Photographs from a small group of islands
Japanese festivals are many things: Invariably they are visually stunning. Now and again they are only held at night. And on rare occasions they are even a bit rude. But far and away the most important thing is that they are fun.
An element that the expression on this young girl’s face encapsulates way better than any words I could ever wish to put together.
October may well be just around the corner, but the summer-like temperatures have made September a stifling one to say the least — the heat and humidity simply don’t want to say sayonara.
Conditions that a parasol and that summer favourite, cold soba,
can’t even counter.
When Typhoon Roke — or plain old No. 15 as it’s also known — indifferently passed through Tokyo yesterday, there was no denying it brought some wet and especially windy conditions. And yet despite the howling and the horizontal rain, it was hard to appreciate just how strong a force it was. Or at least it was from the comforting shelter of an apartment complex.
However, having seen the staggering amount of debris scattered over the streets this morning, it’s clear that the winds Roke brought were very strong indeed. So powerful in fact that trees were uprooted all over the capital.
And old men, much to their dismay, were even forced to curtail their constitutional bike ride.
Japan is already a nation of old people, really old in many cases, as the number of centenarians is set to hit a record high of over 47,000 this year. A rapid greying of the country that will not only change Japanese society as a whole, but have a hugely detrimental effect on the economy. And yet if all the nation’s old people are even half as lovely as this elderly lady,
then whatever happens, it’ll still be an equally lovely place to live.
In Tokyo it’s always possible to see huge pop stars playing in equally massive surroundings, or well known artists doing good-sized gigs — all of whom are here to promote material that can be bought on iTunes, or found on a torrent site for free.
Yet equally thriving, albeit on a far smaller scale, is the city’s underground scene. It’s just hard to know it’s there that’s all, and even if you do, it’s not always easy to find out about venues and events.
Nights out like this one — held in a nondescript building that in normal circumstances would have been passed by unnoticed.
But three floors down, in a space that’s primarily a workshop, it was a world that shifted from distorted beats by a DJ.
To some almost excruciating sounds from a far more appealing piece of kit.
Plus tunes hammered out on an oil drum.
Or even more brutally forced from an angle grinder.
Along with other performers whose output was in many ways as disturbing as their appearance.
And yet it was all capped off with a semi-conventional ‘group’ that, considering what had gone before them, could almost have been described as pop.
(A.E.S)