The Indiscreet Cat was originally a jazz bar, but when jazz bars had started to become too common, business fell off. So instead they had taken a “long tail” approach, booking bands of just about any genre, especially groups who couldn't seem to get gigs anywhere else, because their style was too hard to define. This earned the club a reputation as a launching pad for some of the town's more eclectic music acts. The lay-out was simple enough – a bar area near the entrance, and further back, a larger seating area, with some space cleared in front of a black curtain hanging on the wall, flanked by PA speakers. When Aya arrived, the after-work crowd was just beginning to trickle in. The manager, who was also the owner, was happy to talk her about the bar and its reputation for attracting unusual acts.
“In fact,” he added, “You're in for a treat tonight. The band scheduled to perform is a local favorite. Perhaps you've heard of them – The Heavenly Dogs?”
Aya took a sip of her sake. She and the manager were seated a table near the bar area. She shook her head. “I honestly haven't, I'm sorry. But I look forward to hearing them.”
Aya hadn't expected to spend a very long time at the club, but the band wasn't slated to begin performing before nine. Not bothered, Aya ordered a larger bottle of sake, opened her Bunkachou, and began to take notes on modern human behavior.
In the centuries that Aya'd been alive, she'd seen humans make incredible progress for themselves, while their mentality and mannerisms remained largely the same. Something had happened in the past century, however, that made modern humans change noticeably.
For one, despite their courtesies towards one another, they seemed on the whole to be detached from one another, as if everyone had a great cache of secrets that no one else could know about. When she watched people at the office, and at this club, talking to each other, it was as if they were speaking from a thousand miles apart – or rather, that they were each talking to a mirror. For another, it seemed as though no one really paid attention to what was happening around them. One day on her way to work, she'd watched as a woman a few paces in front of her accidentally tripped when the heel of her shoe broke. She fell to the sidewalk, but everyone around her just kept walking, and no one stopped or so much as looked at them even as Aya helped the woman to her feet. People just stepped around them, continuing in their directions, unwilling or unable to acknowledge what had happened.
It struck her as remarkably callous behavior, but as the days went on, she saw that it was also a part of a modern human's stunted perceptions. For example, a group of people standing at the bus stop might be unaware that a gorgeous rainbow had arched over the buildings right across the street from them, even though it was in plain view of everyone. Something had happened to humans, she decided, that made them willfully ignore the world around them, and each other. What that something was would be crucial to her story on the outside world.
The club gradually filled with people. Before long, the musicians had arrived. She watched as they set up. They were all young, in their early 20s, she guessed, comprised of four men and one woman. One of them – a tall, thin young man with sad eyes - had a laptop, which he'd opened on a bar stool and plugged into a speaker he brought. Two other guys - who looked similar enough to be brothers - set up a series of large drums. Another had an electric guitar. He was about Aya's height, his face unshaven for a few days, hair long enough to fall frequently into his eyes. While he, like the other three men, wore a T-shirt and jeans, the guitarist wore also a black leather jacket. Aya thought he must be quite warm, and indeed, there was already sweat on his forehead. The young woman, though, despite wearing a black hoodie, jeans, and beat-up sneakers, Aya found very beautiful. Not so much for her physical appearance – although being taller than the men in the band, she did stand out – but rather for the confidence she projected from her expression, her stance. Aya was already intrigued.
The young woman adjusted the height of the microphone stand. Aya followed with rapt attention. The singer smiled at the crowd, who cheered enthusiastically. “Thank you. We're the Heavenly Dogs,” said the singer.
The song began with the two brothers beating on the drums with their hands; a steady, driving rhythm. But then some odd sounds that Aya had never heard before seemed to emerge out of nowhere. There were low, booming tones that matched the rhythm of the drums, but also some stranger tones that Aya couldn't quite identify – some were high and staccato, others were subtler, like wind blowing in the background. It took her some time to gauge, by the faces in the crowd watching him and the movements he was making, that the guy with the laptop was producing all these sounds.
The singer began to sing – a voice that matched the power of her poise. She sang with joy on her face, her eyes closed, her body moving to the rhythm, swaying side to side. Others in the club began dancing more energetically. And then, the guitarist began to play.
Aya was dumbstruck. He wasn't using some nearly-magical device to produce sounds – just strings stretched over a shape, like a koto – but from it he produced a melody of heartbreaking beauty. Notes spun and rose like crows riding a column of warm air. Their harmonies pushed on the edges of a bittersweet tension, and as he slowly wound up the intensity, Aya could feel goosebumps rising on the nape of her neck. And yet despite all this, he played with a relaxed, almost serene pose, in total mastery of the melody in his hands.
As they played, the music and the dancing got more intense. At one point, Aya had to stand up on her chair just to see the band. She got some good photos this way. The more energy the music had, and the more the crowd grew more ecstatic, the more she found herself enjoying this strange music, too. It took a while to get used to how loud it was, but once that happened, Aya was able to discern melody from noise quite easily. The musicians themselves had an almost innocent charm in the joy with which they played their songs, like children, or fairies. The tengu decided she'd interview the guitarist first, and then the singer.
As the show concluded, the crowd seemed unwilling to let the band go, and managed to encourage two more songs out of them before relenting. As people began to move away from the band, and the band began to pack things up, Aya approached the guitarist. Seeing her approaching, camera and dictaphone in hand, he smiled.
“Hey there,” he said. “Saw you standing on a table taking photos. You a reporter then?”
Aya smiled, and bowed politely. “I am. Aya Syameimaru, reporter for the Mercury. I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions.”
“Koji Takitana. And sure, I'll answer your questions.”
“Alright. Well, first-”
“But I get to ask you questions, too. A question for a question. Sound fair?”
Aya paused, and regarding Koji's steady, unwavering smile. “That's an unusual request.”
“Well, what can I say? I like to know who I'm talking to. You seem nice enough.”
“I try. So, um, what was the name of that first song you played?”
“Ah ah. I'm first. Remember? A question for a question.”
“Oh. Of course.”
Koji thought it over a moment. “You're not from around here, are you?”
“No, I'm not. So then – the first song?”
Koji laughed. “Evasive, are we?”
“You just need to know how to ask questions.” Aya smiled. “Like, 'I'm guessing you're not from around here – where are you from?', for example.”
“I guess that's why you're the journalist, and I just play guitar. Alright, it's called Skybreaker.”
“Interesting title. I have to admit, I've never heard any music quite like it.”
Koji nodded. “So you hated it, in other words.”
Aya was surprised, but Koji's smile was relaxed. Was this a joke? “What? No, I liked it a lot, actually.”
“Alright.” Koji accepted. Putting his guitar in a kit bag while his bandmates similarly packed up, he asked, “So where are you from then?”
“Hanam, it's a small place just outside of Seoul. I've been living in Japan for a few years now.”
“Eh? Really?” Koji sounded impressed. “You have no accent whatsoever. That's pretty amazing.”
“Thank you.” Aya cleared her throat. “Why do you play music?”
Koji rolled up the cables for his guitar and amps. “As opposed to?”
“Well, anything else, I suppose. What makes you want to play music?”
Koji paused and considered it a moment. “You know, I have no idea. I just have to. It's just my nature, I guess. It's a big part of the things I need to stay alive.”
The singer walked over then. “Hello,” she said to Aya. “Are you reviewing us?”
“Ah, well, not entirely,” Aya admitted. “I was sent to review this club. But since you were playing here, you'll be part of the article, though.”
“Ah, I see.” The singer nodded. “I'm Hitomi.” She looked at Koji, then back at Aya. “Is he explaining to you why his guitar was out of tune for the second half of the set?”
Aya was embarrassed for Koji, but he laughed it off. “Well, maybe I'd be able to hear it better if your monitor wasn't so loud.”
The two laughed then. “Actually, Koji told me the first song you played tonight was called Skybreaker,” Aya said to Hitomi.
“Did you like it?”
“I did, very much. I've never heard music that sounded like that. It was quite an experience.”
“Well,” Hitomi smiled broadly. “I'm pleased to-” She looked at Aya a moment, and then shook her head. “I'm sorry, you reminded me of someone for a moment. Don't worry, she was one of my best friends.”
“Ah, well, thank you.”
“She's Korean.” said Koji. “Only moved here a few years ago.”
“Is that right?” Hitomi asked. “And how long have you been in town?”
“Oh, just a few weeks now.”
“Ah, I see. Done much exploring?”
“No, actually.” As she thought of it, she realized she hadn't really been out that much, apart from going to work. She frowned a little at the fact.
Hitomi smiled at Aya. “Are you busy? Do you have to be anywhere?”
Aya shook her head.
“Well, why don't you come over to our place then?” Hitomi asked. “I can give you an exclusive.” She laughed. “Seriously, you've been in town a few weeks and still haven't seen anything? That needs to be taken care of.”
Aya didn't hesitate. A direct invitation to visit people in the outside world, right where they live? There was no question. “I wouldn't want to be too much trouble … but yes, I would.”
“Great.” Hitomi smiled. “Can you get the cables?”
No comments:
Post a Comment