Togi & Bao

“Togi!” Mina cried. “I love him. I have his CD. You are so lucky.” Just how lucky, I thought to myself? This no-name obviously meant more to my private student than it did to me. I hesitated at the commitment to see him live.

Chinese tourists I had met offered me their extra ticket to hear traditional Japanese and Chinese instruments. But for 2.5 hours? I flashed back to the painful Niijuku assembly. Ultimately, the free ticket and opportunity to hear an ancient musical art form convinced me to venture beyond Tokyo proper.

Hideki Togi is somewhat of a cult figure in these parts. About 70% of the audience was middle age to mature women. I was one of two males under 30, and the only Caucasian period. Togi moved the audience with lyrical vibrations from a hichiriki (photo, left). He is a master of gagaku, ancient Japanese Imperial Court music introduced from China and Korea around 1150 A.D. Bao, the six-piece Chinese new-trad ensemble, also shared the stage with large red pillars evoking a Chinese setting, but in Kanagawa Prefecture. Other odd instruments included the stringed biwa (photo, lower left) and wooden flute-like ryuteki.

Jazzy melodies lilted through the concert hall against a backtrack of synthetic beats and grooves. Modernity-infused classical court compositions. Kenny G meets the Silk Road. However you classify it, the up-tempo numbers were rather catchy.

Intermission ushered in transformation. The Shanghai Six, as I labeled “Bao,” swapped their tuxedos for Polo’s summer pastel shirt collection. Togi swaggered onto stage in bedazzled rubber pants and black cowboy boots. His white shirt sparkled from underneath a Harley Davidson jacket. Stage lights flashed. Golden hair spray shimmered. The illuminated background screen mutated ever-brighter colors. Front row fans rose from their seats and clapped along. Some waved homemade signs with shiny ribbons. Seven jesters on stage turned court traditions upside crown.

Togi commanded Papal inspiration. And like the Pope, only a select few were granted a private audience. A woman in her late 30s queued with us pass-holders. “Is this the handshaking line?” She herself was shaking at the prospect of a face-to-face encounter. Eyes wide, she twitched as if under the influence of a higher spirit. Although denied access, she took Togi away with her in the form of a concert CD.

Backstage, the Chinese tourists introduced me to their friends, two of the Shanghai Six (far right). Togi came over for a meet and greet. Since his English was passable, I didn’t break out my broken Japanese. And nor did I sneak off with his Harley jacket hanging nearby. When nobody was looking, I ran my fingers over the embroidery. Fingers sensed what the eyes saw, and flicked on the light bulb in my brain: Yahoo! Auctions Japan to cover next month’s rent.