Minh and I attended UnitOne's Shiki, at the Torrance Armstrong Theatre, and we came away inspired. The show included lots of new music, and felt personal and important to the performers.
Shiki is the group's newest, full-length concert, and the first with member, Young Kang, as artistic director. Half of the 10 pieces were from the taiko cannon (Hachijo, Yodan Uchi, etc), and half were composed by UnitOne members. I liked the original pieces best, and I was pleased that they set aside others to make room. UnitOne plays pieces like Karc/Jack Bazaar and Rei amazingly, but the original work is unique to them, and the risk-taking made the show feel generous and exciting. The audience definitely felt it. I've spoken to more than a dozen who were elated.
Next, I'd encourage UnitOne to replace the other half with original music.
Easier said than done! I myself compose so slowly, five new pieces would take me years. In speaking briefly with UnitOne members in the run-up to the show, I got the sense that the creative process was sometimes fraught. I hope they felt the end-result was worth it. To me, the original music was a significant gift to taiko. It's a fully-formed take on the art, coming from some of the most accomplished, thoughtful players in North America. If UnitOne agrees with me, I hope the group can continue to orient itself to support its individual members' creative needs. This is a major challenge, but the benefits would be profound, both for UnitOne and for taiko generally. I fear that there isn't enough new music being created to sustain our art. UnitOne is in a position to demonstrate a group of eight players successfully and continually creating.
Know that we're patient, UnitOne! If it means a concert of new music only every third year, for example, or limited showings of single pieces as they're done, we'll cheer on whatever system works for you. Orient the world around the spark!
Aside from simply enjoying the performance, I'll admit that I spent moments within the show pondering what I'd do differently. It wasn't because I disliked anything. Instead, the show encouraged reflection. At the risk of being unfair to UnitOne, I'll try to describe these moments with the hope that UnitOne feels the opposite: "Thank goodness we're not doing it like Arugakki!"
I wanted the composition to be bolder. Summer, by Aki Imai, is one of my favorites, but I wanted to revise it around the core conceit. This should be whatever Imai is hearing, but for me, it's the both-hands-simultaneous strikes. I want to arrange the piece to make that conceit develop to conclusion. In Winter, by Masa Miyano, the part that most moves me is the odaiko over 16th-note shime; a classic and beautiful taiko moment. I wondered, "How could Winter extend this classic sound?" Many of the pieces feature out-of-time "free-play" and individual solos, and both would benefit from bolder arrangement concepts. During free-play, when individuals are playing oroshi and fills as they choose, a more limited palette and compositional concept (like "always end with a single 'ka'") could distinguish one piece's free-play from the others. Solos feel too similar across the different pieces. Instead, "no right hits on the skin", or "all groupings of 5, always", would give each solo a unique world. Autumn, by Young Kang, didn't groove for me. Perhaps Blaine is adjusting to Yuta, and Yuta's all-16ths part shouldn't be the focus of the feeling? How do ghost notes work with a Nate Smith groove on drumset? This is something I'm trying to figure out for myself. The flute playing was impressive, but the fue's singular sound and the limited kinds of phrasing made me crave additional melodic instruments. Trying to draw from the various "classes" of instruments might be helpful here: metallic (crotales, wind chimes), wood (marimba, bamboo), string (electric bass, cello), etc. While every piece had me emotionally invested, I sometimes felt let down when the dial stopped at "9". I think there's more!
More generally, my appreciation of UnitOne made me glad I'm in a duo. I imagined the challenge of guiding a team of eight to create, the challenges of moving the substantial gear, and the trouble of finding sufficient rehearsal time with everyone's schedules. I thought, "Minh and I've got it so much easier." Is eight the right number for a flourishing group?
I also found myself relieved we're aiming for a different aesthetic. We're focused on the composition more than its presentation. UnitOne's performance was seamless, with polished transitions and a formality suited to the stage. There was "ceremonial seriousness" and every piece was well practiced. I'm particularly bad at that kind of perfectionism. Minh and my music is completely experimental, and sometimes we only get to play a new piece once. It's always a bit of a mess... but I like our big leaps, our jury-rigged stands, and our home-made instruments. UnitOne was convincingly cool, but I was glad I don't have to worry about costume changes. (And I don't love the uniform costumes or the "Asano Taiko" labeling... but they know that. My not wanting to wear a uniform is why Katsuji knew I wasn't a fit for the group. Perfect!)
My experience of the show was thus a mixture of pleasure in UnitOne's amazing creation, and reflection on what I'd do differently. I hope this doesn't sound harsh... When a work of art is unfinished, I only think about the work. Here, the work is a strong statement, and so I can turn back to myself and wonder how I'm doing. Thank you UnitOne!