I'm listening to the Japanese pop station, which is like tuning into an alternate planet of music.
It's like there's a world whose greatest musical influences are Whitney Huston, the first two Asia albums, 1980s British pop (both the New Romanticism of Crowded House and Spandau Ballet, and the techno sound of the Pet Shop Boys-basically, think tenors in sharp suits with lots of hair gel), Elton John, and Quincy Jones. It's an updated version of older Asian pop-there's still lots of sentimentality and enough string accompaniment to make even Phil Spector ache for a Philip Glass-like minimalism-but it strikes me as a lot more sophisticated.
There's an amazing fidelity of the sound: if you focus on the production tricks, the use of computerized drum tracks, and blazing guitar solos, the songs would fit right into a (slightly eclectic) Top 40 station, or one of those stations whose call sign is some kind of play on "the quiet storm." Clearly, artists on the other side of the Pacific have figured out that, as Brian Eno puts it, "the studio is an instrument." But, not to put too fine a point on it, they're singing in Japanese-but with unexpected switches into English.
Then there are some remarkable surprises: an a capella group called The Gospellers that could go head to head with Manhattan Transfer; a jazz quartet doing a quiet, understated cover of "Love is Here to Stay" that could have been from the "Kind of Blue" sessions (I swear they reincarnated Bill Evans for the track); and a song called "Storms" that I can only describe as hip-hop on the Silk Road.
But this eclecticism should be no particular surprise, given how amazing east Asian architects, filmmakers, product designers, and others have been at taking things developed in the West, putting a new spin on them, and returning something that is at once familiar and transformed. The best Jackie Chan movies are a combination of Buster Keaton, Peking Opera, and spy thriller; Arata Isozaki's buildings combine recognizable modern and postmodern elements with Japanese architectural ideas. Culture can have roots and wings (to use a term coined by my friend Gregg Zachary).
What really blows me away are the women singers, who have picked up some serious attitude from the likes of Oleta Adams and Toni Braxton. This isn't just emulation; it's a declaration of independence, with a key change after the sax solo. You go, girl.
This feeling of entering some Pan-Pacific world started when I got into the international terminal, and started noticing that most of the airport employees, and about 80% of the passengers, were Asian. I suppose it's no big surprise, given that this is a major hub to Asia; but this felt less like an "influence" and more like a piece of the New Asia grafted onto the California coast. Usually I don't even think about the Japanese or Chinese influence in the Bay Area, even though I must pass five sushi bars on my way to work: it's just something there, offering a comfortable level of diversity (and excellent food). But the absence of the ordinary background of Blockbusters and suburban houses in which such influence is usually embedded made this stand out more.
The international terminal at SFO. My entrance into a trans-Pacific world
I have no sense of what time I should think it is; a lot of people on the flight are asleep, but I tried briefly and failed to fall asleep. My body thinks it's early evening; I get the feeling I'm going to be in for some serious confusion later today (or this morning, or whatever) when I hit Seoul at my body's equivalent of 4 AM.
My video screen is giving me advice on little callisthenic exercises I can do to keep the circulation going, and avoid cramping. It's pretty amusing.
9:15 PST. We're now 40 minutes from Narita. I'm looking out the window, and seeing either whitecaps, or very tiny icebergs.
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