Takeshi Shibuya

The Shibuya Takeshi Orchestra is one of the most singular, challenging and unusual groups in Tokyo jazz. Many jazz groups strive for accomplished technique, pushing their instruments to the far edge of rapid-fire playing or polishing one style to perfection. The Shibuya Takeshi Orchestra, however, delights in a wild, unbridled style of collective jamming that relishes contradiction.

The Orchestra's unique concept of jazz springs primarily from the influence of the elusive and intense character of its leader, keyboardist Takeshi Shibuya. The nine-piece Orchestra has performed regularly in Tokyo since its inception in 1986 and recorded five CDs, but their long-time underground reputation has only recently turned into wider recognition. Most of the members now lead their own satellite groups and play regularly around town. But it is Shibuya's leadership that has led the orchestra to pursue a rough, energetic approach that is in the jazz world but not quite of the jazz world.

In contrast to the band's intensity, Shibuya is rather quiet and calm in conversation. During our interview over tea, he considered his answers thoughtfully, as if even the simplest questions are not as straightforward as they seem. When asked about the size of his group, he simply said, "When I first started listening to jazz, I liked the West Coast sound of people like Quincy Jones and Shorty Rogers. They had that size group," he said. The distinction between the smooth style of West coast jazz and the Orchestra's edginess could hardly be sharper. "I just like the size itself," he added with a smile. When asked about his leadership, he waved his hand in a gesture to re-direct the question. "As a leader, I don't ask for any kind of sound. This sound is not my own sound. It's just fun," he replied.

Shibuya's hyper-casual manner clearly establishes a loose, flexible vibe. "There is not a plan exactly," he said in typical understatement, "But rather, the relationship is good. Once the energy flows, then everyone can do what they like." Keeping the energy flowing involves a mixed bag of tricks. He is notorious for starting sets late, finishing late, and laying out for long periods in the middle of songs, smoking and listening with equal intensity.

The Orchestra comes to its live shows without pre-planned set lists. Inevitably, during the evening, Shibuya will call out unexpected tunes, making the front line search frantically through their thick stack of music for the right lead sheet. This confusion is always amusing, even the front line has to laugh, but it has its serious side as well. The songs all have clearly stated melodies and turn-taking soloing as with traditional bands, but with only a moment to prepare, they must scramble to be ready. The players are experienced enough to stay out of each others' way and know how to fill in empty slots, but can not rely on practiced phrases. The resulting sound has a raw, unrefined exuberance.

Their arrangement of the traditional "Cherokee" is nothing like any bebop version. Their arrangement puts the melody in the hands of Akihiro Ishiwatari's unusually amped guitar, with the front line horns pumping out a web of back riffs and overlapping lines. On "Ballad," the members hover at the edge of satire, unwilling to fall into traditional ballad forms of sentimentality. They fill the tune with a sense of irony and humor rather than with the expected mournful sadness. Saxophonist Eiichi Hayashi's "Brother" is a fast, driving tune set to the sharp, almost painfully loud drums of Ryojiro Furusawa and funky bass of Katsumasa Kamimura. Perhaps because of the fast tempo, the solos on "Brother" are always the most furiously free, with the sax of Kenta Tsugami and Hayashi stretching the farthest away from the melody and right up to the edge of free style noise.

The Orchestra draws from both traditional and modern styles, but they do so with a postmodern sense of playful appropriation and juxtaposition. "The Orchestra takes the old shuffle beat and puts it together with free jazz to form a new mix," he said.  But rather than think of all these influences as models to be emulated, the Orchestra's approach is to hone in on the essence of those styles and use them as raw material for further creation. In other words, Ellington, West Coast jazz, Dixieland, and free jazz are not forms to be copied but processes with which to experiment.

Their experimentations have mixed results. The Orchestra can occasionally drop into repetitive vamps and high-energy solos that lack direction. Occasionally, when a couple members fail to click with a song's flow, the sound ends up like a self-absorbed rehearsal. But it's obvious that Shibuya, and the Orchestra's many fans, are willing to work through a few clunky passages to get to the intense highs. At their best, the music hits fast-flowing grooves filled with a sense of musical mischief and an ironic sense of cool.

But, it's not all about stretching limits and cathartic blowing. Shibuya returns regularly to music with carefully considered musical and emotional depth. In 1999, Shibuya released an individual project entitled, "Essential Ellington." This recording placed his elegant piano together with a trio made up of two saxes, played by Orchestra regulars Kosuke Mine and Koichi Matsukaze, and tuba, played by Takero Sekijima. The arrangements re-apportioned harmony and melody between all four instruments to uncover fresh resonances in Ellington's classics. Their highly idiomatic re-reading of Ellington's classics is lush, stately and beautiful. " I always liked Ellington's conception. He always turns things around in a playful way. His arrangements are always complex, like free jazz," he said, making another unexpected connection.

Besides regularly accompanying singers and recording a series of introspective duets over the last few years with some of Tokyo's best musicians, Shibuya always ends the Orchestra's shows with a quiet piano solo all alone. The contrast between the unrestrained blast of the full nine-piece orchestra and the calm, reflective beauty of Shibuya's often-played "Lotus Blossom," a tune written by Billy Strayhorn for Ellington, could hardly be more startling, reminding the audience once again that contradictions, wherever one finds them, are a deep source of musical inspiration.

(Originally published in The Japan Times January 2002)