Pros and cons of attempting to survive on maximum recommended dosage of Japanese cold medicine on a workday:

Pros: Finally answering the old nagging question of whether Vapnik–Chervonenkis dimension makes more sense on mushrooms (or any satisfyingly close approximation thereof).

Cons: The answer is: no, it definitely doesn’t.

Because Golden Week is no reason to slack off, this week program is centered around: 2 hours biking, 6 hours clubbing and 4 hours banging at a keyboard in some vague hope of finding a cancer cure by accident¹. Daily.

Day 2 (and counting) of that regimen and, beside symptoms of mild sleep deprivation, everything seems good.

1. hey! it worked for Fleming. I say it’s worth a shot. [↩]

You know you are at a Japanese free party when…

• … everybody is smiling, having a good time and randomly engaging in friendly conversations.
• … people you’ve never met spontaneously come up to you and offer you a beer (or a swig off whatever bottle of alcohol they are drinking from).
• … asking for a light gets you not only that, but also a brand new mini portable-ashtray as a gift (to you and surrounding Nature).
• … little kids and grandpas, dancing along with the rest of the hippie club kids, is the most natural sight in the world.
• … you are standing over the Kamogawa, surrounded by cherry blossoms, dancing to some of the funkiest, jazziest, house beats you’ve heard in a long while…

What a nice and unexpected way to cap a lovely hanami/easter picnic on a Sunday afternoon…

The end keeps nearing. Last weekend in Berlin. Feeling ever so slightly gloomy, for all sorts of reasons. Luckily I have the thought of warm Spring days ahead, plus many exciting plans for the months to come, to keep me from thinking about it too much. Also: it is about time that I resume working on that thing they call a PhD.

As usual, way behind in the note-keeping business, but a few random tidbits instead:

• Gotta love a city where catching an afternoon performance of Mahler’s Third by the Staatskapelle Berlin conducted by Daniel Barenboim (brilliantly filling in for James Levine), is as simple as: picking Nino fresh off her plane at Alexanderplatz, walking over to Staatsoper and buying three (very cheap) last minute-tickets.
• Used the excuse of miscellaneous out-of-town visitors to check a few of the more touristy items off my Berlin list.
• For an artist squat long past its underground heydays and part of even the most casual touristic tours of Berlin, Tacheles was still surprisingly fresh and unassuming: with some cool art, a relaxed atmosphere and a funky bar to grab a drink at in the middle of the night. You can also buy “Kultur kann man nicht kaufen” postcards for 1.30€ there.
• I apparently look very fetching in a tiara. A comforting thought, in case I finally quit research to pursue my lifelong dream of becoming a pretty princess.
• Only major piece left missing to our Berlin nightclub collection, Berghain was actually sort of a letdown: not bad, but definitely nowhere near what the legend gave it as. Perhaps just that particular night. Had fun anyway.
• Also caught Jazzanova (or a two people subset thereof) at Icon. Rather unimpressive DJing skills (at least before the 5th Vodka mit Red Bull), but some damn awesome blend of everything Latin, Jazzy and Danceable (from Calypso to Cumbia, with your fair share of random house beats in the middle). Funnily enough, threw the same Led Zep nod as Theo Parrish at Yellow, a couple years back: except they played Whole Lotta Love, not Kashmir…

Berlin, 7am.
I have more ink on my wrist than… a… erm…

Too soon?

It eventually happened.

It took a while, but I think I finally know how it feels to be the ancient one, sitting helplessly while the younger ones try to operate antiquated machinery from another era… say, a turntable.

Picture if you will: a standard Berlin bar, two cheerful yet terminally hopeless barmaids, a pair of standard-issue decks, a [presumably rather cheesy German] record to be played…

It went a little bit like this:

1. Barmaid places record on deck, tries to play it for 2 minutes before realising said deck has no needle (stylus or cartridge, for that matter).
2. Barmaid repeatedly tries to spot the beginning of some track she is presumably looking for, using a lighter for sole light source. Gets ever so slightly pissy when yours truly points [as gently as possible] toward the button to enable the dedicated target light that comes standard on all SL-1200.
3. Barmaid #2 [unsuccessfully] tries to fit a raw stylus into the standard needle connector, apparently oblivious to the obvious size/shape difference.
4. Barmaids have stroke of genius and finally decide to switch the entire deck with the other deck (changing cables and all), yet again failing to notice that simply switching the cartridge, would have been a considerably easier endeavour.
5. After finally plugging the new deck in, barmaids enter long struggle to figure the on/off dial on the new deck. Get increasingly pissy at any attempt to point them in the right direction… Finally give up in frustration and put a CD instead.

Seriously: now I know exactly how old-timers feel, when they see condescending-yet-clueless youngsters trying to operate a 1930s radio… and miserably failing at it, as if it was some alien technology.

Personal Health Update

I wasn’t exactly handed a winning ticket at the Genetic Lottery. As a kid, it would have taken less time to list the parts that did work as they should have. But things got under control and I am generally fine these days (beside that violent twitching on the left side of my face and the regular furball coughing, that is).

However, God personally hates me and wants to make sure I know it. Which is why I belong to the statistically improbable demographic of young people with recurring kidney stone problems despite relatively healthy dietary habits (people in their twenties who barely drink a can of coke a month aren’t supposed to get kidney stones, let alone chronic ones). On a nearly regular basis, about once every two years, I get to enjoy the pain of childbirth, minus naming process and postpartum hormones rush.

On the plus side, with the years, the routine has started to take the edge off (or I am developing a much higher tolerance to pain): when a stone episode strikes, nowadays, I just casually recoil in a fetal position for a couple hours at a time while waiting for it to pass; years ago: I would longingly stare at a kitchen knife while considering my options for self-surgery on the spot.

The other good thing is that I have learned to recognise early symptoms (as well as the time they are likely to occur: mine always happen in Winter, for no reason any specialist has ever been able to explain satisfyingly), which helps preventing me from making bad decisions… such as embarking on a 15 hour trip home to San Francisco from Paris via London (aka: the Story of my First Stone). Testament to the good old pre-911 days: when some security guy at Heathrow noticed the sweaty, grimacing guy waiting for his plane, went and asked “Sir, I must ask you: have you been consuming any drugs?” and got a near-hysterical answer of “No, but if you have any, I’ll take them!” through gritted teeth… he just walked away as he came.

These days, once the chest pain shows up, I would know better than trying to lob it with 2 aspirins and a cup of boiling hot tea purchased on the Eurostar for sole comfort.

Three days into the current episode, I finally went for a consultation at my nearby hospital: a CT scan confirmed the obvious and I was sent on my way with the usual advices and a couple prescription drugs.

Incidentally: I payed ¥5,000 (less than $50) for a full consultation and a CT scan, both of which took a grand total of 40 minutes, from the moment I stepped into my neighbourhood clinic. The actual cost, pre-universal-coverage, was ¥19,000, or about $200 (for that money, a US CT technician won’t even spit on you): dear US readers, aren’t you glad you live in a country gloriously free of such pesky Universal Healthcare and reasonable health costs.

Anyway, all that to say that I am slightly incapacitated at the moment, and lagging on communication (although oddly productive on whatever I manage to put my mind to, in between two bouts of holding my abdomen, wondering if downing a bottle of Draino might help). It will get better and I’ll catch up on email and everything, soon (i.e. anywhere from next week to next year).

That’s it for the immediate personal health update. Everybody with a normally working pair of kidneys and zero interest in the practice of hobbyist medicine at home can (and should) stop reading right now. Trust me, there’s nothing interesting under the fold.

(more…)

Note to Self of Two Weeks Ago: Great foresight on that massive batch of bolognese sauce in the freezer! Should consider storing more Saturday-morning emergency food around the house.

Note to Self of Yesterday Night: Maybe not so heavy on the distilled sweet potato juice, next time. Should consider picking a recreational heroin habit instead.

Yesterday night’s program included ample (and unexpected) display of full female topless nudity in a public place. For the second time in less than a week.

I must obviously be doing something right. (or very wrong, depending on which side of the ‘gratuitous boobage action’ moral debate you sit on).

When leaving the residence, this morning, I found a note in my mailbox.

Under a delightful MS-Word Clipart-esque depiction of what your mum’s 60′s medicine cabinet might have looked like, sat an ominous “Urgent Warning” about the evils of (illegal) drugs, in big bold red letters. Promising resident researchers somewhat decreased health and much decreased freedom of movement, should they choose to ignore said warning during their stay in Japan.

The thoughts going through my head were, in that order:

1. “What’s so ‘urgent’ about that warning? drugs are bad? Quick, somebody gets the message to Syd Barrett and Janis Joplin before it’s too late.”
2. “You mean there are drugs within a 300 mile radius from here?”
3. “Wait, what is this note doing in my mailbox. OH MY GOD THEY ARE ONTO ME!!!”
4. “No, seriously, where are the drugs? And how come nobody’s told me anything?”

Considering I woke up this morning, with a bright orange paper bracelet around my wrist and a nascent headache around my brain, I see only one plausible explanation: I was abducted and experimented on by aliens in a secret US military facility.

That or I had way too many free drinks yesterday.

Last Tuesday was my bday. And last Thursday was my bday party, spent partying with a few dozen friends, crammed into a tiny Golden Gai bar… In a word: Awesome.
After last year’s Magic Glasses, we opted for a Magic Party Hat this year:

Thanks to everybody who could make it and see you around soon!

Update: added some linky goodness to some of the pics H took that night.

Last weekend was メタモ 08, aka the Metamorphose Music Festival in Shizuoka: a comparatively low-key, 3-stages-1-night, affair with affordable ticket price (a fourth of Fuji Rock’s), featuring mostly electronic and/or non-mainstream acts.

Conditions this year were just short of apocalyptic, thanks to the nastiest weather of the entire Summer: rainy and cold… Fortunately, the real downpour held off until Sunday morning and we managed with only a couple light drizzle episodes through the night.

Anyway, I’ll spare you our own antiques and just post a couple thoughts on the different acts we got to hear:

1. Tony Allen opened the night with some kickass afrobeat on the main stage. He did quite alright, bringing up the generally dampen mood into party mode. Having spent countless hours of my youth looping Africa 70 tracks to exhaustion, this was probably one of my most feverishly awaited act of the night, and the only disappointment was that it didn’t have a better timeslot.

2. Since I’d already heard Jazztronic and DJ Krush a few times before, I used the chance to take a little rest at our “camp” and stock up some [mostly natural] energy for the night. Whatever I caught of Album Leaf in the distance (and later up close) provided a satisfyingly eery ambiant background for a relaxing time.

3. Fully rested and after walking around a bit, we came back to the main stage for Boom Boom Satellites, which was really the nice surprise of the evening: knowing nothing of them save for a couple tracks and videos H. showed me, I was expecting some slightly boring typical J-pop with some electro-rock accents… But apparently (and also according to H.), their style has evolved a great deal over the years and they played something much closer to full-on electronic music with rock instruments. Both the resulting hypnotically long tracks and the super-upbeat crowd made it one of the highlight of the night.

4. Theo Parrish was another act I was really looking forward to, seeing how his two last parties rocked my Summers…
And the disappointment was commensurate: his usual awesome blend of beats was made absolutely unbearable by some of the worst sound quality I have ever heard in my life (and I have heard a lot, trust me). Not only were the highs and mediums ear-piercingly loud, to the point of physical pain (we had to walk one full hill over before we could stand it), but they were also so distorted as to make the whole thing absolutely impossible to listen to.
I remember one of the first piece of advice I was ever given when I started pushing records in clubs, was to always take a minute off and walk around the place to see how the music sounds from the other side of the turntables (usually heaps less nice than what you hear from your spot). Of course, when you play some huge outdoor venue like that, you don’t need to worry about it: that’s what the sound guy is for. Except the sound guy that night was obviously sleeping. or deaf. or both.
Either way: after toughing it out for 20 minutes, we gave up in rage and went back to the other stages.

5. Back at the steamy indoor stage, we caught the end of a nice set by Fumiya Tanaka (seen a month ago at Womb) and then Josh Wink: pope of 90′s acid house and producer of one of the most infectious 303 track ever made… A solid and largely danceable set, albeit ostensibly geared at people in a much less sober state than I was (yea, no higher state of consciousness for me that night): could have used a teensy bit more melody and texture here and there to complement the raw pumping beats.
Also, I realise whining about this puts me into the annoying clueless fanboy category, but I was really hoping to hear some version of his signature track: I know he might have gotten sick of people expecting it every single time for the past 15 years, but there really aren’t many occasions to hear it in a live club these days.

6. Galaxy 2 Galaxy was another nice surprise (only today did I realise I had heard them before: many years ago at DNA lounge in SF): live instrumental, jazzy, funky house with some seriously good vibes… Would have probably been the high note of the trip with an uplifting warm sunrise instead of that gloomy morning weather drowned in drizzle and gray skys. Still enjoyable nonetheless.
Also they played the best dance track of all time, so there’s no way to go wrong with that.

7. I honestly felt bad for Cobblestone Jazz: they played some nice groovy stuff, but by then rain had started falling for real and we were all rather content sitting under the roof structure, huddled together in our makeshift camp, snacking on curry and planning a strategic exit.

Apparently, we left none too early, since, just a couple hours later, torrential rains forced all trains out of Shuzenji to a complete stop until Monday.

Overall, a great night and some awesome music: can’t wait to do it again next year, on a dry and warm Summer weekend.

We sure did our best to make up for yesterday’s disappointing cancellation of outdoorsy beach partying fun (for weather purposes. damn screwed-up rainy month of May. grrr).

• Saturday night thus got converted into food and drinks in Golden Gai, mad dancing at Yellow with H.
• Theo Parrish is still a music god.
• Worst excuse for last minute flaking, ever, courtesy of Fred and Natalie: “can’t make it. the dog ran out. we are waiting at home for her to come back” (so ok: the dog really ran out during her midnight walk… still, shouldn’t you at least make up an excuse that is believable?).
• Surprisingly fresh and early wake-up, lovely brunch under the sun.
• Took out my fancy (loaned) MTB for a first ride. Now realize how ridiculously clunky my mamachari was in comparison: that thing is made of thin air and climbing hills with it is actually fun.
• Also remembered why sometimes fixed-gear bikes are nice (and why having a plastic bag in your bag is a good idea for when your bike chain derails).
• Collected yet another piece of bleepy machinery.
• Stopped by Café U_U to say hi and check out Yuki’s opening (only one month left to check out her cool artworks, folks!).
• Met up with Justine at Canal Café: chilling in the sunset by the canal with the occasional Chuo-sen train flickering and sparkling in the background: that’s what Tokyo Summer is all about. Unfortunately, getting eaten by mosquitoes as soon as dusk hits: also.
• Stuffed ourselves on delicious Japanese soul-food at ろばたの炉: loads of veggies and mushrooms, incredibly smooth cream cheese tofu, katsuo tataki (seared on a mini-bonfire right there in front of us)… Oh yea: I also finally got my ocha-zuke.
• Capped the night with some lovely Yama Neko sweet potato shochuu to make me appreciate the fact that the road from Iidabashi back to my place is just one long straight line.

All names, situations, health hazards and general disregard for a sane and reasonable lifestyle depicted here are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to actual persons, living, dead or soon to be, is purely coincidental.

Kai: Mosh’mosh’!!!

Dave: Shin Nakano Suicide Hotline, what may I do for you?

Kai: Dave, I know it’s you.

Dave: Barely.

Kai: Where are you? get your ass over here.

Dave: Sorry: I’m sure it’s a great party, but I think I’m gonna pass on this. I badly need some rest.

Kai: Man. Get over here. NOW.

Dave: Really, I’m sorry… I would. But all I can think about is: my bed, some hot chocolate and a good movie.

Kai: Sakamoto Ryuichi is standing less than 3 feet away from me now.

Dave: …

Kai: Get fucking a-moving.

Dave: …

Dave: Do you know how much sleep I’ve had in the past 3 days? I currently look like what a 70 year-old crack whore raped by a meth-addicted raccoon might give birth to.

Kai: Sakamoto. Ryuichi.

Dave: Oh: and I finally succeeded at dislocating entirely both shoulders at the gym tonight. I can’t raise my arms above waist-level. I would need a 3-ft long straw to drink anything from a glass.

Kai: Sakamoto Fucking Ryuichi.

Dave: I am one hour of sleeplessness away from paranoid dementia. Random acts of senseless violence cannot be too long to follow.

Kai: Sa. ka. mo. to. Ri. yu. i. chi.

Dave: You have really sworn my demise, haven’t you…

Kai: Great. Get a cab. See you in 20.