbell (1998), p. 175. See Jorgensen (2003), p. 30. Elsewhere, Jorgensen (1995) also discusses the theme of ‘‘community’’ in music education. See Lakoff and Johnson (1980), p. 3. See Fernandez (1986), p. 176. See Lakoff and Johnson (1999), p. 288. See Hebert (2009) for discussion of how this notion may even be applied to uses of music in online and virtual environments. See Lakoff and Johnson (1999), p. 284. See Johnson (1997/1998), p. 95. See Johnson (1997/1998), p. 99. See Small (1998). See Tudge (1990), p. 157. See Kuwayama (1996), p. 121. See Lewis (1995), p. 205. See Duke (1986), p. 33. Sociologist Miyamoto (1995) also takes a similar view. This is by no means an observation new to Japan. Japanese educationist Sugita Katsutaro reportedly wrote in a teaching manual published in 1902, ‘‘When I play wind instruments in a music hall and the sound resonates, I forget myself. I have a feeling of purity and transcendence,’’ as mentioned in Adal (2009), p. 157. See Saito (2004), p. 95. See Shimizu (2000a, 2000b) for detailed discussion of this phenomenon in Japan, and Crosnoe and Johnson (2011) for a global perspective on the sociology of adolescence.

References Adal, R. (2009). Nationalizing aesthetics: Art education in Egypt and Japan, 1872–1950. Doctoral dissertation, Harvard University. Ann Arbor, MI: Proquest/UMI. Bresler, L. (Ed.). (2004). Knowing bodies, moving minds: Towards embodied teaching and learning. Dordrecht: Springer. Bresler, L. (2006). Embodied narrative inquiry: A methodology of connection. Research Studies in Music Education, 27, 21–43. Campbell, P. S. (1998). Songs in their heads: Music and its meaning in children’s lives. New York: Oxford University Press. Crosnoe, R., & Johnson, M. K. (2011). Research on adolescence in the twenty-first century. Annual Review of Sociology, 37, 439–460. Duke, B. (1986). The Japanese school. New York: Praeger. Fernandez, J. W. (1986). The argument of images and the experience of returning to the whole. In V. W. Turner & E. M. Bruner (Eds.), The anthropology of experience (pp. 159–187). Urbana, IL: University of Illinois Press. Gordon, E. (1989). Learning sequences in music: Skill, content, and patterns. Chicago: GIA Publications. Hahn, T. (2007). Sensational knowledge: Embodying culture through Japanese dance. Middletown, CT: Wesleyan University Press.

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Hebert, D. G. (2009). On virtuality and music education in online environments. (Hungarian tr., Mariann Abraham) Parlando, 48(4). English version retrieved September 11, 2011, from http://www.parlando.hu/2009-4.html Heikinheimo, T. (2009). Intensity of interaction in instrumental music lessons. Helsinki: Sibelius Academy, Studia Musica, 40. Johnson, M. L. (1997/1998). Embodied musical meaning. Theory and Practice, 22/23, 95–102. Jorgensen, E. (1995). Music education as community. Journal of Aesthetic Education, 29(3), 71–84. Jorgensen, E. R. (2003). Transforming music education. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Jorgensen, E. R. (2011). Pictures of music education. Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press. Kuwayama, T. (1996). Gasshuku: Off-campus training in the Japanese school. Anthropology & Education Quarterly, 27(1), 111–134. Lakoff, G., & Johnson, M. (1980). Metaphors we live by. Chicago: University of Chicago. Lakoff, G., & Johnson, M. (1999). Philosophy in the flesh: The embodied mind and its challenge to western thought. New York: Basic Books. Lewis, C. (1995). Educating hearts and minds: Reflections on Japanese preschool and elementary education. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. McCarthy, M. (1999). Passing it on: The transmission of music in Irish culture. Cork: Cork University Press. Miyamoto, M. (1995). Straightjacket society. Tokyo: Kodansha. Powell, K. (2004). The apprenticeship of embodied knowledge in a taiko drumming ensemble. In L. Bresler (Ed.), Knowing bodies, moving minds (pp. 183–195). Boston: Kluwer. Powell, K. (2006). Inside-out and outside-in: Participant observation in taiko drumming. In G. Spindler & L. Hammond (Eds.), Innovations in educational ethnography: Theory, methods, and results (pp. 33–64). Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum. Saito, N. E. (2004). Inside Japanese classrooms: The heart of education. New York: RoutledgeFalmer. Shimahara, N. K. (2003). Classroom management in Japan: Building a classroom community. In E. R. Beauchamp (Ed.), Comparative education reader (pp. 369–389). New York: RoutledgeFalmer. Shimizu, H. (2000a). Beyond individualism and sociocentrism: An ontological analysis of the opposing elements in the personal experiences of Japanese adolescents. Human Development, 43, 195–211. Shimizu, H. (2000b). Japanese cultural psychology and empathetic understanding: Implications for academic and cultural psychology. Ethos, 28(2), 224–247. Small, C. (1998). Musicking: The meanings of performing and listening. Hanover, NH: Wesleyan University Press. Tudge, J. (1990). Vygotsky, the zone of proximal development, and peer collaboration: Implications for classroom practice. In L. C. Moll (Ed.), Vygotsky and education: Instructional implications and applications of sociohistorical psychology (pp. 155–172). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Walser, R. (1991). The body in the music: Epistemology and musical semiotics. College Music Symposium, 31(1), 117–126. Wenger, E. (1998). Communities of practice: Learning, meaning, and identity. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Chapter 15

Musical Identity in the Band: Social Class and Gender

十人十色 Ju nin to iro ‘‘Ten people, ten colors’’ – diversity is inevitable

In addition to description of practices in Japanese school bands, this study also offered the opportunity to address the role of music more generally within the lives of Japanese adolescents. Hoffman observed that ‘‘If understandings of self differ across cultures (as many anthropologists and cultural psychologists argue), then we should be able to see these differences reflected in educational practices, and understand the latter better in the light of their relation to culturally normative views of self.’’1 Researchers have recently argued that contemporary Western perceptions of the Japanese sense of self (based primarily on positivistic research) are inaccurate, calling for qualitative inquiry into the perceptions and natural interactions of adolescents in Japanese schools.2 Self-understanding is intrinsically linked to the concept of identity, and music has been determined to play a fundamental role in identity construction.3 Identity has been defined as ‘‘a person’s perception of his or her place in the social structure.’’4 Regarding the expression of identity through music, Negus has noted that ‘‘Songs and musical styles do not simply ‘reflect’, ‘speak to’ or ‘express’ the lives of audience members or musicians. A sense of identity is created out of and across the processes whereby people are connected together through and with music.’’5 In other words, interaction with music is a common means by which young people construct their sense of self in relation to peers. This notion of musical identity is an important concept for understanding what participation in a Japanese school band means for its members. Ishikawa Middle School band members viewed themselves as among the school’s finest students in terms of academic achievement, an opinion also endorsed by Kato Sensei and the Kocho Sensei (school principal). School band members, as a group, were literally described as ‘‘iiko’’ (good kids), a stereotype that appears to be commonplace among bands throughout Japan. According to Ishikawa Middle School band members and the band directors of various schools, ‘‘only good kids like music’’ as an extracurricular activity, and D.G. Hebert, Wind Bands and Cultural Identity in Japanese Schools, 227 Landscapes: the Arts, Aesthetics, and Education 9, DOI 10.1007/978-94-007-2178-4_15, Ó Springer ScienceþBusiness Media B.V. 2012

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misbehaving children lack the ‘‘perseverance’’ necessary to keep up with the band rehearsal schedule. By way of contrast, several Ishikawa Middle School students identified the school basketball team as the activity for ‘‘bad’’ girls. Most Ishikawa Middle School band members also indicated that their best friends are in the band, and that they spend recess time with fellow band members. Musical identities are often associated with geographic locations,6 but may also be considered in the context of more specific physical locales, including such club activities. An examination of musical identity within Japanese school bands requires consideration of nationality (to which the entirety of the next chapter is devoted), as well as the themes for this chapter: social class and gender.

15.1 Socioeconomic Status From the descriptions of the Ishikawa Middle School neighborhood and campus (Chapter 3) and the band budget (Chapter 10), it should be clear that most band members do not come from wealthy families. As a result, most of the band instruments are relatively inexpensive models, the majority of the students live with their families in small apartments, private instrumental teachers are not regularly hired to visit the school, and most students report that they do not personally own a substantial collection of music recordings. Most Ishikawa Middle School band members indicated that their fathers work in blue-collar professions and service sector industries (restaurants, transportation, etc.), although some said that they don’t know what kind of work their father does, and most students reported that their mother has a part-time job. By way of contrast, in privileged Japanese families, children are typically quite aware of their father’s respectable profession and the mother does not work outside the home, although this has begun to change. Students’ homes were never visited during the course of this research, but it was clear from the interviews that most Ishikawa Middle School students lived in small apartments with thin walls, as is typical of the architectural design for inexpensive housing in Japan; hence, regular instrument practice at home was not an option. Also, televisions were reportedly left on for much of the evening, which meant that music listening would require headphones, so as not to disturb parents or other siblings in such close living quarters. Most Ishikawa Middle School band members indicated that they had never taken private music lessons. Most students also reported no family musical activities and an insufficient budget for the purchase of musical recordings. Research among Japanese high school students has documented a diversity of music preferences and musical activities outside the school context.7 Considering the gargantuan size of Japan’s youth market for musical recordings and karaoke, it is quite likely that the situation of Ishikawa Middle School band members in this regard differs with that of students at elite middle schools in

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Tokyo. However, the differences in these findings may also be attributed to factors outside socioeconomic status, including students’ age (middle school versus high school), and the intensity of the Ishikawa Middle School band practice schedule, which leaves little time for additional activities. In terms of their long-term goals, few Ishikawa Middle School band members could provide a clear sense of what musical activities they hoped to have in the future (even in high school) and few indicated plans to attend university, although several expressed curiosity regarding university life. While the band members indicated that they were viewed as ‘‘good students’’ within the school, most admitted that they only rarely have to intensely study. However, some thirdyear students indicated that they were studying hard for the entrance exams for a ‘‘good’’ high school. Within interviews, students were asked whether they considered band music to be associated with wealthy or poor people. Generally, band members indicated that they either ‘‘don’t know’’ or that it is for ‘‘both.’’ Still, socioeconomic status was determined to be a significant issue for the band program in terms of how its budget compared with elite private schools. Kato Sensei and some of the Ishikawa Middle School band members admitted that they were envious of the resources associated with other programs. Visits to several renowned private school band programs in the Tokyoarea confirmed the existence of significant inequalities, as directors at such schools seemed to openly flaunt the ‘‘prestigious’’ conservatory affiliation of professional musicians hired (at expensive rates) to tutor their band students on particular instruments. However, the Ishikawa Middle School band was certainly not alone in this regard. Among middle school bands in a 2003 survey from the Saitama area, only 59% reported higher annual student fees than the Ishikawa Middle School and over 27% had a significantly smaller annual budget.8 Despite an awareness of how their situation compared with bands in other schools, band participation was not determined to play a very significant factor in terms of socioeconomic aspects of musical identity among Ishikawa Middle School band members. In other words, the band members did not regard themselves as either better (or worse) off financially than students participating in other school activities, and did not view wind band music as symbolic of any significant socioeconomic themes. This finding was consistent with the notion of band as a school activity, for Japanese schools are known to promote an egalitarian image of meritocracy, downplaying the influence of class differences that nevertheless affect educational opportunities in Japan as much as most other nations.9 Although social class may be an issue of relevance to some bands, it does not appear to be a widespread issue for bands throughout Japan. Rather, wind bands appear to have little or no relationship to socioeconomic status in the minds of Japanese participants. Still, in the school context, band is widely considered to be an activity for ‘‘good’’ students relative to other club activities offered.

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15.2 Gender Issues Gender also tends to play an important role in musical identity. Kato Sensei was asked a number of questions regarding the role of women in Japan’s band scene. As one of the few high-profile woman band directors in the Tokyo area, her perspective seemed important regarding this topic. We discussed the fact that at the final level of the 2002 AJBA competition, none of the qualifying ensembles were led by women conductors. Regarding Japanese women conductors she explained, ‘‘Japanese society at large has become much more welcoming and open to women in most fields. Still, a stereotypical woman cannot reach higher than normal levels.’’ It was confusing, particularly after having read previous research, to see so few woman band directors among bands at the regional and national competition.10 But Kato Sensei explained, ‘‘In middle schools, most of the music teachers are women. And, even if they don’t like it, they naturally have to lead a school band if there has been one. That is the situation.’’ Analysis of band competition programs revealed that an overwhelming majority of the conductors of small bands at the lowest level of competition were women, while all the conductors of bands at the national level of competition were men. A search through Japanese university libraries produced statistics regarding the gender of Japanese middle school teachers associated with particular academic subject areas (Fig. 15.1). Findings from the Benessa Educational Research Institute’s 1997–1998 study (displayed in Fig. 15.1) indicated that there are more than four times more female than male music teachers in Japanese middle schools.11 In fact, out of all academic subjects in school, music is the subject that is least likely to be taught by a male teacher. Women tend to teach languages (Japanese and English), the arts (music and visual art) and home economics. Also of relevance to the theme of gender and music were findings from the same (Benessa) study of sixth grade students in Tokyo, and neighboring Chiba and Saitama prefectures (Fig. 15.2).

Men Subject Math Soc. Studies Science P.E. Japanese English Home/Tech Art Music

Women (%) 16.8 16.7 15.2 14.3 9.9 9.1 8.1 5.2 2.5 = 100

Subject Japanese English Home/Tech Music Math P.E. Art Science Soc. Studies

Fig. 15.1 Japanese middle school teachers: Gender and subject area

(%) 20.4 17.9 10.8 10.5 9 8.3 6.8 5.9 5.8 = 100

15.2

Gender Issues

Fig. 15.2 Favorite school subject of Japanese 6th grade students

231 Boys Subject P.E. Math Science Art Japanese Soc. Studies Music Home/Tech

(%) 60.9 18.7 6.5 5.6 3.7 3.7 0.9 0.0 = 100

Girls Subject P.E. Music Art Home/Tech Japanese Science Math Soc. Studies

(%) 24.1 23.1 14.4 12.5 11.5 6.7 5.8 1.9 = 100

Here it is important to recall that academic music courses are quite different from band, although similarly conceived as ‘‘musical pursuits’’. The difference in the category of music (0.9% for boys and 23.1% for girls) is comparatively enormous. Japanese sixth grade girl respondents were over 25 times more likely than boys to consider music their favorite subject area. The study also found that the majority of boys, girls, and their parents, do not consider music to be a subject area with much relevance for students’ future lives, as only 16.4 % of boys, 20% of girls, and 31% of parents indicated that music is important in relation to other subject areas. It is notable that nearly twice as many parents as schoolboys considered music to be relevant. Among parents and boys, only art was considered less relevant, while girls considered both science and art to be relatively unimportant. When questioned about gender imbalance in the school band, Kato Sensei remarked that ‘‘regarding music there is some prejudice. It is considered feminine.’’ She explained further that ‘‘it is believed in our society that boys should do sports.’’ Previous research has shown that both boys and girls tend to be more attracted to sports than the various cultural pursuits offered as extracurricular activities in Japanese schools (band, art, drama, etc.), but this tendency is most evident among male students.12 Several of these themes were illustrated through the interviews with male students in the Ishikawa Middle School Band. One, a third year clarinetist, explained that ‘‘In the case of Japan, boy students like sports more.’’ Yet, he also indicated that music seems to be a feminine or girlish thing. When asked what it is like to be one of the only boys in a band full of girls, he explained that it was ‘‘Strange.’’ Still, he found that there were no particular problems in terms of prejudice from the female majority. An interview with another male student, a first-year trumpeter in the Ishikawa Middle School band, was also revealing: Q: At the time you were considering entering the band club, you saw the club and it was mostly girls, right? What did you think? A: Well, do they really want boys to do this, or what? Q: Was it a scary feeling? If you were the only boy with so many girls, what kind of a feeling was that? A: Well, it was not really a scary feeling, but certainly a lonely one.

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When asked to explain the gender imbalance commonly observed in Japanese school bands he said, ‘‘Certainly baseball, and tennis, many people are going into sports, so there are fewer people going into the cultural activities. I think that is it.’’ One boy explained that there had been a male Sempai on the same instrumental part as him when he entered the band, which helped him to feel at ease. In discussions with Kato Sensei, 5 to 10% was the figure that seemed to accurately represent the participation rates of boys in competitive Japanese school bands, including the Ishikawa Middle School band with its 5% male membership. Regarding this gender imbalance, Kato Sensei explained that ‘‘we really hope more boys will join. It is really sad if there are only girls. So I hope the boys will start to be more interested in cultural activities instead of just sports.’’ It appears that this extreme gender imbalance is a relatively recent development, from just the last few decades, which also happens to be the period in which Japanese school bands began to attain very high levels of achievement. Kato Sensei explained, ‘‘Actually, when school bands first became popular in Japan, they were thought of as a male activity. At that time they could not even imagine having girls in band.’’ This statement was confirmed through interviews with several Japanese wind band composers, conductors, and band association leaders. In a study of the gender makeup of 170 wind and percussion ensembles from 25 countries, Sheldon and Price determined that ‘‘male participants generally outnumbered female participants,’’ yet there were a few exceptions, one of which was particularly noticeable: ‘‘Japan was considerably different with almost 84% of the instrumentalists being female.’’ Even an analysis of the AJBA’s own promotional materials indicates this kind of gender imbalance among Japanese wind bands.13 ‘‘The All-Japan Band Association’’ is written across the front cover of a pamphlet distributed at the 50th AJBA national competition, which features five photographs of young band members smiling and holding their instruments in various settings. A total of 59 girl band members are shown in the pamphlet’s photos, while only 3 boy students are pictured (which amounts to a 95% female image of school band participants). Across from the inside back cover (p. 13) is a photo of an AJBA executive meeting of men dressed in suits and ties, including the male AJBA president. This image depicts 28 men along with 1 woman (which amounts to a nearly 97% male image of leadership). Japanese school bands have become a domain associated primarily with female students, and it seems likely that women will increasingly take leadership in the future of Japanese bands.14 Clearly, some of the finest school bands in the world consist almost entirely of female students, and in this regard Japanese school bands represent a globally significant model of musical achievement and leadership among adolescent girls. It is important to situate this analysis within the recognition that identity issues are rarely as simple as they appear, since there are typically important differences between how an individual views herself and the image she strives to produce for others, which may also vary widely depending upon the ‘‘others’’ in question. As Hiroshi Aoyagi observed, ‘‘Japanese adolescents are delicately

15.3

Manga, Gaming, and Gender in School Bands

233

situated between how they want to present themselves to the world personally and how they are expected by others to present themselves in the world.’’15 This negotiation of personal and social identity often occurs without conscious awareness. Ann Allison has noted that ‘‘commonsense acceptance of a particular world is the work of ideology, and it works by concealing the coercive and repressive elements of our everyday routines but also by making those routines of the everyday familiar, desirable, and simply our own.’’16

15.3 Manga, Gaming, and Gender in School Bands Analyses of popular media can provide unique insights into gender identity in youth culture. One notable example of how Japanese wind bands are portrayed in popular media is Haruko Kashiwagi’s manga entitled ‘‘Buraburabanban’’, as well as a 2008 film by the same title, based on the original comic book. The two volumes of Buraburabanban tell the story of a young male trumpeter who enters a school band, where he becomes infatuated with a female Sempai who plays horn and is one of the band club’s leaders. The comic book demonstrates many familiar aspects of the school band world, including strenuous rehearsals, a performance at the Fumon Hall (where the AJBA competition is held), and intense preparations for performances at the generically-named ‘‘Higashi chiku suisougaku kenkyu happyokai’’ (East District wind band studies concert). The storyline contains vivid scenes of daily life in a Japanese school band, ranging from mundane details such as buzzing on mouthpieces to verbal exchanges during rehearsals that demonstrate the severity of some Japanese band conductors.17 While much of what occurs in Buraburabanban is typical to any Japanese school band, there are also some obvious sexual undertones. The story gradually attains its focus on the horn-playing Sempai who turns out to have an unusual condition, in that whenever the music starts to sound very good, she becomes so aroused that she has difficulty maintaining her composure. As she conducts, her shirt mysteriously falls off at the very moment she seems to become most enraptured in the blissful music – a response that the male band members clearly enjoy. This scene is included in the movie version, but carefully edited to avoid overt nudity. At another point, the same character becomes so excited by the mere sound of expressively played wind band music that she eventually cannot bear it any longer and aggressively mounts the ‘‘nerdy’’ (otaku) young male trumpeter protagonist and begins undressing.18 Interestingly, the school band featured in Buraburabanban spends much of its time rehearsing a wind band arrangement of Maurice Ravel’s ‘‘Bolero.’’ It is surely no coincidence that Bolero is widely perceived to be an unusually ‘‘sexy’’ piece of classical music, both in Japan and western nations. According to a survey of 10,000 people in the UK, it is the only piece of classical music that placed among the top ten songs that people like to listen to while having sex, closely following songs by Marvin Gaye.19 An advertisement for the Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra’s recording of Bolero is included on the inside cover of the first volume

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of the Burabura Banban manga,20 and its readers are encouraged to listen to a definitive wind band version of the very same piece that became so exciting for the female horn-player that she could no longer control herself. This certainly raises some unexpected questions: Can school bands possibly be sexy? If so, what might this suggest about gender roles and music in Japanese society? As a researcher interested in cultural differences, it is challenging to determine how best to attempt an interpretation of this kind of product, yet in the USA there certainly seems to be a parallel development in the controversial ‘‘American Pie’’ comedy movie series, which features many crude jokes about all the inappropriate activities that allegedly occurred at high school ‘‘band camp.’’21 Still, an even more surprising example of how gender is constructed by popular media in the sphere of Japanese school bands may be found in a videogame entitled ‘‘Buraban!’’, as mentioned at the very beginning of this book. Buraban! was released in 2006 by a company called Yuzu-Soft, and the popularity of this videogame soon led to the release of an updated version in 2008. Upon seeking the company’s website, one quickly learns that it is necessary to be 18 years of age or older to even enter the website, and according to some internet chat rooms, Yuzu-Soft has blocked all access to its website from computers located outside of Japan. Nevertheless, any innocent Internet search (using Japanese terminology) for random images of school band musicians still tends to retrieve various scenes from this videogame, which features mangastyle drawings of playful schoolgirls performing on wind band instruments and engaging in various sexual activities. While this author chose not to explore the Yuzu-Soft product any further, the mere idea of its existence seemed baffling at times, indicating something curious and elusive about gender and the school band experience. Clearly, manga, movies, videogames, and related products that convey Japanese school bands have some impact on how the broader significance of these ensembles come to be understood in popular culture. Both Buraburabanban and Buraban! seem to convey Japanese male fantasies associated with the virtually all-female sphere of school bands. It is conceivable that the media projection of such images can be most meaningfully compared with cheerleading or other emotive activities (in other nations) that are almost exclusively reserved for girls. One other film that bears mention here is ‘‘Swing Girls’’, which compared to the previous examples offers a much richer view of the lives of girls in a Japanese school band, although the band in this case is a jazz ensemble.22 Swing Girls demonstrates how Kohai entering a school band are initiated into a visceral awareness of the kind of breath support necessary to effectively play wind instruments, with memorable scenes of students buzzing on mouthpieces, individually blowing tissues against a wall so they are sustained for several seconds, and even forcefully inhaling air from plastic bottles until the bottles collapse. It is interesting to note that the Yamaha music school is where even this school jazz band’s own teacher secretly took music lessons. The story also emphasized the importance of investing in new, high quality musical instruments. The jazz band began rehearsing with some used instruments that kept falling apart and students

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were repeatedly advised to find some way to buy new instruments. The girls tried various kinds of part-time jobs to raise the money to buy new instruments, but kept failing. It is quite interesting to note that the preexisting wind band at the same school (unlike their own jazz band) was very well supported: provided with nice bento (school lunches), expensive instruments, and even support for touring. The Swing Girls school jazz band was mostly led by a serious and hard-working student named Sekiguchi, but its other members were regarded as ‘‘bad girls,’’ many of whom used crude language. Nevertheless, through the project of developing a school jazz band, they were gradually able to learn teamwork skills and accomplish something deeply meaningful. Unlike the previous examples of media representations, Swing Girls demonstrates that schoolgirls can overcome difficult odds and achieve great things if they are resourceful and determined, and work hard to form a cooperative and supportive team.

15.4 Concluding Thoughts Much of the angst of adolescence surely stems from a healthy questioning of authority and its system of putatively ‘‘normal’’ expectations imposed by previous generations for whom its system is taken for granted and assumed to be common sense, perhaps even beautiful in terms of its rituals and traditions. In constructing a personal identity, the individual agent struggles to make sense of the society in which she is situated, a process within which music often plays an important role. However, as Sherry Ortner has noted, according to contemporary social theory, individuals are ‘‘never free agents, not only in the sense that they do not have the freedom to formulate and realize their own goals in a social vacuum, but also in the sense that they do not have the ability to fully control those relations toward their own ends. As truly and inescapably social beings, they can only work within the many webs of relations that make up their social worlds.’’23 In the end, all that music can offer in this regard is a glimpse of new possibilities, and new ways to articulate one’s hopes and dreams in a social world that provides few fairy tale endings and may often seem all too human. At the end of the day, it becomes up to the individual to make what can be made of such surroundings. Japanese adolescents, like those in any other nation, face a world of uncertainty, but music serves as one of their most important ways of discovering more about themselves and the world around them.

Notes 1. See Hoffman (1998), p. 337. Also see Davidson and Burland (2006) for discussion of identity formation among musicians, Gee (2000/2001) for discussion of how and why to research identity in educational contexts, and Hebert and Campbell (2000) for analysis of youth identity and popular music in education. 2. See Gjerde and Onishi (2000), Shimizu (2000a), and Shimizu (2000b).

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3. See MacDonald, Hargreaves, and Miell (2002). 4. See Whiting (1990), p. 357. Identity has also been defined by sociologists as ‘‘the set of meanings that define who one is when one is an occupant of a particular role in society, a member of a particular group, or claims particular characteristics that identify him or her as a unique person’’(Burke & Stets, 2009, p. 3). In defining the process of ‘‘identification,’’ Stuart Hall explains that it entails ‘‘recognition of some common origin or shared characteristics with another person or group’’ (1996, p. 2), yet he cautions that it is ‘‘a construction, a process never completed – always ‘in process’,’’ and adds that it should be understood as ‘‘not an essentialist, but a strategic and positional’’ construction (p. 3). See Owens, Robinson, and Smith-Lovin (2010) for an insightful comparison of three major sociological orientations to the phenomenon of identity. 5. See Negus (1997), p. 133. Additionally, according to Simon Frith, ‘‘Music constructs our sense of identity though the direct experiences it offers of the body, time and sociability, experiences which enable us to place ourselves in imaginative cultural narratives’’ (Frith, 1996, p. 124). 6. See Stokes (1994) for detailed discussion. Identity has been a major theme in ethnomusicological research for the past few decades, but it has arguably lacked a cohesive theoretical approach (Rice, 2010). 7. This issue is explored among Japanese high school students by Koizumi (2002). 8. This is discussed in an unpublished survey by Y. Miyamoto (2003). 9. See Okano and Tsuchiya (1999) for comprehensive discussion. 10. I am referring here to a doctoral dissertation by Miyamoto (1997) that despite its focus on gender mentions surprisingly little regarding the extreme gender imbalance observed among Japanese school bands. 11. See Fukuyama, Tsuchihashi, Inoue, and Tsuruma (1998). 12. See Sato (1997), p. 32. A more recent survey, with over 15,000 student participants, has produced similar results (Benesse Corporation, 2009). 13. For international-comparative discussion of the gender makeup of wind bands, see Sheldon and Price (2005), p. 46. The other data mentioned here is from a 14-page pamphlet entitled ‘‘The All-Japan Band Association’’ that was distributed within all the concert programs at the 50th AJBA national competition in 2002, the purpose of which is to introduce the AJBA and its activities. 14. Recent scores from a major research study of American high school students also suggest that girls relative to boys are ‘‘more involved in music (0.33 versus 0.21, p < 0.001)’’ (Downey & Vogt Yuan, 2005, p. 310). Such gender issues are of increasing concern to music educators in Europe and the United States. As Gladwell (2007) has explained, ‘‘The world of classical music – particularly in its European home – was until very recently the preserve of white men. Women, it was believed, simply could not play like men. They didn’t have the strength, the attitude, or the resilience for certain kinds of pieces’’ (pp. 248–249). Interestingly, ‘‘Before the advent of blind auditions, the percentage of women in major symphony orchestras in the United States was less than 5%. Today, 25 years later, it’s close to 50%’’ (p. 273). Despite such dramatic changes, the world of classical music continues to be a challenging domain for even the most gifted of women performers in Europe and North America (Tindall, 2005). See Green (2010) for further theoretical discussion of the role of gender in music education. 15. See Aoyagi (2005), p. 65. 16. See Allison (1991), p. 196. 17. See Kashiwagi (1999) p. 52 for images of buzzing on mouthpieces, and p. 155 for discussion of Fumon Hall. Also, see Kashiwagi (2000) p. 37 for discussion of the local band competition, and pp. 122–126 for a tense rehearsal sequence in which the director requires an alto saxophonist to repeat her part many times in front of the entire band and eventually dismisses the student with a statement that may be translated as ‘‘we don’t need you . . . get out of here.’’

References 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23.

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See Kashiwagi (1999), pp. 60–74. See The Age (2002). See Kashiwagi (1999). American Pie (1999). See Swing Girls: Girls Meet Jazz!!! (2004). See Ortner (2006), p. 152.

References Allison, A. (1991). Japanese mothers and obentos: The lunch-box as ideological state apparatus. Anthropological Quarterly, 65(4), 195–208. American Pie. (1999). United States: Universal Pictures (Paul and Chris Weitz, Directors). Aoyagi, H. (2005). Islands of eight million smiles: Idol performance and symbolic representation in contemporary Japan. Cambridge: Harvard University East Asia Center. Benesse Corporation. (2009). Gakko gaikyoiku katsudoni kansuru jittai [On the actual state of extracurricular activities]. Tokyo: Bennesse Kyoiku Kenkyu Kaihatsu Center. Retrieved September 11, 2011, from http://www.benesse.jp/berd/center/open/report/kyoikuhi/data book/databook_01.html Burke, P. J., & Stets, J. E. (2009). Identity theory. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Davidson, J. W., & Burland, K. (2006). Musician identity formation. In G. E. McPherson (Ed.), The child as musician: A handbook of musical development (pp. 475–490). New York: Oxford University Press. Downey, D. B., & Vogt Yuan, A. S. (2005). Sex differences in school performance during high school: Puzzling patterns and possible explanations. Sociological Quarterly, 46(2), 299–321. Frith, S. (1996). Music and identity. In S. Hall & P. Guy (Eds.), Questions of cultural identity (pp. 108–127). London: Sage. Fukuyama, M., Tsuchihashi, M., Inoue, K., & Tsuruma, K. (1998). Monograph shogakusei nau [Middle school students today], 18(1). Tokyo: Benessa Corporation. Gee, J. P. (2000/2001). Identity as an analytic lens for research in education. Review of Research in Education, 25, 99–125. Gjerde, P. F., & Onishi, M. (2000). Selves, cultures, and nations: The psychological imagination of ‘‘the Japanese’’ in the era of globalization. Human Development, 43, 216–226. Gladwell, M. (2007). Blink: The power of thinking without thinking. Boston: Back Bay Books. Green, L. (2010). Gender identity, musical experience and schooling. In R. Wright (Ed.), Sociology and music education (pp. 139–153). Aldershot: Ashgate. Hall, S. (1996). Introduction: Who needs ‘Identity’? In S. Hall & P. Guy (Eds.), Questions of cultural identity (pp. 1–17). London: Sage. Hebert, D. G., & Campbell, P. S. (2000). Rock music in American schools: Positions and practices since the 1960s. International Journal of Music Education, 36(1), 14–22. Hoffman, D. M. (1998). A therapeutic moment? Identity, self and culture in the anthropology of education. Anthropology and Education Quarterly, 29(3), 324–346. Kashiwagi, H. (1999). Buraburabanban (Vol. 1). Tokyo: Shogakkan (Young Sunday Comics). Kashiwagi, H. (2000). Buraburabanban (Vol. 2). Tokyo: Shogakkan (Young Sunday Comics). Koizumi, K. (2002). Popular music, gender and high school pupils in Japan: Personal music in school and leisure sites. Popular Music, 27(1), 107–125. MacDonald, R. A. R., Hargreaves, D., & Miell, D. E. (Eds.). (2002). Musical identities. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Miyamoto, K. (1997). Japanese high school students’ motivation in band as it relates to the gender of the band director and the student. Doctoral dissertation, University of Arizona (AAT 9738933).

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Miyamoto, Y. (2003). Sukuurubando genjouto sonokaiketsusakuwo motomete: Kyouzai toshiteno suisougakkyokuno kenkyuto sonokeitoudzuke [The status quo of school bands and search for a plan of resolution: Research on band instructional pieces and their organization]. Unpublished manuscript. Negus, K. (1997). Popular music in theory. Hanover, NH: University Press of New England. Okano, K., & Tsuchiya, M. (1999). Education in contemporary Japan: Inequality and diversity. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Ortner, S. B. (2006). Anthropology and social theory: Culture, power, and the acting subject. Durham: Duke University Press. Owens, T. J., Robinson D. T., & Smith-Lovin, L. (2010). Three faces of identity. Annual Review of Sociology, 36, 477–499. Rice, T. (2010). Disciplining ethnomusicology: A call for a new approach. Ethnomusicology, 54(2), 318–325. Sato, H. (1997). Bukatsudono jittai [The reality of extracurricular club activities]. Gakko Keiei [School Administration], 42(6), 30–39. Sheldon, D. A., & Price, H. E. (2005). Sex and instrumentation distribution in an international cross-section of wind and percussion ensembles. Bulletin of the Council for Research in Music Education, 163, 43–51. Shimizu, H. (2000a). Beyond individualism and sociocentrism: An ontological analysis of the opposing elements in the personal experiences of Japanese adolescents. Human Development, 43, 195–211. Shimizu, H. (2000b). Japanese cultural psychology and empathetic understanding: Implications for academic and cultural psychology. Ethos, 28(2), 224–247. Stokes, M. (Ed.). (1994). Ethnicity, identity and music: The musical construction of place. Oxford: Berg Publishers. Swing girls: Girls meet jazz!!! (2004). Altamira Pictures (Shinobu Yaguchi, Director). Tokyo: Fuji Television. The Age (2002, December 10). Favourite sex soundtracks. Melbourne: The Age. Retrieved September 11, 2011, from http://www.theage.com.au/articles/2002/12/10/1039379819685. html Tindall, B. (2005). Mozart in the jungle: Sex, drugs, and classical music. London: Atlantic Monthly Press. Whiting, J. W. M. (1990). Adolescent rituals and identity conflicts. In J. W. Stigler, R. A. Shweder, & G. Herdt (Eds.), Cultural psychology: Essays on comparative human development (pp. 357–365). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Chapter 16

National Identity in the Japanese School Band

出る杭は打たれる Deru kuiwa utareru ‘‘The nail that stands out gets pounded’’ – nonconformity is hazardous

16.1 The Kimigayo Incident It seemed there had never before been such tension in the band room. In fact, this was the only case of a disciplinary problem observed in the band during the entire period of fieldwork at Ishikawa Middle School. It took several repeated viewings of the video content to fully grasp the true meaning of what had occurred. The band had just finished rehearsing St. Anthony Variations (by William Hill), a complex piece requiring a high level of technical ability that would make it suitable repertoire for many American university wind bands. Kato Sensei then had the students take out their sheet music parts for Kimigayo, the Japanese national anthem. Kimigayo is a very slow and simple song that consists of half notes and quarter notes in a narrow range, technically the very simplest piece in the band’s entire repertoire. Kato Sensei conducted the band through Kimigayo, from beginning to end. Surprisingly, most of the clarinet section members never lifted their instruments to playing position for this song, and instead sat silently through the entire piece. I recall thinking that the expressions of the clarinet players seemed unusual at this point, with very solemn faces and eyes pointing toward the ground, occasionally stealing glances at one another. Kato Sensei clearly noticed the unusual behavior of the clarinet section, but quickly responded to it by conducting with far greater enthusiasm than ever before, standing up from her seated position and extending her arms in wider gestures, and finally ending the piece with a clear cut-off. Then, without any pause, she immediately began scolding the clarinetists in the front row. Kato Sensei glared at specific students, one by one, tapping the music stand with her baton for emphasis, one tap for each student as she spoke forcefully to each of them, ‘‘You’re not playing, you’re not playing, you’re not playing. You’re not D.G. Hebert, Wind Bands and Cultural Identity in Japanese Schools, 239 Landscapes: the Arts, Aesthetics, and Education 9, DOI 10.1007/978-94-007-2178-4_16, Ó Springer ScienceþBusiness Media B.V. 2012

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playing this song at all. Why?’’ After a short pause, the clarinet section leader fumbled to give an answer. ‘‘Well, we . . .’’ Kato Sensei interrupted her very slow attempt to provide some kind of explanation. ‘‘Did I say not to play this song?’’ she insisted. There was no reply. The band room became utterly silent. After a pause, Kato Sensei continued, ‘‘I see . . . it is because the rule about first year students, that you cannot play unless you know your part well. Is that it?’’ Instead of the usual chorus of voices immediately responding to her authority with an affirming ‘‘Hai!’’, Kato Sensei faced only the complete silence of the band room. All students appeared to be intensely focusing on the interaction between Kato Sensei and the clarinet section. I panned my video camera to capture the serious expressions on the faces of band members. Kato Sensei continued, her voice becoming louder, ‘‘Well, we must at least play this song for the entrance ceremony in April. It will be a problem if we can’t. We absolutely must do it. Surely you realize this is completely hopeless! You are not showing enthusiasm.’’ She paused, and after a few more moments of intense silence she continued with a gentler voice: ‘‘The Sempai must teach the first-year students. If you cannot perfectly match (awanai), it is still okay, but we must play this. Am I mistaken about this?’’ ‘‘No, you are not mistaken,’’ the clarinet section leader responded. ‘‘Right. I didn’t think I was. Now, let’s take out Swan Lake,’’ Kato Sensei concluded. This brief event proved to be among the very most interesting observations of the Ishikawa Middle School band during this research, since many important issues were encapsulated into the space of a few minutes. Fortunately, everything was recorded on videotape, and I was able to watch it repeatedly and review the video with Japanese scholars to ensure that my interpretations were accurate.

16.2 National Identity and Music Before moving to interpretation of the ‘‘Kimigayo Incident’’ described above, it is useful to first address some broader issues. One critically important aspect of musical identity that must be considered in this analysis is nationality. Social psychologist David Hargreaves and colleagues have observed that ‘‘our sense of belonging to a nation can be communicated through music,’’ as ‘‘national anthems and the educational environment in which children learn about music are both very influential in developing and sustaining our national identities.’’1 Folkestad has even asserted that ‘‘every idea emphasizing national identity in music education becomes not only an educational but also a political statement.’’2 For such reasons, national identity, and the song Kimigayo in particular – the first important wind band composition in Japan – must be discussed in this book; however, it should also be noted that the history of Kimigayo is extremely controversial, and it is even regarded as a taboo topic that many Japanese scholars hesitate to write about for fear of becoming

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targeted by right-wing extremists. This chapter will address the role of national identity in Japanese wind bands from several angles. Foreigners in the band. The fact that two Ishikawa Middle School band members were non-Japanese seemed an important issue to consider in terms of national identity. Non-Japanese children and kikoku shijo (‘‘returnees’’, or Japanese who have lived abroad) have been reported as common targets of bullying in Japan. In his analysis of the experiences of foreigners in Japanese middle schools McConnell concluded, ‘‘we cannot ignore the fact that cultural nationalism and xenophobia still exist as factors in modern Japanese ideology.’’3 However, within the Ishikawa Middle School band, the non-Japanese members gave no indication of any difficulties associated with their nationality. To the contrary, both students reported strong friendships within the ensemble. At no point during the year did any observations suggest that the non-Japanese students were treated unfairly or ostracized by their peers. In fact, they seemed to be among the more popular members of the ensemble. When asked about the experience of foreign students within the ensemble, Kato Sensei explained that it was the same as the Japanese students. Kato Sensei observed that ‘‘for one student – her father is a foreigner [Iranian] and her mother is Japanese – it is pure and natural for first year students to ask about her background. But by the time they become second year students there are no more questions about that, and she has become one of them. The reason that she is no longer [viewed as] different is that she is half Japanese and speaks Japanese well, and is able to put in the same level of effort [gambaru] as a normal Japanese.’’ Nationality in Japanese education. A sense of Japanese identity was constructed in various ways through the Ishikawa Middle School band, some of which were resisted by its members. As comparative educationists have observed: large portions of the Japanese teaching force have vigorously opposed attempts to reinstate moral education linked with pre-war nationalism; have rejected the reintroduction of the national flag and the national anthem, again on grounds that they were symbols associated with pre-war nationalism; and have agitated for more liberal and international education.4

Within the Japanese system of school education, a sense of national identity is officially conveyed through the social studies curriculum, in addition to moral education and other practices associated with extracurricular club activities. Currently, only history textbooks with strategic wordings that accommodate for patriotic interpretations are permitted by the government for use in Japanese schools, a situation that has been widely debated both within Japan and its neighboring nations.5 In 1997, after 32 years of court proceedings, historian Saburo Ienaga (a Nobel peace prize nominee) became the first person to obtain partial admission from the Japanese government that some of its censorship of history textbooks has been inappropriate, albeit regarding a single point among the many disputed. At issue was the concern that inclusion of certain facts ‘‘would lead children to conclude that Japan was once a colonial power.’’6 The truism that

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Japan has been a colonial power in Asia is debated nowhere but within Japan itself. Some understanding of this unusual context is necessary in order to fully grasp the deep significance of recent legislation requiring the national anthem ‘‘Kimigayo’’ to be performed in Japanese schools, typically to the accompaniment of a school band.

16.3 Interpretation of the Kimigayo Incident In order to fully understand the deeper meaning of the ‘‘Kimigayo Incident’’ described at the start of this chapter, one must be aware of three components within this intense interaction that spanned only a few minutes: musical, cultural, and political dimensions. The music of Kimigayo is technically far too simple to allow for any valid excuses in terms of musical technique. Any band capable of playing the previous piece with the level of competence in which it was played would surely have no trouble performing Kimigayo. Nevertheless, in an exemplary demonstration of Japanese-style classroom management skills, Kato Sensei cleverly volunteered that a musical problem had been encountered, enabling her to avoid the possibility of any conflict that could result from publicly admitting the political dimension of what had actually occurred: refusal to perform a controversial piece. In this case, as in many of the most intense moments in Japanese discourse, the truly significant aspect of this interaction is actually located in what was intentionally left unsaid due to the practice of enryo (restraint) and tatemae (artificial image projected in public domains). Why would a group of Japanese middle school clarinet players refuse to perform their own national anthem in a school band? And why would their band director imply that the reason for their refusal could be that the music for Kimigayo was too difficult? An examination of the meaning of Kimigayo will shed light on this situation. The lyrics of Kimigayo (‘‘The Reign of Our Lord’’) consist of five short phrases in an archaic Japanese poetic style (tanka), and the entire form is typically repeated at least once in performance. The lyrics are transliterated as follows: Kimi ga yo wa Chiyo ni yachiyo ni Sazare ishi no Iwao to nari te Koke no musu made.

In English, these lines may be roughly translated as follows: May the Emperor’s reign continue For a thousand, nay eight thousand generations For the eternity it takes for a tiny pebble To grow into a boulder All covered with moss

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Kimigayo has been consistently included in Japan’s school music textbooks since the first textbook was published in 1881, based on the collaboration of Shuji Isawa and Luther Whiting Mason (see Chapter 2). Its words are in many respects similar to ‘‘God Save the Queen’’, and other Western anthems, yet there are even stronger implications to be considered. In traditional Japanese belief, the Emperor (unlike many Queens) was considered an omnipotent, immortal being, or living god. And, appropriate to an immortal being destined to rule an entire race, the lyrics of this song are understood to embrace the idea that the Emperor’s life and absolute command over Japan should (or will) last for eternity. Even today, the Emperor serves as the ultimate symbol of Japan’s jougekankei system of social hierarchy. And, the music of Kimigayo is permanently etched into the memory of older Japanese as the musical accompaniment for the wartime aggression they have tried so hard to forget.7 Music scholars have documented Japan’s use of Kimigayo as a required song in its colonial schools, including areas that are now South Korea and Taiwan.8 Due to its meaning and historical usage, participation in the singing of this song is considered antithetical to the beliefs of many contemporary residents of Japan, including non-Japanese children, Christians, Moslems, Hindus, Jews, and even ethnic Japanese with extremely democratic or internationalist ideals. In Kimigayo, Japan is faced with a highly complex and unusual situation. The majority of nations to experience truly revolutionary regime change in the twentieth century opted for the designation of a new national anthem along with other icons to replace the defunct symbols associated with previous eras. The national anthem of Russia, which was amended several times over the past century, is a particularly illustrative example.9 Resistance against Kimigayo was strong for two generations, yet it has been gradually dying away at the very time the government is pressing to reintroduce it as a requirement in schools. Anthropologist Takie Sugiyama Lebra observed that ‘‘Most Japanese are apathetic, if not hostile, toward the two major symbols of the nation-state – the national flag (hinomaru) and the national anthem (‘Kimigayo’), which celebrates the ever-lasting imperial reign. Despite the antipathy of those who associate these symbols with Japan’s wartime aggression and oppression, they were nevertheless legally sanctioned in 1999, against strong protest.’’10 But how ‘‘strong’’ could such protests become in a nation like Japan? According to the Shoso Shinbun newspaper, 58-year-old Ishikawa Toshihiro, principal of Hiroshima Kenritsu Sera High School, finally resorted to committing suicide on February 28, 1999 in protest of the new government requirement that all Japanese school students and faculty sing the national anthem and recite the pledge of allegiance.11 The new law required Principal Ishikawa to lead these controversial activities, which were vigorously opposed by the teacher’s union. Had he failed to do so, Ishikawa would have been fired from his job.12 On the day before one of the newer Kimigayo enforcement laws was enacted, the Mainichi Shinbun newspaper dedicated a high-profile article to discussion of

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the raging debate. The newspaper confirmed that the national anthem was still viewed by many as a ‘‘sinryaku sensouno shinborudata’’ (symbol of militaristic invasions), and included discussion of the possible option of performing only the melody without its accompanying lyrics.13 Despite such concerns, neoconservatives within the Japanese government continued to push their nationalistic agenda, even since the time this case study fieldwork on the Ishikawa band concluded. According to the October 24, 2003 edition of Japan Times, ‘‘The Tokyo Metropolitan Government board of education said Thursday it will punish public school teachers who refuse to raise the Hinomaru flag and sing ‘Kimigayo’ at school ceremonies. . . . Teachers who do not comply ‘will be punished’ under the new rules, whereas the old rules had stipulated that they ‘may be punished’.’’14 The ‘‘old rules’’ were enacted as recent as 1999 to the dismay of many educators, and this more recent move was predicted by many as the next step in the Japanese government’s agenda, a gradual return to nationalistic policy. On April 6, 2004, the Yomiuri Shinbun newspaper announced that the Tokyo Board of Education had just issued disciplinary citations to 20 teachers associated with public elementary schools, middle schools, and special education schools.15 The citations (which lead to fines and/or dismissal from their positions) are for failing to stand and sing Kimigayo along with other teachers and students at their school graduation ceremonies. According to the report, along with the numbers from public high schools, a total of 195 teachers had been cited for this offense by April 6, 2004.16 By May of 2004, police in Itabashi (the Ishikawa Middle School neighborhood) had raided the home of a retired high school teacher after he distributed flyers questioning the new Kimigayo legislation.17 Also in May of 2004, the education board of Fukuoka Prefecture sent out inspectors to monitor the loudness of the singing of Kimigayo in schools, as soft singing could be perceived as an indication of insufficient enthusiasm, which would require immediate disciplinary action.18 This situation continued to escalate with similar reports across the following years. On March 6, 2007, the Japan Times reported that ‘‘The Tokyo metropolitan board of education punished a high school teacher Monday who refused to play the piano accompaniment to the ‘Kimigayo’ national anthem during a school ceremony in November.’’ This punishment was for an offence in 2006, but it had taken several months for the case to make its way through the legal system. According to the article, this punishment included a ‘‘10% pay cut’’ and ‘‘Toru Kondo, a representative of 230 teachers who have been punished under the directive, predicted that the board of education will undoubtedly issue more penalties later this month against teachers who refuse to comply.’’19 Clearly, these examples demonstrate that unlike common stereotypes, many Japanese are capable of saying ‘‘no’’ to authority when unlawful demands are made, and these kinds of controversies suggest that despite any claims of freedom and democracy, human rights can be violated as much in Japanese schools as in schools of many other nations.

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Kimigayo Outside of School

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16.4 Kimigayo Outside of School An entirely different sense of the meaning of Kimigayo in contemporary Japan was encountered in a rock concert I attended in July 2003 at the Zoujouji Temple in the heart of downtown Tokyo. Thousands of young Japanese flocked to this free outdoor concert featuring Imawano Kiyoshiro, former lead vocalist of R.C. Succession, which was among Japan’s most influential rock bands of the 1970s and 80 s.20 At the concert, Imawano Kiyoshiro performed numerous American rock ‘‘covers’’ from the 1960s and 70 s, using his own Japanese translations of the English words as lyrics. But the song that most excited the audience was his rendition of Kimigayo, a version that had been banned as subversive by the Japanese government when the record was originally released. The controversy was based on his use of a clever pun to assert that Japan belongs to the Japanese people, rather than the Emperor. In its original usage, the ‘‘kimi’’ of kimigayo is an ancient term referring to the omnipotence of the Emperor, much like how ‘‘diadem’’ and ‘‘your highness’’ were used in ancient English to indicate royalty. However, in modern spoken Japanese ‘‘kimi’’ is most commonly used as a casual/familiar term to indicate ‘‘you.’’21 Playing upon these nuances, Imawano Kiyoshiro parodied the meaning of Kimigayo to imply paternalism. He changed the final lines of the song into ‘‘Oredayo!’’ This phrase, which cleverly matches ‘‘Kimigayo’’ in both rhythm and rhyme, is translated directly into English as ‘‘It’s me!’’, yet in Japanese the phrase carries a very colloquial and vernacular nuance, as though speaking to close friends or family. Considering the level of formality associated with the original text, composed in honor of Japan’s immortal and omnipotent Emperor, the connotations of this irreverent pun are profound, even exceeding the irony conveyed by the Sex Pistols’ infamous punk record, ‘‘God Save the Queen’’. Imawano Kiyoshiro performed ‘‘Oredayo’’ at a raging tempo with distorted guitar and intense drums. Audience members swarmed around the stage and jumped up and down wildly as the song progressed. Toward the end he called out, ‘‘Japan is not the Emperor’s. It’s me. It’s you. It’s you and you and you. Ours! We are Japan.’’ Here, he enthusiastically pointed out at audience members who cheered in response. This satirical version of Kimigayo, despite its controversial nature, seems to resonate most truly with the spirit of contemporary Japan’s youth. It is telling that ‘‘Oredayo’’ was enthusiastically received by young rock fans, while in this study, I was unable to find a single Ishikawa Middle School student who enjoyed performing Kimigayo at school. As part of the interview process, the band members were asked what they thought about Kimigayo. It was universally disliked, although few seemed able to explain its meaning in detail. The feeling of playing Kimigayo was described as ‘‘moody, kind of dark and gloomy.’’ None of the Ishikawa Middle School band members were able to

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describe the meaning of Kimigayo’s lyrics within our interviews. The feelings of most band members echoed the sentiments of one of the section leaders: Q: What kind of feeling do you have when playing Kimigayo? A: I don’t really like it, but we perform Kimigayo as a courtesy.22 Due to the Tokyo Board of Education’s enforcement of Kimigayo, some school principals even became nervous regarding the possibility that their school band might not cooperate with its required performance at the two most important events of the academic year: opening ceremony and graduation ceremony. According to one Tokyo middle school principal with whom this concern was discussed in 2006, a MIDI (electronic) version of Kimigayo was distributed among several Tokyo band directors to keep on hand as an emergency backup plan in case half or more of their band suddenly decided not to participate. The MIDI version would supplement the sound of a smaller group of musicians, enabling them to still project the image of a larger ensemble. In this way, the public image (tatemae) of order and obedience may be maintained, and nobody will lose their job as a result.

16.5 Interpretation of National Identity Ample data indicate that aspects of the AJBA competition have promoted a nationalistic identity for wind band music at various points in history, which is unsurprising considering that most any wind band in the world may to some extent trace its lineage to military bands.23 The competition caters exclusively to Japanese bands, and participation in the competition serves as a key event in the annual schedule of most Japanese school and community bands. Moreover, all of the adjudicators at the competition are Japanese, and Japanese composers are commissioned to write the required pieces each year in an idiom that has become recognizable as a national style. Western influences receive little mention in the 35-page history of Japanese bands inserted into the program of 50th AJBA competition. Furthermore, when interviewed for this study, the AJBA Director explicitly asserted that ‘‘band has become a Japanese thing’’ (Chapter 8). Despite the points mentioned above, an internationalist agenda may also be read into many aspects of Japan’s wind band scene. For example, it is quite notable that the repertoire represented by the ‘‘free pieces’’ performed in the AJBA competition is quite cosmopolitan in nature. Furthermore, the AsiaPacific Band Directors Association and publications such as Band Journal clearly attempt to bring a more global awareness to the Japanese band community, and the wind band idiom itself (relative to some other musical activities) enables Japanese students to participate in a form of music that is common throughout much of the world. In other words, although the system is strongly nationalistic in some respects, there are also many indications of a genuine interest in international exchange, and despite historical motivations, the

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current impetus for wind bands in Japanese schools does not appear to be any more nationalistic than the arguments originally used to promote the educational use of shoka school songs or, more recently, the instruments of traditional Japanese music (hogaku).24 In fact, it is quite interesting to note in closing that the recent reforms requiring performance of traditional Japanese instruments in public schools – which Henry Johnson has described as a ‘‘state imposed rediscovery of an imagined roots’’ – are closely tied to a broader educational policy agenda of instilling a stronger sense patriotism and national identity across the curriculum.25 According to Roy Starrs, at the start of the twenty-first century, music became ‘‘one of the cultural objects privileged by those nationalists who wish to replace ‘modern Western’ instruments with ‘traditional Japanese’ ones as a compulsory part of the school curriculum.’’26 Contrary to the ideologies that have typically undergirded promotion of non-western music in Western nations, such as multiculturalism, the recent interest in Japanese traditional instruments is aligned with opposing perspectives. As Henry Johnson’s has described it, ‘‘The place of hogaku in music education points to cultural nationalism. It is a celebration of what was historically a small part of Japanese culture that was restricted in pre-Meiji times to a small portion of the society,’’ and ‘‘Such a process not only reinvents tradition, but it also reinvents culture.’’27 It seems therefore quite important to assess the broader context of nationalism and music as a global phenomenon before reaching definitive conclusions regarding the extent of nationalism evident in the music education system of a particular nation, or a specific genre, such as the wind band idiom, which is one reason why more international-comparative study is certainly needed. Here it is also quite illuminating to consider Yoshino’s insightful observation that ‘‘Ironically, nationalism – in the sense of raising national consciousness, cultivating national identity, and stressing Japan’s culture and tradition – is promoted in the name of the internationalization of Japan.’’28 Although aspects of wind band performance arguably promote nationalism in Japan, this instrumental genre may actually be rather less nationalistic in general than many other forms of music that can (and are) being brought into schools in Japan and other nations around the world.

Notes 1. See Hargreaves, MacDonald, and Miell (2002), p. 17. 2. See Folkestad (2002), p. 158. Mans (2009, p. 98) also notes that ‘‘cultural identities can be seen as politicized constructs’’ with implications for both action and meaning-making in ‘‘musical worlds.’’ 3. See McConnell (1999), p. 62. 4. See Zeng and LeTendre (1999), p. 111. 5. For a general introduction to this issue, see French (2001). See Barnard (2003) and Muller (2011) for rigorous analysis of Japanese history textbooks and discussion of the controversies surrounding them. Remarkably similar problems have recently arisen in the United States (Birnbaum, 2010; McKinley, 2010).

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6. See Bergman (1997). 7. As Raja Adal has noted regarding Kimigayo, ‘‘by the end of the World War Two it was considered by many a symbol of the militaristic nationalism and emperor worship that led Japan into war’’ (Adal, 2009, p. 109). 8. See Southcott and Lee (2003). 9. See Daughtry (2003). 10. See Lebra (2004), p. 263. 11. See Shoso Shinbun (1999, February 28). 12. These developments have been discussed by other scholars (Aspinall & Cave, 2001; Matsunobu, 2009a, 2009b; Yamada, 2004). Yamada (2004) mentioned the Kimigayo suicide incident and concluded with a safely worded, diplomatically vague suggestion that objectivity should be possible in the teaching of Japan’s national anthem. 13. See Mainichi Shinbun (1999, June 28). 14. See Japan Times (2003, October 24). 15. See Yomiuri Shinbun (2004, April 6). 16. See Yomiuri Shinbun (2004, April 6). 17. See Japan Times (2004, May 22). 18. See Japan Times (2004, May 31). 19. See Hongo (2007). 20. See Stephens (2008), p. 23. 21. The nuance of kimi in Japanese is somewhat like tu in French, in contrast to vous which conversely resembles anata in Japanese. 22. To this author it seemed unfortunate that Japanese students were required to perform a piece of music that was so uninspiring for them, yet this resembles familiar practices that many American music students have endured for generations in school ‘‘pep assemblies’’. Like personal pride and esteem, it may be that a modicum of nationalism – or group pride – is healthy and useful in some circumstances. However, there appears to be little convincing philosophical support for the use of patriotism as an objective for music education. Nevertheless, this issue seems to have represented a perennial obstacle for music teachers in an array of nations (Hebert, 2006). 23. Anthropologists have documented the role that the ‘‘military band playing (Western) martial music’’ plays even in recent years within live-fire exercises among Japan’s self defense forces (Ben-Ari & Fruhstuck, 2003, p. 544). 24. This point should be considered in proper context, as for decades research studies have suggested that Japanese schools are gradually drifting toward an increasingly militaristic paradigm. In observations from as early as 1961, Singleton found that the Japan Teachers Union claimed ‘‘the Government and Ministry are seeking to revive militaristic national patterns of behavior from the prewar period. Each move of the government and the Ministry of Education is seen as a return to the past’’ (Singleton, 1967, p. 2). Over the past four decades, other educational researchers have similarly documented a growing perception among teachers that nationalistic policies are being reintroduced into Japanese schools (Yoneyama, 1999, p. 82). Gregory Shepherd (1991) has also documented the application of a nationalistic agenda within Japanese music scholarship, and Gerald Groemer (2004) has confirmed many of the concerns raised by Shepherd. It is certainly possible that the role of national identity has been overemphasized in some previous studies of musical practices in Japan. The present study examined the role of national identity in both band repertoire and actual school band rehearsals, acknowledging that band participation may entail nationalistic sentiments, yet may also serve to promote international awareness. 25. See Johnson (2004), p. 155. 26. See Starrs (2004), p. 12.

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27. See Johnson (2004), p. 153. It is also telling that on observing this recent shift in policy, Nakao wrote ‘‘traditional Japanese music has been conspicuous by its absence in music education. The skilled craftsmen who make traditional Japanese instruments were on the verge of extinction’’ (Nakao, 2004, p. 108). 28. See Yoshino (1999), p. 25. Yano’s chapter from the same volume is also quite insightful regarding how national identity is constructed through Japanese popular song (Yano, 1999).

References Adal, R. (2009). Nationalizing aesthetics: Art education in Egypt and Japan, 1872–1950. Doctoral dissertation, Harvard University. Ann Arbor, MI: Proquest/UMI. Aspinall, R., & Cave, P. (2001). Lowering the flag: Authority, democracy and rights at Tokorozawa High School. Social Science Japan Journal, 4(1), 77–93. Barnard, C. (2003). Language, ideology, and Japanese history textbooks. London: Routledge. Ben-Ari, E., & Fruhstuck, S. (2003). The celebration of violence: A live-fire demonstration carried out by Japan’s contemporary military. American Ethnologist, 30(4), 540–555. Bergman, C. (1997, August 30). Texts illegally censored, Japan court rules. The Globe and Mail. Birnbaum, M. (2010, March 18). Historians speak out against proposed Texas textbook changes. The Washington Post. Daughtry, J. M. (2003). Russia’s new anthem and the negotiation of national identity. Ethnomusicology, 47(1), 42–67. Folkestad, G. (2002). National identity and music. In R. A. R. MacDonald, D. J. Hargreaves, & D. E. Miell (Eds.), Musical identities (pp. 151–162). Oxford: Oxford University Press. French, H. W. (2001, March 25). Japan’s resurgent far right tinkers with history. The New York Times. Groemer, G. (2004). The rise of ‘Japanese music’. The World of Music, 46(2), 9–33. Hargreaves, D. J., MacDonald, R. A. R., & Miell, D. E. (2002). What are musical identities, and why are they important? In R. A. R. MacDonald, D. J. Hargreaves, & D. E. Miell (Eds.), Musical identities (pp. 1–20). Oxford: Oxford University Press. Hebert, D. G. (2006). Rethinking patriotism: National anthems in music education. AsiaPacific Journal for Arts Education, 4(1), 21–39. Hongo, J. (2007, March 6). ‘Kimigayo’ snub stings another teacher. The Japan Times. Japan Times. (Ed.). (2004, May 31). Education board checked ‘loudness’ of ‘Kimigayo’. The Japan Times. Japan Times. (Ed.). (2004, May 22). Police raid retired teacher who raised flag, anthem ruckus. The Japan Times. Japan Times. (Ed.). (2003, October 24). Flag, anthem controversy rumbles on. The Japan Times. Johnson, H. (2004). The koto, traditional music, and an idealized Japan: Cultural nationalism in music performance and education. In R. Starrs (Ed.), Japanese cultural nationalism at home and in the Asia-Pacific (pp. 132–164). Kent: Global Oriental. Lebra, T. S. (2004). The Japanese self in cultural logic. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press. Mainichi Shinbun. (1999, June 28). Kimigayo. Mans, M. (2009). Living in worlds of music: A view of education and values. Dordrecht: Springer. Matsunobu, K. (2009a). Artful encounters with nature: Ecological and spiritual dimensions of music learning. Doctoral dissertation, University of Illinois. Ann Arbor, MI: Proquest/ UMI.

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Matsunobu, K. (2009b). Modern and traditional Asia. In M. Mans (Ed.), Living in worlds of music: A view of education and values (pp. 140–147). Dordrecht: Springer. McConnell, D. (1999). Coping with diversity: The Achilles’ heel of Japanese education? In G. K. LeTendre (Ed.), Competitor or ally? Japan’s role in American educational debates (pp. 47–64). New York: Falmer Press. McKinley, J. C. (2010, March 12). Texas conservatives win curriculum change. The New York Times. Muller, G. (Ed.). (2011). Designing history in East Asian textbooks: Identity politics and transnational aspirations. London: Routledge. Nakao, H. (2004). The legacy of Shiba Ryotaro. In R. Starrs (Ed.), Japanese cultural nationalism at home and in the Asia-Pacific (pp. 99–115). Kent: Global Oriental. Shepherd, G. (1991). ‘Nihonjinron’: Challenge to academia. International Review of the Aesthetics and Sociology of Music, 22(2), 187–192. Shoso Shinbun. (1999, March). Hiroshimakenritsukouno kochojisatsu kumiaito kimigayoseishode Tairitsu [Suicide of Hiroshima prefecture school principal, union opposition, and Kimigayo politics]. Singleton, J. (1967). Nichu: A Japanese school. New York: Holt, Rinehart, and Winston. Southcott, J., & Lee, A. H. (2003). Imperialism in school music: Common experiences in two different cultures. International Journal of Music Education, 40, 28–40. Starrs, R. (2004). Introduction. In R. Starrs (Ed.), Japanese cultural nationalism at home and in the Asia-Pacific (pp. 1–19). Kent: Global Oriental. Stephens, C. S. (2008). Japanese popular music: Culture, authenticity, and power. London: Routledge. Yamada, J. (2004). Kokka: Kimigayo [National anthem]. In H. Okabe, (Ed.), Nihon ongaku kyoiku jiten [Japan dictionary of music education] (pp. 379–380). Tokyo: Ongaku no Tomosha [Nihon Ongaku Kyoiku Gakkai]. Yano, C. R. (1999). Distant homelands: Nation as place in Japanese popular song. In K. Yoshino (Ed.), Consuming ethnicity and nationalism: Asian experiences (pp. 158–176). Surrey: Curzon. Yomiuri Shinbun. (2004, April 6). Kokka seisho mondaide kyoin 20ninwo chokaishobun – Tokyotokyoi [20 teachers punished over national anthem issue]. Yoneyama, S. (1999). The Japanese high school: Silence and resistance. London: Routledge. Yoshino, K. (1999). Rethinking theories of nationalism: Japan’s nationalism in a marketplace perspective. In K. Yoshino (Ed.), Consuming ethnicity and nationalism: Asian experiences (pp. 8–28). Surrey: Curzon. Zeng, K., & LeTendre, G. K. (1999). ‘‘The dark side of . . .’’ Suicide, violence and drug use in Japanese schools. In G. K. LeTendre (Ed.), Competitor or ally? Japan’s role in American educational debates. New York: Falmer Press.

Chapter 17

Ensemble Ethos: Theorizing Cultures of Musical Achievement

木を見て森を見ず kiwomite moriwomizu ‘‘To not see the wood for the trees’’

Music philosophers Contantijn Koopman and Stephen Davies have observed that ‘‘When successfully engaging in music as a group, we do not merely share a great experience; we also promote our sense of belonging together, our belief in our capacity for effective collective action, and our joint commitment to ideals that go beyond our private well being.’’1 Based on observation of successful Japanese wind bands, this chapter presents a theoretical model that illustrates the ensemble leader’s role in guiding musicians toward the acquisition of further musical skills and understandings. Within this Ensemble Ethos Model, the music teaching process is reconfigured beyond mere transmission of instructional content, toward a perspective that accounts for collective learning and social interaction: how an effective music teacher will nurture a culture of musical achievement. While unusual in such fields as ethnomusicology, the development and application of theoretical models has been proposed as one way of contributing to more precise discussion of issues, problems, and processes in music teacher education.2 While this Ensemble Ethos model was originally conceived as a theoretical framework for conceptualizing the array of relationships and processes associated with successful music ensembles, it may also hold potential as a pragmatic tool for music teacher education, facilitating the development of holistic understandings associated with the ‘‘thoughtful practice’’ of reflective teaching.3 It must also be understood that the minimalist model proposed here is based on a post-positivist orientation, meaning that rather than establishing a framework for empirical testing, it is envisioned as an interpretive and pragmatic tool to stimulate reflective self-critique on the part of ensemble directors, and to guide the development of criteria for music program evaluation.4 Effective music conductors and ensemble directors frequently grapple with the question of how best to create the conditions necessary for their ensembles to improve and thrive. This book has (hopefully) demonstrated that an ethnographic perspective – one that holistically describes relationships in D.G. Hebert, Wind Bands and Cultural Identity in Japanese Schools, 251 Landscapes: the Arts, Aesthetics, and Education 9, DOI 10.1007/978-94-007-2178-4_17, Ó Springer ScienceþBusiness Media B.V. 2012

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context – may be as valuable as a reductive approach – one that measures and analyzes individual behaviors of music teachers and students – for understanding the processes of music teaching and learning.5 The Ensemble Ethos Model, designed for both descriptive and prescriptive application, aims to enable participants to rethink the characteristic features of successful large ensembles by broadening their focus from effective transmission of musical content to also include a more holistic view: leadership and instructional strategies that may nurture a culture of musical achievement. The Ensemble Ethos Model consists of two components, entitled ‘‘The Rehearsal Process’’ (Fig. 17.1) and ‘‘Contextual Relationships’’ (Fig. 17.2). Illustrations of the model are presented below, followed by explanation. Part one of this model, ‘‘The Rehearsal Process’’ represents an essential set of quasi-universal relationships formed through interactions among the aspiring musicians and leader of a successful large music ensemble (Fig. 17.1). The rehearsal zone is the setting in which aspiring musicians interact with the ensemble leader for the purposes of improving their musical performance and developing greater musical understanding. Within this model, the definitions of ensemble leader and aspiring musicians are intentionally malleable to accommodate various kinds of ensembles. For example, the aspiring musicians may be the wind band at a local middle school, or perhaps the jazz band at a particular high school in Mississippi, or even the Thai mahori ensemble at Mahidol University in Bangkok, or a senior citizen handbell choir in Sao Paulo, Brazil. The ensemble leader might be a middle school band director, but she could also be the leader of a church choir or a community-based mariachi ensemble. The ensemble leader’s

Key objective: To nurture a culture of musical achievement

Fig. 17.1 Ensemble ethos model: (1) The rehearsal process

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‘‘instruction’’ encompasses verbal directions, modeling, and feedback (both positive and negative, verbal and non-verbal) regarding the ensemble’s ongoing performance. ‘‘Response’’ and ‘‘mentorship’’ are two additional key components of the rehearsal processes that have remained relatively under-researched. ‘‘Response’’ refers to both the feedback (verbal questions and comments, and non-verbal cues) and the actual performance obtained from the aspiring musicians within the rehearsal zone. The inclusion of ‘‘mentorship’’ in this model is due to the fact that some form of peer tutoring is often encountered, and may be an essential element of, most kinds of successful large ensembles across a wide array of musical traditions.6 Careful institutionalization and monitoring of mentorship may lead to empowerment of the aspiring musicians and contribute to a healthy construction of community within the ensemble ethos. The second part of the Ensemble Ethos Model is entitled ‘‘Contextual Relationships’’ (Fig. 17.2). Most every ensemble requires some kind of institutional affiliation, and that context might be a school, temple, community center, or other organization. The role of the ensemble within the institutional context is an issue of fundamental importance, as any ensemble perceived by its host institution as not fulfilling its expected role is unlikely to experience a long and prosperous future. It is essential that stakeholders support the objectives of the ensemble and are able to recognize its value.

Key objective: To nurture a culture of musical achievement

Fig. 17.2 Ensemble ethos model: (2) Contextual relationships

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As demonstrated by Coffman and Mumford, the relationship with the community is also of great importance in terms of resources and other means of support.7 Following previous models, the difference between ‘‘outside world’’ and community within this model is essentially one of degrees of familiarity.8 The term, community, certainly suggests the literal geographic locality within which the institution is situated, yet its meaning may be appropriately taken to encompass the full extent of broader connotations associated with this term. In other words, the community of musicians active in the genre performed by the ensemble in question may even be global in nature, as a virtual community linked by musical identity. Hence, the phrase, ‘‘Outside World’’, conversely denotes domains of unfamiliarity, both musical and sociocultural in nature. The Outside World refers to people who have little or no contact with (or awareness of) the music ensemble in question. Typically these are the people who are most likely to either dismiss the value of the institution in which the ensemble is situated or that of the ensemble itself, and attempts must be made to draw more of them into the supportive community. That nation is absent from this model is no oversight. It is hoped that in the new millennium a cosmopolitanism entailing empathy for world concerns might take precedence over explicitly national ones, particularly within the practice of music education.9 Typically, nation will be naturally incorporated into some local definitions of community, or may in some cases – particularly in large, multicultural nations – be seen as part of the Outside World. Certainly, key instructional concepts owed to the American experimental research tradition, such as teacher intensity, modeling, and verbal/non-verbal feedback still retain their significance within this reconceptualization.10 However, the Ensemble Ethos Model enables consideration of these issues as one part of a larger whole. Examination of particular cases in terms of this model may help explain why a band director with a deep understanding of music and instrumental methods and high ratings of ‘‘teacher intensity’’ (e.g. brisk instructional pacing, frequent eye-contact and feedback, etc.), who conducts a group using highlyappropriate repertoire, may still struggle to reach outstanding levels of ensemble achievement. In terms of Ensemble Ethos, a researcher or music teacher educator might ask the observed (whether a participant in a research study or a music teacher intern) to identify precise issues that impede the attainment of a culture of musical achievement in a specific ensemble. Are the current challenges associated more with ‘‘Contextual Relationships’’ or the ‘‘Rehearsal Process,’’ and which aspect in particular? Inadequacies within precise aspects of the Ensemble Ethos may turn out to be the crucial variable in such cases, as the instructor may not be receiving sufficient and accurate feedback from students, or students may be unsupportive of each other, for example. Motivation for music learning represents one of the key themes (among many) that may exemplify how an examination of ensemble ethos provides a deeper understanding of the diverse variables associated with achievement than mere analysis of the delivery of instructional content.11 It is widely recognized to be unusual for any large music ensemble to attain high levels of performance without a

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sustained determination on the part of its members for regular individual practice. Quality and quantity of individual practice may in fact prove to be even more significant than instructional effectiveness, repertoire choice, or other issues typically emphasized by music teacher effectiveness research in terms of relationship to ensemble achievement.12 In the case of Japanese school bands, individual practice as traditionally conceived – students rehearsing by themselves at home – does not play a significant role. Rather, students practice together with like instruments in conditions of extreme intensity, frequency, and discipline. This case suggests that the empowerment of students to take ownership of an ensemble – by actively training each other and practicing together – may be an important key to successful performance, even circumventing the need for significant parental involvement.13 Institutionalization of such practices, through effective delegation of responsibilities on the part of the ensemble leader, may enable more time and energy to be spent on other objectives. Hence, examination of this case in terms of the Ensemble Ethos Model will demonstrate how, beyond the atomistic characteristics of instructional effectiveness, the Japanese school band director successfully fulfills her holistic role: to facilitate practices that nurture a culture of musical achievement. Although developed with the direction of music ensembles in mind, this pragmatic model may also be applicable to some examples of performanceoriented classroom music teaching among large groups of students, or even music learning in virtual settings via online communities. Even in these most innovative of instructional settings, similar issues are faced by music teachers who strive to facilitate the emergence of intellectual and aesthetic synergy across a virtual ‘‘community of practice’’.14 By focusing on relationships and the nurturing of culture, music teachers may better recognize and respond to the broader set of issues involved in developing and maintaining a vibrant and inspiring music program. In addition to development of this model, several specific conclusions were attained through this study that will serve as the subject of the final concluding chapter.

Notes 1. See Koopman and Davies (2001), p. 271. 2. See Edwards (1992) and LeBlanc (1996) for discussion of how development of theoretical models may benefit music educators. Consideration of this Ensemble Ethos model has provided stimulation for interpretation of data in a recent study of a youth band in New Zealand (Hebert, 2008). 3. By ‘‘thoughtful practice,’’ I am using the terminology of Peter Webster (1999), who developed an insightful model of what he sees as fundamental long-term objectives for music teacher educators. 4. For detailed discussion of approaches to music program evaluation, see Colwell (2003a, 2003b). 5. There have been surprisingly few published monographs that examine music teaching and learning from such a perspective. See Campbell (2010) and McCarthy (1999) for examples of the few previous book-length publications of this kind.

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6. Institutionalization of an effective system of peer-tutoring and mentorship was determined through this study to be a contributing factor to the remarkable successes of Japanese school bands. A modicum of previous studies have examined peer tutoring in music ensemble contexts, but there is a great need for further research in this area (Alexander & Dorow, 1983; Goodrich, 2007). 7. Don Coffman and Monte Mumford (2002) have discussed the importance of establishing healthy relationships between school and community ensembles, and has been quite active in popularization of the New Horizons bands among senior citizens, which is a promising form of lifelong music education. 8. Patricia Shehan Campbell (1996) offers a useful concentric circles model that is especially applicable to classroom teaching among younger children. 9. This position is consistent with the mission statements of such UNESCO-affiliated organizations as the International Music Council and the International Society for Music Education, which promote intercultural understanding through music (rather than promotion of patriotic ideology). See Heimonen and Hebert (2010), Hebert (2006) and Hebert and Kertz-Welzel (2012) for discussion of the problematic role that nationalism has played in music education across various cultures and historical periods. 10. In his comprehensive review of quantitative research studies in the area of effective music teaching, Robert Duke (1999/2000) brilliantly demonstrates the collective usefulness of studies that to the novice often appear to only provide incremental findings of little relevance. His article is arguably among the most useful publications to date in terms of demonstrating the value of quantitative approaches to research in music education. 11. This assertion appears to be consistent with much of the recent research on motivation in music learning. See Austin, Renwick, and McPherson (2006) and McPherson and Davidson (2006) for further discussion. 12. Studies of rehearsal strategies among jazz musicians seem to provide especially valuable insights in this area, with great potential to enhance the teaching of individual practice strategies (Faulkner, 2006). While the pioneering contributions of ethnomusicologists must be recognized, more extensive empirical research is needed on the teaching and learning of music in an array of traditions around the world (Rice, 2003, 2010). 13. Many music education researchers, including Hallam (2002), have identified parental involvement as a fundamental component of music learning, which is certainly consistent with the Suzuki Method that originated in Japan. The case of Japanese school bands offers a counterintuitive challenge to such theories, since parents are relatively uninvolved in these ensembles. The Ensemble Ethos Model may guide systematic consideration of other factors that contribute to the success of music ensembles for cases in which parental support is relatively absent. 14. See Hebert (2007) and Ruthmann and Hebert (in press) for discussion of issues in online music communities, which promise to play an important role in both professional development and lifelong music education.

References Alexander, L., & Dorow, L. G. (1983). Peer tutoring effects on the music performance of tutors and tutees in beginning band classes. Journal of Research in Music Education, 31(1), 33–47. Austin, J., Renwick, J., & McPherson, G. E. (2006). Developing motivation. In G. E. McPherson (Ed.), The child as musician: A handbook of musical development (pp. 213–238). New York: Oxford University Press. Campbell, P. S. (1996). Music, education, and community in multicultural societies. In M. McCarthy (Ed.), Crosscurrents: Setting an agenda for music education in community culture (pp. 4–33). College Park, MD: University of Maryland.

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Campbell, P. S. (2010). Songs in their heads: Music and its meaning in children’s lives (2nd ed.). New York: Oxford University Press. Coffman, D. D., & Mumford, M. H. (2002). Community and school music wind bands: Making and retaining effective, complementary, rewarding relationships. ISME Community Music Activity Seminar: Community Music in the Modern Metropolis, 1–5. Retrieved September 11, 2011, from http://www.worldmusiccentre.com/uploads/cma/coffman.PDF Colwell, R. J. (2003a). Introduction: Program evaluation in music teacher education. Bulletin of the Council for Research in Music Education, 158, 1–3. Colwell, R. J. (2003b). Program evaluation in music teacher education. Bulletin of the Council for Research in Music Education, 158, 4–41. Duke, R. A. (1999/2000). Measures of instructional effectiveness in music research. Bulletin of the Council for Research in Music Education, 143, 1–48. Edwards, R. H. (1992). Model building. In R. Colwell (Ed.), Handbook of research on music teaching and learning (pp. 38–47). New York: Schirmer. Faulkner, R. R. (2006). Shedding culture. In H. S. Becker, R. R. Faulkner, & B. KirshenblattGimblett (Eds.), Art from start to finish: Jazz, painting, writing, and other improvisations (pp. 91–117). Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Goodrich, A. (2007). Peer mentoring in a high school jazz ensemble. Journal of Research in Music Education, 55(2), 94–114. Hallam, S. (2002). Musical motivation: Towards a model synthesizing the research. Music Education Research, 4(2), 225–244. Hebert, D. G. (2006). Rethinking patriotism: National anthems in music education. AsiaPacific Journal for Arts Education, 4(1), 21–39. Hebert, D. G. (2007). Five challenges and solutions in online music teacher education. Research and Issues in Music Education, 5. Retrieved September 11, 2011, from http:// www.stthomas.edu/rimeonline/vol5/hebert.htm Hebert, D. G. (2008). Music transmission in an Auckland Tongan community youth band. International Journal of Community Music, 1(2), 169–188. Hebert, D. G., & Kertz-Welzel, A. (Eds.). (forthcoming, 2012). Patriotism and nationalism in music education. Aldershot: Ashgate. Heimonen, M., & Hebert, D. G. (2010). Pluralism and minority rights in music education: Implications of the legal and social philosophical dimension. Visions of Research in Music Education, 15, 1–34. Retrieved September 11, 2011, from http://www-usr.rider.edu/ vrme/v15n1/index.htm Koopman, C., & Davies, S. (2001). Musical meaning in broader perspective. Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism, 59(3), 261–273. LeBlanc, A. (1996). Building theory in music education: A personal account. Philosophy of Music Education Review, 4(2), 107–116. McCarthy, M. (1999). Passing it on: The transmission of music in Irish culture. Cork: Cork University Press. McPherson, G. E., & Davidson, J. W. (2006). Playing an instrument. In G. E. McPherson (Ed.), The child as musician: A handbook of musical development (pp. 331–351). New York: Oxford University Press. Rice, T. (2003). The ethnomusicology of music learning and teaching. College Music Symposium, 43, 65–85. Rice, T. (2010). Disciplining ethnomusicology: A call for a new approach. Ethnomusicology, 54(2), 318–325. Ruthmann, A., & Hebert, D. G. (in press). Music learning and new media in virtual and online environments. In G. McPherson & G. Welch (Eds.), Oxford handbook of music education. New York: Oxford University Press. Webster, P. (1999). Preparing teachers of music for a lifetime. Journal of Aesthetic Education, 33(4), 179–192.

Chapter 18

Conclusions

亀の甲より年の功 Kameno kou yori toshino kou ‘‘Stronger than the tortoise’s shell are lessons from life’’

18.1 Overview of Conclusions As this book draws to a conclusion, it is important to reconsider what exactly is meant by ‘‘cultural identity’’, as well as the various ways this study demonstrates the contribution of wind bands to the construction of cultural identity in Japanese schools. Stuart Hall has provided a particularly insightful description of cultural identity: Cultural identities come from somewhere, have histories. But, like everything else which is historical, they undergo constant transformation. Far from being eternally fixed in some essentialist past, they are subject to the continuous ‘‘play’’ of history, culture and power . . . cultural identity is a matter of ‘‘becoming’’ as well as of ‘‘being’’. It belongs to the future as much as to the past.1

With Hall’s realization in mind, this book was written from both historical and ethnographic perspectives, including deliberate efforts to acknowledge the historical antecedents and evolution of current practices, as well as the means by which new understandings of the past are created in the present. Cultural identity has therefore been systematically considered in relation to music teaching and learning strategies, educational and musical institutions, wind band repertoire, the musical instrument industry, popular media, and the construction of gender and nation within the sphere of Japanese school bands. But to what extent is it valid to suggest that wind band music may indicate something larger about the nation of Japan? Henry Johnson has observed the following regarding the representation of nationhood in music: The relationship between music and national identity might be viewed in two separate ways. Firstly, there is music that has the objective of either representing a nation or being representative of a nation. Secondly, there are the musics that exist within a

D.G. Hebert, Wind Bands and Cultural Identity in Japanese Schools, 259 Landscapes: the Arts, Aesthetics, and Education 9, DOI 10.1007/978-94-007-2178-4_18, Ó Springer ScienceþBusiness Media B.V. 2012

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nation that may have distinct sources or influences from outside a nation’s national borders.2

Following Johnson’s delineation, one may recognize how the expression of cultural identity in music extends far beyond national anthems to include even how musical concepts and practices are adopted from abroad. For such reasons, the teaching of wind band music in Japan offers rich and important insights into cultural identity. Still, some postmodernists might argue that the very notion of cultural identity itself is an outdated or useless construct. Regarding contemporary Japanese cultural identity, anthropologist Takie Sugiyama Lebra has asserted the following: I do not hesitate to refer to ‘‘a culture’’ or ‘‘Japanese culture,’’ meaning a pragmatically chosen construct that is meaningful given my objectives (and with the same rationale I have no problem speaking about ‘‘Western culture’’). I stress that a construct is not an illusion but a necessary device that allows us to grasp a targeted aspect of reality. The validity of any given construct depends on the extent to which it ‘‘works’’ better than another in this regard.3

Lebra’s pragmatic position resonates with the positions of vast majority of contemporary scholars who have deeply experienced cultural differences for themselves and chosen to focus their efforts on intercultural and internationalcomparative research. In the field of music education, Minette Mans has illustrated the importance of cultural identity, but also asserted that identity construction must be recognized as a ‘‘complex and multilayered’’ process that may be ascribed, negotiated, fragmented, and even deliberately transformed.4 With these points in mind, for the sake of clarity it is useful to consider the findings of this study in terms of three distinct categories of interest: (A) the teacher, (B) the students, and (C) the system. The teacher and student categories in this case refer to findings specific to the Ishikawa Middle School band, while the category of ‘‘system’’ indicates more general findings regarding the Japanese school band system and its sociocultural context. Conclusions Overview A. Several characteristics of ‘‘the teacher’’ have been identified in this study (Fig. 18.1). The weekly schedule of Japanese school band directors tends to be remarkably full. Kato Sensei reported an estimated 75 h/week devoted to work at the Ishikawa Middle School, and transportation between her home and the campus. Like most Japanese school band directors, she received little training in band directing techniques from her university, but Kato Sensei actively participated in band organizations, and pursued opportunities to learn from clinicians. Rather than merely focusing on the learning of musical skills and concepts, Kato Sensei’s coaching emphasized the development of teamwork and leadership ability through cooperative learning within her ensemble, and displayed genuine concern for the social development of the Ishikawa Middle School band members. Kato Sensei systematically incorporated the delegation of responsibility to student leaders into her instructional approach, and

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The Middle School Band Director (Kato Sensei): (A-1) Overworked (with transportation time, 75 hours per week) (A-2) Essentially self-trained as a band conductor, with guidance from the community (A-3) Cares about the social development of students (e.g. leadership, teamwork, etc.) (A-4) Highly skilled at delegating responsibility to student leaders (A-5) Provides much negative verbal feedback; little positive feedback (A-6) Uses semi-sequential patterns of instruction, with minimal technical content (A-7) Conducting gestures are clear and efficient (A-8) Chooses technically challenging repertoire, mostly without student input (A-9) Intensity/magnitude (eye contact, pacing, etc.) varies by activity, piece, day (A-10) Improvisation generally remains untaught within the band (A-11) Keyboard and voice are used for modeling of musical phrases (A-12) Both loved and feared by the band members (A-13) In the band context, the repertoire is the curriculum (A-14) Aspects of instruction resemble hogaku pedagogy and moral education

Fig. 18.1 Conclusions overview A: The teacher

consistently emphasized the importance of student leadership in the ensemble. Kato Sensei frequently provided negative feedback in her instruction, with minimal positive feedback. She incorporated semi-sequential patterns into a 5-point instructional approach, and rarely used metaphorical explanations in her descriptions of the music. Kato Sensei’s conducting gestures were concise, unambiguous, and generally effective. Kato Sensei selected the ensemble’s repertoire, and her choice of competition pieces were quite challenging, although lighter pieces were also used for some performances. The intensity of Kato Sensei’s directing varied day-by-day, and certainly increased during the final rehearsals prior to major performances. Musical improvisation was not a part of the selected repertoire, nor was it to be found elsewhere in the Ishikawa Middle School band activities (or, its tacit ‘‘curriculum’’). Kato Sensei modeled particular phrases and techniques with keyboard and voice as she directed the ensemble. While she did not personally make use of solmization or mnemonics, students did so on their own within paatore (sectional rehearsals), particularly within their sheet music markings. Ishikawa Middle School band members expressed through both interviews and documents that they considered Kato Sensei to be very strict within rehearsals, yet they also really liked her and felt that she cared for them. The repertoire chosen by Kato Sensei served as the only curriculum for the model of musical learning observed in this band. The sense of hierarchy associated with both hogaku pedagogy and Japanese moral education was also highly evident within the Ishikawa Middle School band, consistently reinforced within Kato Sensei’s instruction. Conclusions Overview B. Several characteristics of ‘‘the students’’ were identified in this study (Fig. 18.2). The membership of the Ishikawa Middle School band consisted of 95% girls, a figure that was quite similar to other Japanese school bands observed at the highest levels of competition. A wide range of personalities and levels of

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The Ishikawa Middle School Band Students: (B-1) 95% girls, diverse personalities and levels of maturity are evident (B-2) Varying leadership styles in sectionals: Intense driller vs. empathetic consultant (B-3) Social hierarchy: Ritualized behavior ensures constant awareness of rank (B-4) Learn instruments through devoted imitation of Sempai (senior students) (B-5) Rehearse at school, not at home; parents are relatively uninvolved (B-6) Individual practice is reduced to a component of sectional rehearsals (B-7) Recorded models are used frequently in sectional rehearsals (B(B-9) Motivation: Generally unsure of role of music in their future (even high school) (B-10) Motivation: Competition viewed as meaningless without top honors (gold) (B-11) Instruments selected for new students by inkai (closed-door committees) (B-12) Individual parts are well-studied, marked to a degree resembling abstract art (B-13) Time management (balance of band and academic work) can be a problem (B-14) Little is known about band composers, band history, meaning of pieces, etc. (B-15) Cooperation is a fundamental trope, pervading the school band ethos

Fig. 18.2 Conclusions overview B: The students

maturity was observed in the behavior of the Ishikawa Middle School band members (aged 12–15), particularly within their sectional rehearsals. Diverse personality styles were particularly evident in the leadership approaches taken by various section leaders. Ritualized behavior and language reinforce awareness of rank within the organization. Basic instrument techniques were learned primarily within sectional rehearsals, under the close guidance of slightly-older Sempai, who mentor the younger students. The school band members tended to practice for long hours at school (in excess of 20 h/week at the Ishikawa Middle School, which is not unusual among such bands), and generally did not take their instruments home for individual practice. Rather, individual practice occured at school, within the small-group context of sectional rehearsals. Parents play a minimal role in these bands, but support the ensembles by paying the annual band participation fees, which tend to be quite inexpensive relative to Japan’s economy. Ishikawa Middle School band members received CD recordings of professional performances of the repertoire to be learned, custommade by Kato Sensei. The students listened to these CD recordings at home, as well as within their sectional rehearsals. They also made recordings of their own playing within the sectional rehearsals, and collectively compared these with the professional models, which were considered to embody the definitive versions of each piece. Ishikawa Middle School band members (along with their school principal, Kato Sensei, and other band conductors) asserted that only ‘‘iiko’’ (good kids) join and remain in school bands, as membership requires too much dedication and discipline for misbehaving children to bear. Indeed, disciplinary problems were not encountered among any of the Japanese school bands observed, which is certainly unusual among this age group, regardless of cultural context. Ishikawa Middle School band members reported that they were motivated to enter the band by the attraction of both their peers and the

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music itself, even though most did not have a clear sense of what their future musical activities would be, even upon entering high school. Participation in the AJBA band competition played a significant role in student motivation for achievement in the Ishikawa Middle School band, and band members indicated that they ‘‘hated’’ receiving anything but the highest possible scores for their performance. Inkai (closed-door committees) of student leaders were used to assign particular instruments to incoming students, based upon the perceived needs of the ensemble. Students marked their individual sheet music parts with copious notes of various kinds in many different colors, a practice also observed among several other Japanese school bands. Band members admitted that it was difficult to balance the requirements of band participation with their academic work, but also acknowledged that much of the time their academic work was not very challenging. Ishikawa Middle School band members had little opportunity to learn about the background of the music they performed – the history of wind bands, the biographies of the composers who had produced their repertoire, the meanings associated with particular pieces – for these lessons, frequently found in formal band classes, would not be featured in an after school extra-curricular activity. As Chapter 11 demonstrates, kyoryoku (cooperation) was a fundamental theme emphasized in social interactions throughout the ensemble. Conclusions Overview C. Several characteristics of ‘‘the system’’ were identified through this study as nationally applicable to Japanese wind bands (Fig. 18.3). Kato Sensei reported that she learned little about band from her university training, which appears to be common among Japanese school band directors. According to documents and interviews, bands are unrivaled as the most popular large instrumental ensemble in Japanese schools, and they are also the most popular ensemble within lifelong learning in Japan.5 Typically, the Ishikawa Middle School band rehearsed 20 h/week, a rehearsal schedule that is not uncommon among competitive Japanese school bands. Bands from

The Japanese School Band System: (C-1) Bands receive little attention within university music education departments (C-2) Bands are the most popular large instrumental ensemble in Japanese schools (C-3) Bands are the most popular instrumental ensemble in lifelong learning programs (C-4) It is not uncommon for successful bands to rehearse over 20 hours per week (C-5) Bands at elite schools have an advantage in terms of private instrument lessons (C-6) AJBA competitions are the key event in the schedule of most Japanese school bands (C-7) AJBA commissions and customized arrangements contribute to the band repertoire (C-8) Although Texas-influenced, the AJBA organizational model is unique (C-9) The AJBA competition may be (C-10) Many Japanese girls develop leadership skills through school band (C-11) School band participation contributes to musical identity construction

Fig. 18.3 Conclusions overview C: The system

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wealthier schools reportedly have greater access to private instrumental teachers within their band programs. Most Japanese school bands participate in the AJBA competition, and structure their annual schedules around it. Annually, AJBA commissions produce several new works per year by Japanese composers, and many brief band showcase arrangements are also produced specifically to meet the requirements of the competition. While the AJBA contest has been influenced by the Texas Music Educators Association band competition, it is quite unique in terms of its degree of influence, organizational model, contest guidelines, and procedures. Overall, school band is a domain in which many Japanese girls are provided with unique leadership opportunities, and all participants are expected to serve as mentors as they attain seniority within the organization. Participation in school band clearly contributes to students’ musical identity, particularly in terms of gender and nationality.

18.2 The World’s Finest School Bands The opening pages of this study present several enthusiastic statements regarding Japanese school bands. In closing, it seems useful to review why such statements matter, and what they appear to suggest about the significance of this topic. Certainly any claim to be the ‘‘world’s finest’’ is inevitably subjective, however the relative strength of such statements was considered noteworthy in this case due the five factors of authority, broad consensus, positionality, uniqueness, and absence of opposition. Authority. Expert western band directors are among the voices lauding the ‘‘amazing’’ achievements of Japanese school bands, including many highly accomplished and influential conductors. Broad consensus. These statements cannot be characterized as merely a few careless remarks associated with fringe figures. Rather, such claims were made by numerous directors, based on diverse experiences, and printed in a variety of publications. Positionality. Western band directors do not benefit from claiming that Japanese school bands are superior. Rather, such statements could even be interpreted as reluctant confessions. Uniqueness. No alternative claims of a similar ilk are being produced. There appear to be no published accounts of band directors claiming that Finnish or Turkish school bands are ‘‘amazing’’ for example. Absence of opposition. There appear to be no published claims that the achievements of Japanese bands have been over-rated in previous publications. However, what do claims of this nature really mean? This question must be considered carefully, in context. Nobody appears to be asserting that the average Japanese school band is outstanding, or even finer than the average American school band. What these claims actually suggest is that from the perspective of Western band experts, the very finest performances of the most

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outstanding school bands from all of Japan are extraordinary. Observations from the present study do not give any cause to challenge such statements, although the caveat must be added that the claim of ‘‘world’s finest’’ would probably not apply to Japan’s college bands and school jazz ensembles. As this book has demonstrated, some Japanese middle school bands perform at an astonishingly high level, yet devotion to such an intense practice regimen appears to decrease as students become older. While Japanese high school bands can be very impressive, they tend to be somewhat less impressive than the middle school bands relative to their counterparts in other nations, which appears to be due to progressively increasing demands on students’ time. This pattern of increasing demands and decreasing band rehearsal time continues to the next stage of education with some rather strong Japanese university bands, yet at the elite music conservatories students tend to give more of their attention to symphony orchestra, opera, and chamber music. Jazz ensembles, on the other hand, are increasingly found as extracurricular clubs at this stage, and a few Japanese universities have very recently established actual jazz programs, which may soon become a new growth area. Finally, depending upon one’s operational definitions, such claims of ‘‘world’s finest’’ may even be testable (verifiable/falsifiable) through use of statistical analyses with an expert panel and a blind review of music recordings from various bands performing identical repertoire under identical conditions. It would indeed be very interesting to see these assertions actually tested by future studies, for it truly seems possible that recordings of some leading Japanese middle school bands would actually be rated higher than many American university bands. This study has produced a number of specific findings, yet there are also broader implications to be derived from consideration of its results within the context of global theories and practices in the fields of music and education. The significance of these findings will now be presented in terms of practical implications for music educators.

18.3 Practical Implications for Music Teachers The findings of this study have broad implications for practicing music teachers that encompass a diversity of themes, including competition, gender, nationalism, peer tutoring, transculturation, parental involvement, and community partnership in lifelong learning. Competition. The model of music education described in this study is particularly illustrative of both the positive and negative aspects of competition, as it functions as a goal and a motivator in musical learning. Further research is needed on musical competition to determine the effects of its application both within ensembles (through the awarding of hierarchical chairs and solo parts) and between ensembles (in public competitions), and it may be premature to explicitly

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propose normative protocols. Still, it seems reasonable to suggest that in theory, some benefits of music competitions may potentially exceed the detrimental aspects, and one viable solution has been to offer a kind of compromise: quasicompetitive festivals, in which less emphasis is placed on competition against rivals, and a greater diversity of awards are offered. Yet beyond the North American development of festivals that have edged into the realm of clinical adjudication rather than ‘‘battles of the bands’’, one might envision an event with citations to bands in a broad variety of categories that might include improvement, diversity (‘‘bimusicality,’’ or breadth of genres performed), improvisation, sightreading, original student composition, visual appeal (e.g. choreography or marching), and audience favorite selected by popular vote. All bands entering such a festival would receive a citation of one sort or another, in addition to discrete recommendations based on evaluation of the standardized criteria typically used for adjudication of school-affiliated ensembles. Such use of a greater diversity of award categories within music competitions might help to lessen the emphasis on final scores from adjudicators, and provide encouragement for creative experimentation. Experts in various fields could also be called upon to give specialist advice to each participating ensemble through clinics and workshops, as an additional component of the event. Many positive features of the AJBA model also merit consideration in the design of such events, including the three-tiered organization of its nation-wide contest, as well as its annual commissioning of original contest pieces, production of professional CDs and DVDs of student performances, inclusion of intergenerational ensembles, and mutuallybeneficial collaboration with music industry sponsors. Gender. Gender is another domain in which this study has implications. Namely, Western school band directors who are challenged by instrumental gender stereotypes would do well to become aware of, and to pass on to their own students, the reality that many of the brass and percussion players in the world’s finest school bands are girls. Video excerpts of performances from the All-Japan Band Association national competition could be shown as evidence for this assertion, and might also inspire female students.6 Nationalism. Patriotism and national identity is another theme examined in this study, particularly through description of the history of Japanese school bands and the current use of Japan’s national anthem in schools. While an appreciation for the positive aspects of one’s homeland and cultural traditions certainly has its rightful place, the tendency for nationalism to incite the ultimate horror of war is a concern that conscientious educators may never comfortably overlook. At various points during the twentieth century, and even in recent years, American educators have rallied to support the cause of nationalism through increased emphasis on patriotic music in school classrooms. Alternatively, global understanding, multicultural awareness, and tolerance are educational ideals that many would argue merit greater emphasis in the music classrooms of today. The extent to which such policies reflect the most fundamental objectives of our profession is an issue that may require further introspection. Detailed analyses of patriotic music education practices in other

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nations may enable music educators to rethink this process at home, from outside a routine perspective of tacit assumptions.7 American music teachers would do well to reflect upon the subtle effects that their choices of instructional content and delivery style have on foreign-born and minority students, as well as the worldview of their entire classroom. The survival of democracy may require students’ views to be faithfully respected. Moreover, students’ personal musical preferences may inform the most effective routes to successful musical learning. Such considerations fit into the broader concern of developing a more transforming, empowering, and democratic practice of music education.8 Peer tutoring. The institutionalization of mentorship and peer tutoring was identified as a contributing factor to the unusually high musical achievement of Ishikawa Middle School band members. Similar relationships could be effectively nurtured within the school and community ensembles of other nations. However, it may be advisable to systematically monitor such relationships, with concern for the preservation of student autonomy, and to ensure against the development of any oppressive or coercive behaviors. As illustrated by the Ensemble Ethos model (Fig. 17.1), the eliciting of a constant stream of feedback from the aspiring musicians is essential in this regard. Transculturation. The case of Japanese school bands represents a highly significant model with implications for other nations, for as other scholars have asserted, ‘‘it is undeniable that Japan occupies a key position in the globalization of Western music.’’9 This study has demonstrated that within a few generations of use in a school system, the performance of culturally-distant musical traditions can be mastered by young students, albeit using pedagogical approaches that may differ significantly from that of the genre’s culture of origin.10 This finding lends additional support to the notion that the infusion of ‘‘world music’’ traditions in schools leads not only to an increased appreciation for cultural diversity, but in time may produce a high level of musicianship across a greater breadth of genres.11 This case has also shown that music teachers may learn to effectively teach such unfamiliar ensembles and traditions through continuing education and lifelong learning programs that connect educators with community artists. Parental involvement. The role of parents was another theme with findings that were unexpected and quite interesting. Most Ishikawa Middle School band members came from working class families, and motivation to devote such time and energy to the band derived from the encouragement of their peers, rather than actively-involved parents. Contrary to many familiar cases (most notably, the Suzuki Method), parents are essentially absent from this model of outstanding musical achievement. In that regard, the Japanese school band model appears to represent a significant exception to the ‘‘systems framework’’ of parentteacher-pupil interactions, as outlined by music educationists.12 Rather, findings from the present study suggest that in some exceptionally effective programs, parental support may be relatively unnecessary to attain high levels of musical achievement. This conclusion may be taken as a message of hope to educators who have grown pessimistic with decreasing levels of parental support,

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particularly in urban and low-income settings. This case clearly demonstrates that despite a lack of parental involvement, it may be possible to implement a highly effective school music program. However, the means to that end may often be not easily attained, and in some cases, music educators will need to enlist the support of administrators, teacher colleagues, allied staff, and community leaders, in order to facilitate the deep structural reforms necessary to enable formation of a culture of musical achievement. School music teachers may also have much to learn from community music programs in this regard. Community partnership in lifelong learning. This study also provides an interesting model of how music participation can be enhanced through effective partnerships between schools and community organizations (Fig. 17.2).13 Many aspects of the interactions observed in the Japanese middle school band are comparable to relationships encountered in Western community-based organizations. Based upon years of research among adolescents in 60 youthbased organization sites in the United States, McLaughlin and Heath concluded that activities in these organizations suggest a sense of ownership these young people gain is a shared one – a sense of ‘‘being in this together’’ with the team, the center, or the troupe. Although each individual must be able to hold up his or her responsibilities, each does so with a view of connection and linkage. Letting down on the part of one person weakens the entire enterprise; thus, the youngsters work hard to keep each other up and to bring recalcitrants in line. A program attractive to teenagers is a program that is ‘‘theirs.’’ A program attractive to adolescent youth empowers them, underscores their competence, and bolsters their sense of social worth.14

This description in many ways resembles processes observed among Japanese school bands. Previous research has identified the importance of facilitating practices that empower young music students and provide them with a sense of ‘‘ownership.’’15 Such empowerment of participants enables the construction of musical community.

18.4 Toward a Musical Community Putnam observed that the ‘‘collapse of community’’ is a root cause of many contemporary American social problems, but concluded that ‘‘participation in extracurricular activities’’ is a ‘‘proven means to increase civic and social involvement in later life.’’16 Schools in the United States and other nations would do well to allocate the necessary resources, in partnership with community organizations, to provide a diversity of relevant extracurricular programs to students with musical interests, whether in actual classroom instruction or extracurricular activities. Possibilities in this regard include not only the standard fare of wind bands, orchestras, jazz bands, and choirs, but also mariachi groups, rock bands, Latin dance bands, and other ensemble types, each with its own distinct advantages in terms of reaching disenfranchised students.17

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Christopher Small observed, ‘‘The big challenge to music educators today seems to me to be not how to produce more skilled professional musicians but how to provide that kind of social context for informal as well as formal musical interaction that leads to real development and to the musicalizing of the society as a whole.’’18 Empowering young musicians to take leadership in ensembles of their own will surely result in more fulfilling musical experiences and lead to greater rates of lifelong participation in music. One cannot help but be awestruck by the achievements of Japanese school band members and their directors. They have ‘‘raised the bar’’ for music educators of all nations, with expressive performances that thrill and inspire their communities. We still have much to learn from their enthusiasm, cooperative spirit, and intense efforts. In closing, it seems apt to bid the farewell exchanged by Ishikawa Middle School band members as they depart from their final performance: Go kuro sama!

Notes 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

7.

8. 9. 10.

11. 12. 13.

See Stuart Hall (1993, p. 394) for theoretical discussion of cultural identity. See Johnson (2010), p. 1. See Lebra (2004), p. 257. See Mans (2009), p. 98. This finding is from a report assembled by Mitsumori (2003). Commercially released videos of Japanese school bands include Japan’s Best for 2003 (2003), a particularly impressive example that is distributed outside Japan via Bravo Music. See Hebert (2006) for discussion of this issue. Concerns have also been raised by Humphreys (2006) and Jorgensen (2007) regarding what appears to be an increased emphasis on nationalism in music education within the United States during recent periods of military conflict. See Jorgensen (2003) for discussion of democratic approaches to music education. See Gottschewski and Gottschewski (2006), p. 169. Merry White has observed that ‘‘in borrowing European and American models of schooling Japan did not borrow Western conceptions of learning and childhood’’ (White, 1987, p. 4). This book has demonstrated that the system of school bands in Japan, while highly successful in terms of Western performance standards, is based upon quite different assumptions, values and objectives than is commonly seen in European and American school music ensembles. See Reimer (2002), Drummond (2005), Hebert and Karlsen (2010) for further discussion of this issue. See Creech and Hallam (2003), p. 40. Researchers affiliated with Japan’s National Institute for Educational Policy Research have concluded that ‘‘various policies of recent years have tied schools closer to the community and industry, and are working in the direction of smoothing the process of preparing young people for society’’ (Tatsuta, Yamada, Sasai, Sawano, & Iwasaki, 2002, p. 26). In terms of lifelong learning, it is significant that the All-Japan Band Association national competition combines school-affiliated, company-affiliated, and community bands within a single contest, albeit distinct divisions. In this regard, the Japanese school

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14. 15. 16. 17.

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band model engenders the notion of music participation as a lifelong activity, as it promotes conceptual links between young musicians and institutions in their local communities. Coffman and Mumford have observed that collaboration between community music and school programs produces ‘‘increased opportunities for cross-age contact between children, adolescents and adults. These interactions help to reinforce attitudes about the benefits of respect, commitment, responsibility, and a spirit of cooperation. In short, these kinds of interactions serve to link school and community experiences for the student’’ (Coffman and Mumford, 2002, p. 5). This notion of community plays a highly significant role within Japanese school bands. See McLaughlin and Heath (1993), p. 218. See Allsup (2003) for discussion of how ‘‘ownership’’ may be instilled among students via democratic practices in music education. See Putnam (2000), p. 405. Several relevant publications discuss such topics, including Hebert (2009, 2011), Rodriguez (2004), Keil (1985), and Taylor, Barry, and Walls (1997). Basil Bernstein’s theories may also offer a helpful framework that lends support to the opening up of such new forms of music offerings in schools. Ruth Wright (2010, p. 277) has proposed an insightful interpretation of how Bernstein’s notion of democratic rights might be applied to music education, emphasizing the themes of inclusion, enhancement, and participation. Inclusion, which is defined as ‘‘The right to be included intellectually, socially and culturally,’’ is considered in terms of three applications by Wright: (1) ‘‘The chance to see one’s own cultural image reflected as valued in the school mirror, and to perceive one’s voice as heard in the school acoustic,’’ (2) ‘‘The right not to feel excluded, and to be able to take part in musicking without experiencing disadvantage or alienation,’’ and (3) ‘‘The right to remain musically and culturally autonomous – not to be absorbed or have to conform to the dominant culture.’’ Enhancement, which is defined as ‘‘The right to the tools for critical reflection upon the present and the perception of possible new futures,’’ is offered two applications: (1) ‘‘The chance to acquire the faculty of critical reflection upon the musical and cultural givens in one’s life,’’ and (2) ‘‘The right to perceive musical participation as possible in the future.’’ Participation, which is defined as ‘‘The right to take part. The right to participate in situations where order is formed and changed,’’ is applied by Wright to the field of music education as ‘‘The chance to express an opinion about how musicking takes place and to have one’s opinion listened to and respected. Decisions about music in the educational environment to be taken wherever possible by a democratic process.’’ This vision offers useful insights that merit consideration when reflecting upon the holistic effectiveness of a music ensemble program in the context of a local community. See Small (1998), p. 208. Although Chris Small does not mention this point, innovations in music technology are leading to many new possibilities in this regard, particularly in terms of the increased ease by which individuals may create, record, and distribute their own music to peers throughout the world. There are also many new possibilities for music learning through online communities. For further information, see Hebert (2008) and Ruthmann and Hebert (in press).

References Allsup, R. E. (2003). Mutual learning and democratic action in instrumental music education. Journal of Research in Music Education, 51(1), 24–37. Coffman, D. D., & Mumford, M. H. (2002). Community and school music wind bands: Making and retaining effective, complementary, rewarding relationships. ISME Community Music Activity Seminar: Community Music in the Modern Metropolis, 1–5. Retrieved September 11, 2011, from http://www.worldmusiccentre.com/uploads/cma/coffman.PDF

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Ruthmann, A. & Hebert, D. G. (in press). Music learning and new media in virtual and online environments. In G. McPherson & G. Welch (Eds.), Oxford handbook of music education. New York: Oxford University Press. Small, C. (1998). Musicking: The meanings of performing and listening. Hanover, NH: Wesleyan University Press. Tatsuta, Y., Yamada, K., Sasai, H., Sawano, Y., & Iwasaki, K. (2002). New trends and challenges of lifelong learning policies in Japan. Unpublished paper from Making Lifelong Learning a Reality (Symposium, September 16–19, National Institute of Educational Policy Research, Tokyo JAPAN). Taylor, J. A., Barry, N. H., & Walls, K. C. (1997). Music and students at risk: Creative solutions for a national dilemma. Reston, VA: MENC. White, M. (1987). The Japanese educational challenge. New York: The Free Press. Wright, R. (2010). Democracy, social exclusion and music education: Possibilities for change. In R. Wright (Ed.), Sociology and music education (pp. 63–281). Aldershot: Ashgate.

Afterword

We’re the real countries; not the boundaries drawn on maps, the names of powerful men. – The English Patient (multiple Oscar-winning film) Thinking back, it is hard to believe that over 15 years have passed since I first observed a Japanese middle school band rehearsal in Kofu City. That was 1995, and I vividly recall how impressed I was with the band’s mature performance as well as the unique sound of the composition itself, which I later learned was an original piece by Kyoto composer Tetsunosuke Kushida. This was the time when I first began to recognize the adoption and mastery of artistic practices from abroad as a striking feature of contemporary Japan. I had also begun to notice that many Japanese seemed to have a clearer understanding of global events than most Americans I had known, and possessed a profound aesthetic sensibility. Since that time, I have enjoyed the tremendous privilege of interviewing most of the leading Japanese composers in the wind band idiom, including Toshio Mashima, Yasuhide Ito, Hiroshi Hoshina, Masamichi Amano, Isao Matsushita, and Tetsunosuke Kushida, as well as a man often credited as the ‘‘father of modern Japanese wind bands’’ conductor Toshio Akiyama. I have also learned greatly from friendships developed over the years with the director of Sekishi Wind Ensemble, Tatsutoshi Abe, as well as the conductor of the Japan Self Defense Forces Central Band, Lieutenant Colonel Akira Takeda, sociologist and band director Kanichi Abe, band scholar Katsuhiro Nakanowatari, and especially the prolific internationalist scholar Professor Shuhei Hosokawa, of Nichibunken. It has been a great pleasure to observe rehearsals of outstanding ensembles in the greater Tokyo area, including the Kunitachi College of Music Wind Ensemble, Toho Gakuen Wind Ensemble, Komazawa University High School Band, Tokai University High School Band, Sakuragawa Middle School Band, and many others. It has also been a great honor to repeatedly visit the headquarters of Japan’s leading professional bands, including what is arguably the world’s finest professional civilian wind ensemble, Tokyo Kosei D.G. Hebert, Wind Bands and Cultural Identity in Japanese Schools, Landscapes: the Arts, Aesthetics, and Education 9, DOI 10.1007/978-94-007-2178-4, Ó Springer ScienceþBusiness Media B.V. 2012

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Wind Orchestra, as well as Japan’s oldest professional orchestral ensemble, the Osaka Municipal Symphonic Band. My understanding has also benefitted from some contact with professional conductors who frequently direct leading Japanese bands, including a rare opportunity to speak – albeit very briefly – with the late maestro Frederick Fennell, as well as a few conversations, both in person and by email, with Douglas Bostock. There was so much to learn from each of these experiences, more than can possibly be conveyed in a single book. I must also express my sincere appreciation for scholarly grants that enabled this research to proceed across several years, as awarded by three institutions: (1) Japan Ministry of Education, Culture, Sports Science and Technology, (2) International Research Center for Japanese Studies (Nichibunken), a division of the National Institutes for the Humanities, and (3) National Band Association (of the United States). It is interesting to recall how Japanese musicians and educators have responded to this unusual choice of research topic, and how my perceptions changed over time, especially as I gained a deeper understanding of Japanese language and culture. Many whom I interviewed were incredibly generous, and inexplicable generosity is a trait I have quite often encountered in Japan. In fact, on two completely different occasions (despite my attempted refusals) I was given valuable trumpets by insistent Japanese men who were elderly and heavy smokers that could no longer play music themselves. I have often wondered what they saw in me, or in their experience of Western music, that made them so determined to freely give away such valuable instruments to a younger American trumpeter, but that also seems to be a story for another book. Japanese composers and band managers often generously provided me with multiple CD recordings so I could have access to their latest accomplishments, and many were quite candid and forthcoming with insightful stories. I sincerely hope this book will satisfy their expectations. One thing that struck me as particularly interesting was how often I encountered major figures in Japan’s band scene who expressed deep regrets regarding the current state of Japanese bands. I had begun this research with only some knowledge of the positive side of Japanese band achievement, so this was at first rather difficult to understand. Gradually the concerns associated with militaristic practices in Japanese wind bands became much more apparent. Younger musicians also frequently cautioned me that the official ‘‘history’’ of Japanese bands is fundamentally flawed, that I should not place much faith in what has been published on this topic by Japanese band directors, and that it would only become possible to write an accurate history when some of the band movement’s current leaders pass away. This warning, which I received from multiple sources across a period of several years, initially caused me to limit my historical discussion to one chapter in this book, written in a manner that left some questions open, and to effectively postpone producing a more comprehensive history of Japanese bands. However, an unfortunate turn of events that entailed some deeply disappointing false accusations compelled me to abruptly shift

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direction by delving as deeply as possible into the challenge of producing a thorough historical account. As I hope this discussion has demonstrated, there are many with vested interests and competing agendas associated with the current system, and even an entire industry of instrument makers, clinicians, composers, and publishers dependent on maintaining the status quo. Certainly the status quo entails many notable strengths, and all who contribute to the successes of this remarkable system deserve acknowledgement, yet at the same time successes in one domain may limit the possibilities for positive transformation in another. Sometimes I recall a time when I was told by the adjudicator of a wind band research organization that Japanese bands had ‘‘already been studied’’ and there was ‘‘nothing new’’ that my work could offer to the field. Apparently he had seen a few brief clinic presentations by Japanese band directors who had described repertoire and rehearsal techniques. He felt that was sufficient reason to simply dismiss my work as not worth reading. I hope that readers of this book – particularly younger scholars – who inevitably find themselves facing similar situations at times, will take heart in the fact that persistence may eventually trump the prejudices of bitter nay-sayers who value power more highly than knowledge, beauty, or justice. One can only hope to learn from such experiences, strive never to become bitter and closed-minded oneself, and joyously embrace the growing responsibilities that come with conscientious scholarship. It is clear to me that much was learned from pursuing this project, and I remain confident that some readers will find this book has been worth their time as well. Writing is always a challenge, and I am in awe of authors who manage to produce several notable publications across a lifetime of devoted scholarship. It has been an honor to learn from such people, one of whom was my dissertation supervisor, Patricia Shehan Campbell. I am also indebted to Steven Morrison for all he taught me about instrumental music education, and to Timothy Salzman and Norihisa Yamamoto, who guided my studies in wind conducting. As I first embarked on this topic, helpful bits of wisdom were also obtained from conversations with Bruno Nettl, Gerald Groemer, Christopher Blasdel, Chris Vincent, and Bonnie Wade. I thank Charles Keil for his inspiring correspondence, as well as Timothy Kern and both Kensho Takeshi and Masafumi Ogawa for encouraging and supporting my studies of music education in Japan. Japanese scholars Mitsuko Isoda and Koji Matsunobu have been tremendously generous and helpful, particularly in terms of steering me toward a more accurate understanding of Japanese society. At the final stages of this book, physicist Hiro Shimoyama was especially helpful in reconfirming my understanding of the contents of Japanese documents. I would also like to thank Henry Johnson and Jere Humphreys for providing outstanding models of rigorous scholarship, and for encouraging me to be courageous in my own writings. Liora Bresler deserves enormous credit, both for providing an inspiring model of global scholarship and for long seeing potential in my work that led her to publish this book as part of her innovative series on Springer press,

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Landscapes – The Arts, Aesthetics and Education. Above all, I must heartily thank all the Japanese musicians who participated in this research, including the school band members who shared so much of their time with me. It has been a tremendous honor to enjoy such profound opportunities as one progresses onward toward a deeper understanding of music and human life. Bergen, Norway

David G. Hebert

Glossary

Anime [アニメ] Animated feature films, often with music soundtracks that become popular among Japanese youth Awanai [合わない] ‘‘(It) doesn’t match’’: to not fit or blend in Basuto [バスト] Bass trombone (slang abbreviation) Bon [ボーン] Trombone (slang abbreviation) Bucho [部長] [Band] club leader Buin [部員] [Band] club members Bukatsudo [部活動] Extracurricular school club activity Buraban [ブラバン] Wind band [derived from ‘‘brass band’’] Chiiki [地域] Community Chimo namidamonai [血も涙もない] ‘‘No blood or tears’’: uncaring, inhumane Chindonya [チンドン屋] Informal and gawdily attired street musicians who have performed to promote sales in Japan since the start of the twentieth century. Chuui suru [注意する] To look after, to watch over Chuuningu [チューニング] ‘‘Tuning’’: to match pitch Daisempai [大先輩] ‘‘Big sempai’’: alumni from years past Danketsu [団結] Solidarity, unity Dejima [出島] Literally ‘‘exit island,’’ a man-made port near Nagasaki prior to the Meiji period Doutoku Kyoiku [道徳教育] Moral education (civics class) Dokyusei [同級生] Classmates of the same grade/year Enryo [遠慮] Restraint and subtlety

277

278

Glossary

Fukikata [吹き方] ‘‘Way to blow’’ (an instrument) Fuku Bucho [副部長] Assistant [band] club leader Futarigumi [二人組み] ‘‘Leaning pair’’ (a breathing exercise) Gakki [楽器] Musical instrument Gakunen [学年] Grade/year in school Gakusei [学生] Student (term used primarily by students) Gambare [頑張れ] To try one’s very best, give great efforts Gamman [我慢] To endure, persevere Gassou [合奏] Full ensemble rehearsal Geidai [芸大] [Tokyo] University of Arts Go kuro sama [ご苦労様] Thank you for your pain/for giving until it hurts Hajime [はじめ] Beginning, start Hiten [飛天] Flying celestial beings, or Buddhist angels Hougaku [邦楽] Japanese traditional music Ichi on jobutsu [一音成仏] Enlightenment from a single tone Ichinensei [一年生] First year student Iemoto [家元] Head of school, in a traditional system of master/discipleship Ii ko [いい子] ‘‘Good kid’’: well-behaved child(ren) Inkai [委員会] Committee; closed meeting Isshoukenmei [一生懸命] To devote all of oneself to something Itai [痛い] It hurts Jinta [ジンタ] Informal street bands, marching bands Jiyukyoku [自由曲] Free piece (music chosen freely for competition performance) Jougekankei [上下関係] System of hierarchical relationships based on seniority Juku [塾] A ‘‘cram school’’ for supplemental tutoring Kadaikyoku [課題曲] Required piece for band contest Kagura [神楽] Shinto ritual music Kayokyoku [歌謡曲] Popular music piece (band arrangement of pop song) Keigo [敬語] Formal language used with one’s superiors

Glossary

279

Kimochiwo shuchu [気持ちを集中する] ‘‘Focus feelings’’: to give one’s ultimate concentration Kochosensei [校長先生] School principal Kohai [後輩] Younger/junior Kokoro de hiku [心で弾く] ‘‘Play through the heart’’: to give an expressive performance Kokoro o hitotsu [心を一つ] ‘‘Make into one heart’’, or unite as one Konkuru [コンクール] [Band] Contest Kosei Uindo [佼成ウィンド] Abbreviation for Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra Kotekitai [鼓笛隊] Fife and drum ensemble Kotowaza [諺] Traditional Japanese proverb Kimigayo [君が代] The Japanese national anthem Kiritsu [規律・起立] ‘‘Discipline!’’: Call to stand at attention as Sensei enters class Kisoren [基礎練] ‘‘Basi-prac’’: fundamentals (e.g. scales, arpeggios) Kura [クラ] Clarinet (slang abbreviation) Kurashikku [クラシック] ‘‘Classical’’ art music Kuro [苦労] Suffering/pain Kyo-En [響宴] Poetic name of a Japanese organization promoting wind band composition, literally translated as ‘‘celebration of echoes’’ Kyoryoku [協力] Cooperation Kyousou [競争] Competition Mane suru [真似する] To imitate (e.g. teacher behavior, recorded sound, etc.) Manga [漫画] Japanese comic book Muragaru [群がる] To herd, or flock Matomatteru [まとまってる] Cohesion/cooperation Mo ichido [もう一度] Again, one more time Mushi suru [無視する] To intentionally ignore someone Nakama hazure [仲間はずれ] ‘‘Outside the center’’: ostracized, boycotted Ninensei [二年生] Second-year student Okashi [おかしい] Weird, strange, bizarre

280

Glossary

Onaka de fuku [お腹で吹く] ‘‘Blow through the stomach’’: to perform with energy Otsukare sama [お疲れ様] Thank you for giving your all/until exhausted Owari [終わり] Finish, end, conclusion Paato [パート] Instrumental section (e.g. flute players) Paatore [パートレ] Slang for sectional rehearsal: from ‘‘part’’ and ‘‘renshu’’ Petto [ペット] Trumpet (slang abbreviation) Poppusu suteeji [ポップスステージ] Popular music performance Rangaku [蘭学] Dutch studies, or studies of western knowledge Rappa [ラッパ] Trumpet, or bugle Rei [礼] Call to bow in unison toward Sensei (after ‘‘kiritsu’’ is called) Renshu [練習] To rehearse, practice Sempai [先輩] Elder/senior Sensei [先生] Teacher/master/maestro Seito [生徒] Pupil (term used primarily by teachers/administrators) Sannensei [三年生] Third year student Sousukan [総好かん] Boycotted, ostracized from a clique Suisogakubu [吹奏楽部] Wind band club Tatemae [建て前] Orderly image projected in the pubic sphere Tokuikutekina shido [徳育的な指導] Moral education Ukiyoe [浮世絵] Edo-period woodblock print artworks depicting daily life in Japan Warewo wasureru [我を忘れる] ‘‘Lose oneself in [music]’’: to rehearse into a trance Yubi [指] Finger, instrument fingerings Yubi de oboeru [指で覚える] ‘‘Remember by fingers’’: memorize via repetitive drilling Yufo [ユーフォ] Euphonium (slang abbreviation) Zokugo [俗語] Slang terminology, lingo

Name Index

A Abdoo, F. B., 8 Abe, I., 65 Abe, K., 273 Abe, T., 273 Adachi, T., 133, 156–157, 168 Adal, R., 65–66, 225, 248 Adderley, C., 179 Akiyama, T., 26, 41, 67, 160, 273 Alexander, L., 182, 189, 256 Allen, W. D., 151 Allison, A., 233, 236 Allsup, R. E., 68, 270 Almeida, L. de, 18, 61 Amano, M., 42, 160, 162–167, 169, 273 Aoyagi, H., 232, 236 Arnold, M., 159–160 Asakawa, M., 45, 62–63 Aspinall, R., 47, 64, 68, 248 Atkins, E. T., 36, 66, 93 Austin, J. R., 152, 189, 256

B Baethge, W., 53, 70, 72 Bakan, M. B., 93 Bandou, R., 8, 47, 131 Barber, C. F., 115, 122, 189 Barnard, C., 247 Barnes, J., 159–160 Barry, N. H., 270 Bartok, B., 159–160 Baumann, S., 212, 214 Beauchamp, E. R., 65 Ben-Ari, E., 248 Benedict, C., 68 Bergh, Van de, 21 Bergman, C., 248 Bergsma, T., 19, 26

Bersma, R. P., 45, 62 Berz, W., 178 Bestor, T. C., 105–106 Birnbaum, M., 247 Blum, S., 168–169 Bohlman, P. V., 152 Bowman, W., 49, 69 Boxer, C. R., 45, 61 Breen, J., 45, 61, 63 Bresler, L., 85, 93–94, 224, 275 Burdett, N. D., 150, 152–153, 204, 213 Burke, P. J., 236 Burland, K., 235 Burnsed, V., 152 Burt, P., 64–65

C Caimi, J. F., 178–179 Calhoun, C., 60, 72 Campbell, P. S., 92–93, 121, 218, 225, 235, 255–256, 275 Caron, F., 19 Cave, P., 47, 64, 68, 89, 93, 179, 248, 265 Ceausescu, N., 149 Cesarini, F., 160 Chance, J. B., 41 Chomsky, N., 70 Chou, I., 149, 152 Chua, A., 70 Coelho, V. A., 62 Coffman, D. D., 254, 256, 270 Cohen, R. S., 152, 193, 200 Colwell, R. J., 8, 122, 255 Conway, C., 179 Cook, K., 8 Cook, Van de, 21 Cornwallis, K., 17, 61 Cramer, R. E., 8, 166

281

282 Creech, A., 269 Cresswell, T., 69 Crosnoe, R., 225 Cutts, R. L., 200

D Dairoku, K., 37, 66 Daughtry, J. M., 248 Davidson, J. W., 190, 235, 256 Davies, H., 213–214 Davies, S., 69, 213–214, 251, 255 Debussy, C., 162 DeCoker, G., 179 Dittrich, R., 39 Doeff, H., 19 Donahue, R. T., 169 Dorow, L. G., 182, 189, 256 Downey, D. B., 236 Drummond, J., 269 Duke, B., 222, 225 Duke, R. A., 122, 256 Dweck, C. S., 185, 190

E Ebisawa, A., 45, 62, 213 Ebisawa, B., 213 Eckert, F., 14, 29–30, 35, 39, 52–54, 58, 64, 70, 72 Edwards, R. H., 255 Ehrlich, C., 214 Eppstein, U., 45, 62–63, 65, 70, 94, 179 Eulenburg, C., 22, 63 Everett, Y. U., 8, 93 Ewbank, A. J., 69

F Faulds, H., 30, 65 Faulkner, R. R., 188, 190, 256 Fennell, F., 41–42, 211, 274 Fenton, J. W., 14, 26–30, 39, 46–47, 52–54, 57–59, 63–64, 70, 72 Fernandez, J. W., 219, 225 Finn, D., 46, 65 Finney, P., 61 Flaes, R. B., 28, 64 Folkestad, G., 240, 247 Frederic, L., 15, 45, 61 French, H. W., 247 Frith, S., 236 Fritsch, I., 66

Name Index Frois, L., 18 Fruhstuck, S., 248 Fujii, T., 45, 63 Fukuda, Y., 62, 167 Fukunaka, F., 66 Fukushima, H., 167 Fukuyama, M., 236 Fukuzawa, R. E., 89, 93–94, 173, 179, 185, 190 Furuya, H., 28

G Gagne, R. M., 121 Galliano, L., 22, 32, 46, 60, 62–66, 70–71 Gardner, H. E., 122 Garrett, J. U., 67 Gavin, M., 65 Gaye, M., 233 Gee, J. P., 235 Gill, R. D., 18, 62 Giurchescu, A., 152 Gjerde, P. F., 235 Gladwell, M., 169, 236 Glazunov, A., 159–160 Glejser, H., 153 Gonzalez, N., 93 Good, E. M., 213–214 Goodrich, A., 256 Gordon, A., 225 Gordon, E., 122, 225 Goto, Y., 167 Gottschewski, H., 52–53, 60, 70, 269 Gottschewski, M., 269 Gould, M., 159–160 Green, L., 236 Groemer, G., 65, 69–70, 111, 121, 169, 248, 275 Groulx, T. J., 60 Gunderson, F., 147, 151 Gutzwiller, A., 112, 121

H Hahn, T., 224 Hall, F., 125–128, 131, 135–136, 144, 147, 166, 200, 210–211, 220, 233, 236 Hall, S., 236, 259, 269 Hallam, S., 256, 269 Halliwell, P., 112–113, 122 Hamamoto, N., 68 Hammer, C., 71 Hancock, H., 43

Name Index Hansen, R. K., 8 Hara, H., 157 Hara, T., 46 Hargreaves, D. J., 9, 92, 179, 236, 240, 247 Harich-Schneider, E., 60 Hash, P. M., 66 Haske, De, 59 Hayasaka, F., 39 Healey, G., 46 Heath, S. B., 268, 270 Hebert, D. G., 8–9, 46–47, 60–62, 66–67, 69–70, 72, 93, 122, 131, 141, 168–169, 200, 214, 225, 235, 248, 255–256, 269–270, 276 Heifetz, R. J., 17, 61, 65 Heikinheimo, T., 225 Heimonen, M., 70, 256 Heller, G. N., 60 Henninger, J. C., 122 Herbert, T., 72 Herd, J. A., 62 Hess, N., 159 Heyndels, B., 153 Hill, W., 159, 239 Hindemith, P., 41 Hiramatsu, H., 66 Hiyama, R., 22, 45, 63, 72, 205, 213–214 Hoffman, D. M., 227, 235 Holst, G., 41 Holz, E. A., 66 Hongo, J., 248 Horiuchi, K., 35, 65 Hoshina, H., 9, 42, 162–165, 169, 200, 273 Hoskin, B., 69 Hosler, M., 152–153 Hosokawa, S., 21, 30, 34–36, 46, 48, 55–56, 60, 63, 65–66, 68, 71, 214, 273 Howard, V. A., 122, 186, 190 Howe, C., 29, 47, 69 Howe, S. W., 65, 70 Hozumi, T., 35 Hughes, D. W., 60 Humphreys, J. T., 8, 66, 69, 122, 269, 275 Humphreys, M., 8 Hunsberger, D., 183 Hunter, J., 45, 63 Hurst, C. W., 152

I Ibert, J., 159 Ienaga, S., 241 Ifukube, A., 39 Iggers, G. G., 61

283 Iida, M., 46 Iijima, T., 167–168 Imada, T., 48–52, 54, 69–71 Inoue, K., 65, 236 Isawa, S., 14, 31–32, 40, 46, 50, 52–55, 58, 65, 70–71, 176, 243 Ishimoto, K., 8, 47, 131, 214 Isoda, M., 68, 70 Itasaka, G., 71 Ito, Y., 9, 42, 62, 155, 162–169, 200, 273 Iwasaki, K., 269 Iwawa, N., 179

J Jansen, M. B., 45, 62, 70 Jenkins, N., 8 Jobim, A. C., 161 Johnson, H., 9, 68, 247–249, 259–260, 269, 275 Johnson, M. L., 219–220, 224–225 Johnson, R., 68 Jones, P., 68 Jorgensen, E. R., 218, 224–225, 269

K Kachaturian, A., 159–160 Kaempfer, E., 16, 61 Kahn, J., 47, 68 Kajo, N., 66 Kakehashi, I., 208–209, 214 Kamiya, S., 64 Kaplan, P. R., 182, 189 Kaplinsky, R., 214–215 Karlsen, S., 269 Kasahara, K., 45, 62 Kasaya, K., 196, 201 Kashiwagi, H., 233, 236–237 Kato, M., 64 Kawaguchi, M., 92 Kawai, H., 209 Kawai, K., 209 Kawai, S., 209 Kawakami, G., 47, 149, 152, 205–208, 214 Kawanari, Y., 200, 214 Kaye, S. T., 71 Keil, C., 270, 275 Kelly, S. N., 67, 72 Kendall, N., 86, 93 Kennedy, M., 178 Kertz-Welzel, A., 256 Kiester, G. J., 190, 200

284 Kikkawa, C., 65 Kimura, N., 69 Kingsbury, H. A., 93 Kinney, C. J., 89, 93 Kitayama, A., 52, 68, 70, 176, 179, 190 Kitayama, S., 179, 190 Kiyoshiro, I., 245 Kluger, J., 47, 68 Kobayashi, T., 46, 64, 213 Koda, N., 29–30, 65 Kodaly, Z., 160 Koh, C. S., 157, 168 Kohn, A., 137, 141, 150–151, 153 Koide, M., 67–68, 106 Koizumi, K., 236 Komiya, T., 55, 71 Koopman, C., 251, 255 Kraus, R. C., 33, 65 Krushinsky, A., 151 Kudo, T., 28, 64 Kume, K., 46, 64 Kuropatkin, A. N., 34 Kurosawa, A., 40 Kushida, T., 159, 162, 164–165, 168–169, 273 Kuwahara, K., 45 Kuwayama, T., 221, 225

L Lakoff, G., 219–220, 224–225 Lamont, A., 176, 179 Lang, L., 43 Latham, A., 151 Lau, F., 8, 93 LeBlanc, A., 255 Lebra, T. S., 64, 243, 248, 260, 269 Lee, A. H., 69–70, 248 Lee, H. C., 69 Lepherd, L., 85, 93 Leroux, C., 30 LeTendre, G. K., 9, 37, 47, 66, 94, 122, 177–179, 190, 247 Levinson, B., 93 Lewis, C., 222, 225 Luhmer, K., 176, 179

M MacDonald, R. A. R., 9, 236, 247 Maehara, Y., 45, 62–63 Magnus, A., 33, 45, 62, 65 Makiguchi, T., 206, 214

Name Index Malina, M., 61 Malm, W. P., 112, 121–122 Mamiya, M., 40 Manabe, N., 53, 70 Manes, S. I., 70 Mans, M., 247, 260, 269 Markus, H. R., 179, 190 Marshall, N. A., 179 Marutani, A., 199–200 Mashima, T., 42, 47, 162–166, 169 Mashino, S., 69 Mason, L. W., 14, 30–32, 40, 46, 50, 52, 54, 58, 70–71, 243 Massenet, J., 159 Mathews, G., 165, 169 Matsuki, T., 167 Matsunobu, K., 47, 64, 66, 68, 121–122, 169, 215, 248, 275 Matsushita, I., 15, 42, 61, 162–165, 273 May, E., 65 May, W. V., 122 Maynard, M. L., 178 Mayuzumi, T., 39–40 McCarthy, M., 92–93, 217, 224, 255 McConnell, D., 241, 247 McDonald, R., 42, 67, 214 McKinley, J. C., 247 McLaughlin, M. W., 268, 270 McLelland, M., 93 McPherson, G. E., 122, 178, 256 McVeigh, B. J., 200 Mehl, M., 8, 47 Meij, J. de, 59 Melillo, S., 159 Miell, D. E., 9, 236, 247 Miller, L., 190 Miller, R. C., 31–32, 54, 65, 70 Miller, R. E., 152–153 Minamino, H., 62 Miranda, M. L., 214 Mitsui, T., 46, 67 Mitsumori, H., 94, 269 Miyamoto, K., 236 Miyamoto, M., 225 Miyamoto, Y., 173, 179, 208, 214, 236 Miyazawa, K., 167 Miyoshi, A., 165 Miyoshi, T., 51, 70 Montanus, A., 16, 45, 61 Montemayor, M., 122 Moody, W. J., 152 Moore, J. E., 66 Moorhouse, L., 166

Name Index Moroi, S., 46, 51 Morrison, S. J., 121–122, 275 Muller, G., 247 Mu¨nzel, S. C., 61

N Nagai, S., 29, 65 Nakahashi, Y., 167–168 Nakamura, K., 46, 63, 71 Nakamura, R., 45–46, 55, 60, 63, 71 Nakanowatari, K., 44, 68–69, 273 Nakao, H., 68, 249 Nakatani., 43 Nakayama, F., 64, 66, 71 Negus, K., 227, 236 Neidig, K. L., 153, 156, 168, 189 Neill, S., 122 Nelson, D. J., 122 Nettl, B., 12, 60, 69, 93, 275 Nicholas, J. C., 61 Ninomiya, K., 65 Nishizaka, T., 69 Nitobe, I., 46, 64–65 Niwano, N., 127, 131, 211 North, A. C., 92, 179

O Obata, Y., 26, 28, 37, 40, 46–47, 56, 63–67, 70–71 Odello, D., 152 Ogawa, M., 32, 46, 65, 70, 92, 94, 200, 275 Ohnuki-Tierney, E., 61 Okada, H., 157 Okano, K., 236 Oku, S., 92, 94 Okunaka, Y., 24, 46, 63 Olsen, R., 214 Omori, S., 62 Onishi, M., 235 Organtino, A., 18, 26 Ortner, S. B., 9, 93, 235, 237 Osanai, T., 209 Otori, R., 62 Ouishi, K., 41, 66–67 Owens, T. J., 236

P Papageorgiou, F. T., 69 Parncutt, R., 122 Pecore, J. T., 94

285 Perry, M. C., 14, 21, 45 Phoasavadi, P., 151 Pier, D. G., 151 Pinto, F. M., 17–18 Pipher, M., 186, 190 Polk, K., 70 Ponick, F. S., 150, 152–153 Pope, E. W., 22, 46, 62–63 Posthuma, A., 214–215 Powell, K., 224 Price, H. E., 122, 232, 236 Pringsheim, K., 39 Printz, W. C., 146 Psalmanazar, G., 15–17, 45, 61 Puccini, G., 159–160 Putnam, R. D., 268, 270

R Ravel, M., 160, 233 Raykoff, I., 152 Reed, A., 41, 159–160 Reed, E. J., 63, 160 Reid, G., 214 Reimer, B., 269 Renwick, J., 256 Respighi, O., 159–160 Reynish, T., 8 Reynolds, H. R., 189 Rice, T., 9, 93, 236, 256 Richards, E. M., 47 Richardson, C., 8, 122 Robinson, D. T., 236 Rodriguez, C., 270 Roesgaard, M. H., 64, 70, 106, 201 Rohlen, T. P., 93, 122, 178, 190 Roost, Jan Van der., 59 Rostropovich, M., 206 Ruthmann, A., 256, 270

S Saeki, S., 45, 62, 72 Safier, J., 151 Saiki, K., 65 Saito, H., 169, 179 Saito, N. E., 179, 225 Saito, Y., 214 Sakai, I., 18, 167 Sakai, T., 167 Salzman, T., 8, 275 Sasai, H., 269 Sasaki, N., 32

286 Sato, H., 94, 236 Sawano, Y., 269 Saxonhouse, G., 47 Schmidt, P., 62 Sheldon, D. A., 94, 152, 232, 236 Shelemay, K. K., 60 Shepherd, G., 248 Shiba, S., 53 Shimahara, N. K., 224 Shimizu, H., 225, 235 Shinzanno, M., 67, 69, 106 Shiotsu, Y., 55, 64, 71 Shirodayu, T., 20 Shive, C., 22, 45, 63 Shostakovich, D., 163–164 Shuji, I., 14, 31, 46, 50, 52, 176, 243 Siebold, P. F. von, 20 Sinatra, F., 161 Singleton, J., 201, 248 Sloboda, J., 190 Small, C., 225, 269–270 Smith-Lovin, L., 236 Sochinski, J., 152 Southcott, J., 69–70, 248 Sparke, P., 159 Spencer, P., 151 Stake, R. E., 85, 93 Starrs, R., 68, 247–248 Stauffer, S. L., 182, 189 Staunton, G., 33, 65 Stephens, C. S., 68, 169, 248 Stern, R., 47 Stets, J. E., 236 Stevens, R. S., 69 Stiglitz, J., 47, 70 Stock, J. P. J., 60, 190 Stokes, M., 49, 69, 93, 236 Strauss, R., 159–160 Sugamo, 90 Sugawa, N., 166 Sugihara, M., 46, 66 Sugimoto, K., 167 Sugimoto, Y., 64, 70, 106, 167 Sunaga, K., 38, 66 Suppan, W., 53, 70, 72 Suzuki, H., 66, 71, 169, 203 Suzuki, S., 30, 47

T Takahagi, Y., 92, 94, 204, 213 Takahashi, M., 61 Takahashi, S., 168

Name Index Takashima, A., 20 Takazawa, T., 60 Takemitsu, T., 47, 165, 214 Takeshi, K., 8, 46, 52, 70, 275 Takeuchi, Y., 45, 62, 67 Takizawa, T., 70 Tanabe, H., 38, 66 Tanaka, K., 35, 46, 69, 72, 169, 203, 213, 215 Tanimura, M., 46, 65, 69 Tanosaki, K., 47 Tarr, E. H., 213 Tatebe, T., 167 Tatsuta, Y., 269 Taylor, J. A., 69, 93, 270 Taylor, T. D., 93 Tchaikovsky, P. I., 133, 159–160 Teeuwen, M., 45, 61 Tindall, B., 236 Tobe, R., 63 Tobin, R. D., 152 Togashi, T., 8, 47, 131 Tokita, A. M., 60 Tokumaru, Y., 94 Tommasini, A., 68 Tomoda, T., 69 Tomosha, O., 40, 47, 59 Touya, M., 60 Toyama, Y., 37, 39–40 Trimillos, R. D., 112, 121–122 Tsuchihashi, M., 236 Tsuchiya, M., 236 Tsuda, U., 29 Tsujii, N., 43, 47 Tsukada, Y., 69 Tsukahara, Y., 8, 37, 39, 45–46, 56, 60–61, 63, 65–66, 71 Tsunenaga, H., 62 Tsuruma, K., 236 Tsutsumi, M., 66, 152 Tsuzuki, C., 46 Tucker, A., 61 Tudge, J., 221, 225 Turino, T., 93 Turnbull, S., 45, 62

V Valignano, A., 16, 18, 26, 45 Vallo, V., 179 Vaubel, R., 152 Vispoel, W. P., 189 Vogt Yuan, A. S., 236 Vygotsky, L. S., 182, 189, 217–218

Name Index W Wade, B., 8, 60, 62, 65, 275 Wakin, D. J., 47, 68 Walls, K. C., 270 Walser, R., 224 Watanabe, T., 159 Weber, A. L., 161 Webster, P., 255 Wenger, E., 200, 217–218, 225 West, S., 62 Whelan, B., 159 Whelan, C., 45, 62 White, M., 89, 93, 190, 269 Whiting, J. W. M., 236 Whitwell, J., 150, 153 Wilds, A., 173, 179, 190, 200 Williamson, J. E., 153, 189 Willson, T., 8, 200 Wilson, B. D., 60 Wiltshire, E. S., 122 Wink, J., 189–190 Wohl, M. A., 8 Wright, R., 270

X Xavier, F., 18, 45

287 Y Yagi, S., 40, 68 Yamada, J., 248 Yamada, K., 248 Yamada, Y., 70 Yamagiwa, J. K., 61 Yamaha, T., 204 Yamamoto, M., 40 Yamamoto, T., 64 Yang, M., 8 Yano, C. R., 141, 190, 249 Yano, K., 40 Yasuda, H., 54, 65, 70–71 Yellin, V. F., 20, 45, 62 Yoder, P. V., 40, 67 Yoneyama, S., 248 Yoshida, H., 152 Yoshihara, M., 40, 67 Yoshiisa, O., 53 Yoshino, K., 247, 249 Yoshinobu, T., 22

Z Zealear, L., 57–58, 72 Zeng, K., 247