Thoughts on the Art of Taiko

Tsunehisa Takahashi

My cue to become a taiko artist came on New Year,s Eve of 1988 when I saw the Shumei Taiko Ensemble perform at the "Fire Ceremony" at Misono. I will never forget the impression that the Ensemble made on me. As I watched the drummers and drums glistening in the soft torch light and listened to the taiko's thunder, I felt God descending onto the surrounding mountains. I will never deny that moment. It stuck to my heart and became part of me.

A year later, I became a taiko student. Two years after that, I came to live at Misono. I found God in taiko music and decided to follow my faith. However, I did not come to Misono to play taiko. I came to do hoshi. Through hoshi, I learned to live life with a humble attitude. I experienced much and held many jobs at Misono, but each time I moved from one position to another, I felt my heart being pulled toward taiko. Finally, I realized that my heart's desire was to go to the root experience that connected me to the Divine. So, I asked to study taiko and a half-year later I became a member of the Ensemble.

The strongest emotion I have when performing taiko is a deep feeling for people --especially when outside Japan, when crowds loudly applaud and little kids rush up to us after a concert, I feel particularly connected to people. In an instant, taiko can shrink the gap between people of different countries and cultures. I feel that in the end, our responsibility as members of the Ensemble is to advance peace between peoples. I feel this without any doubt. The sound of taiko can communicate the message of concord between people much faster than speaking a common language. Our taiko sound is not so much a performance as drums beating out a message of world peace.

I am not a great person, but I know that sincerity is much more important than greatness. It is more important than either skill or ability. Expressing what is inside you, that is what sincerity is. We express sincerity for God and for the people in our audience.

When I look at the older members of our Ensemble, I sense a straight line between them and God. When they play, they play for an invisible audience. They play for God. They play to bring Him down to the place where they are. Even now, the mature artists in our group present a challenge. I cannot catch up with their thoughts, their instantaneous thoughts, the inspiration they possess. Even if one eventually matches their skill, if one does not have their spirit, one never can reach their level.

On stage, I am nervous only when I think about myself. One needs to forget about oneself. It is not about you. What one needs is to play for God, who is always there in the background. Just play with all your energy. It is important to forget about being good-looking.

For me, the most extraordinary performance that we gave took place in the Cathedral Church of St. John the Divine in New York City, which is the biggest cathedral in the United States of America. We were invited by the very [?] Reverand James Parks Morton to play in the empty cathedral. No one was in the place except a group of children who just happened to be there. We were playing in an empty church for the invisible God. This historic structure was filled with the reverberations of our drums. It was a heartfelt moment. I fancied that the mighty cathedral's walls might tumble under our thunder! Through our playing, I felt a connection being made between the East and the West. I think that performance took place because our mission is an offering of our art to God. Later during that tour, we gave the same performance at the United Nations Headquarters in New York City.

On a later tour, we played in a township in South Africa. When we first arrived, the townspeople looked at us as if to say, "What are they?" Who are these strange-looking people with their strange-colored skin and their strange instruments? But after we played, both grownups and kids rushed the stage to embrace us. I cannot imagine how long it would have taken to communicate what comes from the heart to people of vastly different communities without taiko.

Though I have a long way to go as an artist, besides refining my technique, it will always be important for me to express and share that feeling I had when I first heard taiko so many years ago at Misono.