In their youth, most performers have no money, no confidence,
and no fame. Many times they feel insecure about their future.
Even current masters got over such periods, and according to those
artists, their 26th year was a turning point. Here's how Katsuya
Yokoyama overcame the challenges he faced at age 26.
"I began to play the shakuhachi after hearing a record by
Watazumi-sensei (sensei means "master" or "teacher" in
Japanese). I was a junior high school student and was amazed by
his playing, and wanted to play the instrument, not just listen to it.
My father and grandfather both played kinko shakuhachi, so I was
hearing shakuhachi all day. I always respected my father's playing,
but Watazumi-sensei's sound struck me to the core of my being.
"If this tradition was dying out, as my father had told me, I wanted
to continue it even if only for a generation, whether I could make a
living at it or not. After graduating from high school and working
at a company for 6 years, I came to Tokyo. It was a very difficult
time for me. For the first time I realized how hard it must have
been for my father to make a living playing the shakuhachi in a
rural area. When I told my father that I wanted to be a shakuhachi
player, he told me that he didn't want me to suffer from two types
of hardships: financial and artistic.
"In Tokyo, I studied under two masters, Watazumi-sensei and
Fukuda Rando-sensei. Fukuda sensei taught me while playing the
piano, not the shakuhachi. Watazumi-sensei told me 'Teaching
students makes me play poorly,' even though his lesson fee was
extremely high compared to other teachers! I couldn't understand
the notation used in my lessons, and I cried in despair several
times. Still I had to keep playing, and I used up all the money I'd
saved working for those six years on my tuition.
"My practice at that time focused on acquiring good pitch. I used a
tuning fork since that was all I had. I wanted to be able to
improvise, so I used to play to whatever was on the radio. By doing
so, I learned which size shakuhachi I should use for each song. I
wasn't good at korokoro (finger tremolo) so I practiced it all the
time until my fingers cramped. In order to practice tamane (flutter
tongueing) I played Rokudan & Chidori using only tamane. I
practiced holding my breath so that I could do so for up to 3
minutes and 20 to 30 seconds. The point is that you must become
your own strict master. You cannot improve unless the bridge is
burning behind you. You need to come up with your own methods
and strive hard to improve.
"I am confident to say that nobody worked harder than I did to
become a better player.
Some people complain that their memory isn't good, but this is
because they are not trying hard enough. Or some say 'Since I'm
starting in middle age, I cannot become better than someone who
started in junior high school; but this too can be overcome. As soon
as you have negative thoughts you'll cease improving. Keep your
mind focused on spirituality and on all creation. Keep doing what
you believe is important and good. That is precious.
"Being able to study your sound from 360 degrees, from all
directions, in three dimensions, is crucial. For instance, only a few
people can immediately answer what 'Rokudan' is expressing, but
it must be trying to tell us something. A good performance is one
where the means of making the music good are beyond what the
listeners can imagine. If you like someone's playing, you will study
it, which eventually will bring you to a certain state of mind. If you
are then satisfied with yourself, you won't improve. You should
make progress by observing yourself from 360 degrees. If you play
with doubt, the audience will feel the doubt or confusion 10-20
times stronger than you do. It doesn't matter if you play badly as
long as you play with all your heart. I once had such an experience.
A long time ago I went camping by a lake near Mt. Fuji. I began to
hear a not-so-good rendition of 'Chidori.' But I was very touched by
it. Irrespective of the performance being good or bad, I think the
player played with no-mindedness (mushin). I don't use the word
no-mindedness easily, because I wasn't able to attain no-
mindedness myself. I was desperate to attain no-mindedness, so
this man's playing was incredible to me. I still remember it vividly.
"I truly wanted my sound to be non-individualistic. I found out
when I was 25 or 26 that the root of the honkyoku is to be non-
individualistic: that is how you get a rich sound. The important
thing is how much accumulation of knowledge and experience you
have within yourself. This is also important when improvising: how
well you can adjust to everchanging circumstances."
~ Translated by Saori and Peter Hill(April, 2002) [Additional notes
by eB]
