|Blogs > saxyjazzman > Tokyo Nights|
In The Mood?
In The Mood?
I’m sitting outside the MosBurger drinking my regular 8:30 PM coffee, and here comes Shinya, an friend from the old days when we helped him produce pre-recorded dial-up sex-talk for pay phone calls -- but that’s another (crazy) story. He’s come with three other English-speaking Japanese friends to catch my act before I disappear from the club on 12/30.
We go up, I play a set, and we’re kicked back over beers. It’s so unusual to be able to hang with some English speakers. This hostess Benia (or something) comes over, bearing an uncanny resemblance to my first, Chinese-American, high school sweetheart. She’s also an English speaker, and at some point she laughs and tells Shinya, “Saxyjazzman is funny because sometimes he plays some song and just breaks the mood of the club.” She can’t tell me what song it was and starts backtracking fast when she realizes the remark might be a faux pas. After all, I just got fired, possibly because management felt something like way.
Her remark sinks in like a slow knife. It’s still bugging me after my friends have left. I want to ask her, what mood are you talking about? This is a club where, whether I play a soft ballad or uptempo jazz, the waiters literally scream “Irashai masen!!” sometimes in 30 second intervals, like there’s a goddamn war going on. I’ve learned to pause and phrase around that shit, but really, what mood is she talking about? This is a place where customers play earsplitting, 12 year-old drinking games directly in front of the stage. A club where many, many times, after I have played the fuck out of some tune, I pause, breathless, staring out wonderingly at a crowd that doesn’t even know I exist. A place where feet don’t tap and fingers can’t snap.
But I’m supposed to figure out the “mood.” She’s not a bad person. Just clueless.
But Shinya is cool. He and his pals are going to come out to see me gig in Asagaya in January in a club where people care about the music, the management doesn’t empty their wallets, and the ladies aren’t PPTs (professional prick teasers).
Anyway, the joint was empty tonight. Club might be in its death throes. The change is gonna do me good.
End of rant.