When we mention “two-time award nominated producer, Ian Brennan,” a good percentage of mainstream America would likely assume that we were referring to the creator of the FOX network’s musical sitcom, GLEE.  We aren’t.  Although his work may be less recognizable among the soccer mom and mall-frequenting tween sets,  the Bay Area producer/musician/writer/indie-promoter is, arguably, much more prolific than his prime-time Hollywood namesake.  [Please note that this is not a claim that Brennan is likely to make himself or one that he is even likely to concern himself with.]

Through various successful ventures, Ian has consistently proven himself a modern day Renaissance man, drawn to any project or cause that he finds substance in and feels that he has the ability to be beneficial towards.  Besides working on his own music, Brennan produced the debut release from Rain Machine (aka: Kyp Malone from TV on the Radio) in 2009, and has received Grammy nominations for his work on albums for both Rambling Jack Elliot [I Stand Alone -2006] and Peter Case [Let Us Now Praise Sleepy John - 2007].  He’s been a highly successful concert promoter- raising over $100,000 in charity funding from benefit shows- and booked the music for the free “Food Not Bombs” 20th anniversary show (feat. Fugazi and Sleater Kinney).  Over the last 17 plus years, he has worked as an expert on the subjects of violence prevention, anger management, and conflict resolution (both as a published author and lecturer) and, in 2008, created San Francisco‘s Sidewalk Homeless Memorial, raising awareness for the numerous casualties that annually befall individuals who are living on the streets.  Brennan has worked in public radio, written a music column, directed a weekly public-access TV show, and even created the original “Boxing Bush” online video game, after unsuccessfully extending a challenge to the former U.S. President to compete against him in an 8-round charity boxing match.  For his latest project/labor of love, the Bay Area-native has focused his sights overseas and unearthed the soulful music of a relatively unknown Rwandan trio known as The Good Ones.  At a time when bad musical theater renditions of 80s covers by Twenty-something actors posing as precocious teens are being credited with breaking Billboard Top 100 records held by the likes of The Beatles (who they cover!), James Brown, and Elvis, music this unpretentious, pure, and untainted by over the top marketing gimmicks is more essential than ever.

Brennan‘s journey in Rwanda began when he accompanied his wife (filmmaker, Marilena Delli) and the film crew for “Rwanda’ Mama” in documenting his mother-in-law’s first return to her birth country in 30 years.  After witnessing her family’s rape/murder during the first Rwandan genocide back in 1959, Marilena‘s mother was orphaned at the young impressionable age of only 7 years old.  In 1978 she married an Italian ex-priest and relocated to Italy, only to endure additional issues of poverty and racism in a completely new environment, with the added setback of an unfamiliar language.  The subject matter of the film is intense and, throughout the course of her return visit, she is even reunited with her best friend, whom she had previously believed was slaughtered in the 1994 massacres.  In addition to the focus placed on her mother’s return home, the film also addresses feelings of displacement for Marilena and her sister, who were persecuted as “blacks” in Northern Italy, and the disillusionment felt as they realized that they would find no more of a home in Rwanda, where they were viewed as “white” outsiders.

Ian spent his time in Rwanda on his own personal mission to discover hidden musical talent in a nation overshadowed by the trademark sounds of such neighboring countries as Burundi and The Democratic Republic of Congo.  This quest was further fueled by a need to disprove so called World Music “experts” and their close-minded claims that Rwanda had absolutely nothing of value to offer the music world.  The producer held a firm belief in his vision but, after two-weeks of intense searching, he was still coming up flat.  It was at this point, in July of 2009, that he was introduced to the inspiring musical harmonies of The Good Ones:

“They were standing in the dark, their eyes downcast and restless, and holding only one guitar between them. From 100-feet away, I knew instantly that there was something special about them, a feeling one is lucky to experience even once in a lifetime. By that point, I’d already visited literally every recording-studio in the capital (Kigali) and surrounding areas over two weeks and listened to hundreds of artists, but to no avail. This meeting had been set up through a mutual friend and the instant the band opened their mouths to sing, it was as if the universe reached down to tap me on the shoulder and say, ‘What these guys do is precious and rare. Don’t fuck it up.‘”

That first night’s meeting was with Adrien Kazigira (47 yrs old) and Stany Hitiman (also 47), only two-thirds of the group, and the one guitar that they wielded between them contained only two-thirds of it’s strings.  Even with this lesser format, Brennan knew that he had finally found the artists that he’d been searching for.  With the aid of a translator, he urged the duo to allow him to document their sound.  They agreed, but assured him that they were only a shell of themselves without their final member, Jeanvier Havugimana (38).  The following night they returned as a trio and an additional, although battered, acoustic guitar was located for Kazigira, while Stany played the 4-string.  Brennan constructed a makeshift recording set-up by utilizing a couple of condenser mic’s and elements from the documentary crews video cameras.  What resulted was the beautiful and intimate 11-track release, Kigali Y’ Izahabu, released by Dead Oceans last November.

Recorded outside on the porch of the very same property that they had met at the prior evening, Kigali Y’ Izahabu is as raw as it is moving (on the song, “Umahanano” wild dogs can actually be heard barking in the background).  The vocal harmonies are misleadingly complex, as they commingle and whirl like dervishes; filling the gaps in the guitar lines like breezes effortlessly swirling through forest canopies.  Over time, World Music has often become as diluted as any other genre of music, and The Good Ones remind us of the value that can be found within other cultures, no matter how foreign they may seem to our own.  Not even recorded in straight-forward Kinyarwandan (the official Rwandan language), but rather in a street dialect that not everyone in their home country even understands, Kigali Y’ Izahabu communicates through it’s emotions, deliver, and tone as much as through the words themselves.  I haven’t been as instantly affected and struck by the sounds of a “world music” album in this way, since I was introduced to the kora through Toumani Diabate‘s 1988 solo debut, Kaira.  More than just a testament to what outside cultures have to offer, The Goods Ones are a reminder of both the purpose and possibilities of music, itself.  With a group comprised of 3 middle-aged war veterans/genocide survivors who subsist on next to nothing in one of the poorest countries in the world, these men do not play music for any other reason than because their souls have instructed them too.  Considering their circumstances, the idea of getting a record deal wasn’t even on their radar, let alone a priority.  With all of the press releases we receive from groups with slick marketing campaigns, high-budget videos, and appropriated imagery, the honesty behind these 3 Rwandan men is both welcomed and refreshing.  And, with all of the newfangled titles being invented to fabricate the illusion that some entirely unique new genre like “Post-Wave-Core” has been invented, I don’t know how else to refer to what The Good Ones present than to simply call it “MUSIC”.

We have been fortunate enough to communicate with Ian Brennan, himself, and have the producer discuss with us a bit more about his  process, perceptions, and over all experiences in working on this amazing project.  That dialogue of that conversation is posted below.  We hope you enjoy it.

MONSTER FRESH: I know that when you headed to Rwanda it was partly for the filming of Rwanda Mama, documenting you mother-in-law’s return to her birth country.  How long had you been intending to search out Rwandan music prior to that?  Was it something that you had been hoping to do for a long time or more of an idea that you began fostering once you knew that you would already be heading to the country with your wife?

IAN BRENNAN: The music search was an idea that formulated once the trip was scheduled and developed further while we were there and became more acquainted with the country.

From what I’ve read about the documentary, it seems to address strong elements of racism and prejudice, but I was surprised to hear that there is so much prejudice against the MUSIC of Rwanda, as well.  Did you find your own quest of redemption aligning with the progression of the documentary at all?

The documentary and the record are definitely related.  The record would not have happened without the documentary.

I’ve noticed that a film still from the Rwanda Mama site is also being used as the cover art for The Good Ones’ album and am wondering if that is the extent of the integration between the two finished projects.

They are separate entities.  Hopefully, they both help bring positive attention to Rwanda, a diverse country of almost 10 million people.  Rwanda’ Mama, ironically, features much great Rwandan music (a lot of it rarities from the 1970′s), but not The Good Ones.

The photos were done by Marilena and her sister and the video footage by Marilena, so thanks to them we have strong visual components for the project.

You’ve stated that there are political issues discouraging street musicianship in Rwanda and that it was something which made seeking out the local music more difficult for you.  You’ve also referred to The Good Ones music as part of a tradition known as “Street Songs”.  Was there once a strong street music element to the culture and, if so, approximately when did that end?

In our experience there were no street musicians and we were told by more than one person that it is discouraged there, but i do not know officially what the status of that is.  The “worker song” tradition is a folk tradition and when they speak of the streets it seems that reference is more regarding the “tougher” neighborhoods than actually performing publicly.

Stylistically, is the tradition that The Good Ones music stems from something that is still vibrant in the country or is it a sound that is near extinction due to abandonment by younger generations?

Rwanda is musically diverse and vibrant, but in our experience most of the music currently being made there was akin to American hip-hop and R & B, but with Kinyrwandan lyrics.

It seems like you had a goal to prove that Rwanda had something important and valid to offer the world musically, but when you went there, you had such difficulty locating anything of substance.  Do you feel that The Good Ones are ultimately a representation of Rwanda, simply a singular musical anomaly of a few individuals creating magic, or, at this point, does that even matter?

They are individuals.  Rwanda is a complex and rich culture of almost 10 million people.  There is definitely something magical and unique about the music these three men make, though.

This is basically just an extension of the last question but, coming from a country with such a loaded history, how important do you think it is to focus on the musicians as individuals vs where they are from?  How much importance do you place on the arts to create understanding and compassion between cultures?

Art is a great commonality and can transcend race, nationality, class, with amazing ease.  It can be one of the most powerful gateways for creating understanding and compassion.  Certainly, Dr. J or Jackie Robinson or James Joyce or Bruce Lee, did more for lastingly breaking down stereotypes and barriers between human beings than any politician could ever hope to.

The arts both reflect and for better or worse lead a culture. Rwanda deserves much recognition beyond the tragedies of the genocides.

When you met them that first night and they explained that they needed their third member to record, did you feel an urgency where you felt like you might lose the opportunity if you didn’t record immediately?

It was definitely a bit scary to wait, particularly since Stany and Adrien also harmonize quite well together.  But they were definitely right that it was even better with Jeanvier.

Click here to view the embedded video.

In the song “Gahinda Umpora Iki We” (“Sadness why do you persecute me?”) there is mention of the song Bertilde being stolen in the lines, “I wrote the song about Bertilde.  The morning after they stole it from me.  They put it on CDs and on DVDs.”  Did they explain that scenario in any more detail and how trusting and open were they to allowing you to record them, overall?

They definitely were wary.  The tradition of bootlegging is so predominant in Africa and most regions outside of North America, Japan, and Europe, that there basically is no official or legal record industry in much of the world.

There is such a variety to the subject matter from song to song, but much of the lyrics deal with concepts of universal wisdom.  I like that “Gahinda Umpora Iki We” lends a balance to that subject matter, demonstrating that even these men, who seem to have such a firm centered grip and uplifting view on everything, still have their own moments of fear and doubt.  “Umuntu Ni Nkundi” (“One person is like another”), however, seems to encompass more of the general tone of the album, because they don’t seem to be complaining about their circumstances, but rather, just understanding and seeing beyond them.  Based on the time that you spent with them, do you find that to be an accurate interpretation of their characters?

It seems that very few people in Rwanda have not directly been touched by unthinkable tragedy, so there is a palpable depth and sadness melancholy that underscores most interactions, but also a mature joy.

It’s my understanding that for the translations, you’re mother-in-law first had to translate the songs from an informal slang to Kinyarwandan, then to Italian and, after that, your wife translated them from Italian to English.  Did you have any idea what they were singing about when you were recording?  Was there any pause for explanation or did you just go straight through the recordings with little interaction?

Certainly there was an element of wanting to be sure that we knew what was being sung about and the quality of the lyric writing was another great revelation.  We did know that the vast majority of the songs were love songs as evidenced by 4 of the 12 titles being names of women.

Much of the content is universally relatable, like how “Ibyʼisi ni Ubusa” (The things of this earth one day or another will end) is about the impermanence of materialistic goods or how “Bakame nʼ Ingwe” (The fox and the leopard) addresses the pain of deceit and infidelity.  For me, “Egidia” is a bit more difficult to discern the meaning behind and I was hoping that you may be able to enlighten me about it.  I wasn’t sure if it’s just a simple story about a girl moving away without a trace or if there was anything more to it culturally that I would be missing.

My understanding is that often in Rwanda communication channels are difficult, so the poignancy of losing contact with someone can be quite deep.  For instance, my mother-in-law lost contact with her best friend for decades and had believed her dead, before discovering in 2008 that she was still alive.

As a successful public speaker on the subject of Anger Management, I am curious about your interpretation of the song, “Amagorwa yʼ Abagabo” (The desperation of men).

It is certainly one of the more controversial lyrics, but i think its largely redeemed by the final stanza.

“Usually some men have a difficult life
Usually some men have a difficult life
But there are some women who have a difficult life too
Try to speak…what do you say? If you speak, I come and beat you
Try to speak…what do you say? If you speak I come and beat you…
But not everyone is like that…”

Since there are limited forums for them to perform in publicly or as a “band”, I was surprised by how structured and well formed their songs were.  Do they consider themselves to be a formal group or just some friends playing music together?

They do consider themselves a formal group, but there are few venues for public performance in Rwanda.

Did you expect them to have so much material available from the beginning or were you surprised to find that they had such a large catalog to draw from?  Also, had you even intended to find that one group or did you expect to piece together more of a selection from different artists initially

It was a journey and quest with no real end-goal in sight, just the hope and faith that there would be much great music out there.  The depth of The Good Ones’ writing, particularly Adrien’s, is rare anywhere.  It has been gratifying to defy the “wisdom” of more than one of the European colonialist music-industry figures who act as the gatekeepers for bringing international music to the world and had the audacity to tell me, “Rwandan music is not good.“

I know that they cut the recording session shorter than you had hoped, because of a “meeting” the next day.  Are there hopes to record more of their work at some point?

It would be nice to record more.  And they certainly have much more material, some of which I heard (and was as strong as most songs on the record) and most of which i didn’t.

One of the first questions that I had regarding the unique nature of an album like Kigali Y Izahabu, relates to the concept of “production” versus “documentation”.  Then I found a comment from you stating that you view every album that you work on as a “field recording” on one level or another.  Producers are typically acknowledged for the signature touches that they put on an artist’s sound but, with something like The Good Ones in particular, the approach seems to be to avoid and/or remove as many fingerprints as possible.  How much does the approach to recording differ on an album like this and what, if anything, did you take away from it that might lend itself to your overall approach to recording in the future?

Hopefully, every experience is a learning process.  I view my job as trying to be as objective, invisible, and and ego-less as possible, and hopefully to help artists get out of their own way and not be tripped up by their own subjectivity.  For example, almost every artist I’ve ever known hates the song that is most beloved by neutral listeners.

In the interview with SFist.com you talk about your approach to working with an artist by stating that it is “More than getting them to do something, it’s getting them to not do something.”  Were The Good Ones extremely organic with the process, seeing as they don’t generally encounter a situation such as this, or was there any hesitation or issues of them trying to deliver something to you that they thought you may have wanted?

They were very professional and focused. they played Sara three times– once the first time and twice the night of the recording– and all three times it was uniformly stellar.  In my experience, in the absence of TV, video-games, etc. many African communities have deep practice of self-entertainment where expression musically is a normal part of daily life.

In the promotional images Jeanvier is holding a book labeled “Chitarra”, is that where they learned to play?

Stany is holding the book.  Its an Italian song book and he said he used it to learn many songs and was quite smitten with Italian culture from what he said.

You’ve been associated with Anti- records in the past; what brought you to Dead Oceans for this release?

Bob van Heur, a great independent promoter in the Netherlands, suggested that i contact Phil at Dead Oceans.  I was immediately impressed with how instantly Phil had an understanding of what made the band special– the deceptively complex vocal interplay, etc.

What’s the next step?  How much post-nurturing takes place with a project like this?

The next step is hopefully that they can tour Europe and/or the USA, but there are many bureaucratic elements that impede that.  Also, hopefully the record will find a place in the canon of “world music” and enjoy the longevity it deserves (and hopefully also provide greater financial rewards for the band).

It’s been an ongoing labor of love, but a pleasurable one.  The more people that hear the record, the greater  the benefit, i think for both the band and the listeners.

Before ending this, I wanted to give you an opportunity to tell us more about your new book “Anger Antidotes: How Not to Lose Your S#&!” which is coming out this year.

It’s been over 17 years in the making.  There are many books on the subject, but hopefully there are a few insights in this one that will help a few folks to find constructive alternatives to the negative behaviors we see around us so often.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

BUY Kigali Y’ Izahabu HERE

PLEASE CHECK OUT THE FOLLOWING LINKS:

IAN’s Official Website
The Good Ones (on Facebook)
The Good Ones (official Dead Oceans Artist Page)

It’s already the year 2011, which means that we’re only 9 months away from the 10 year anniversary of the attacks on the world trade center.  For a lot of us, 9-11 is our Kennedy assassination; meaning that we all remember where we were when we heard the news.  I, for one, was working for the housing department at the Evergreen State College and both coincidentally and inappropriately listening to “You Dropped A Bomb on Me” by the Gap Band.  After the shock subsided, that’s when the country began losing their goddamn minds.  It’s been almost a fucking decade already and, within that time frame, the American people have transformed from a savage pack of wolves, thirsty for the blood of any brown person they could locate, into a country that is thirsty for the blood of the black man that they elected for President, because he hasn’t worked fast enough to taper down the inertia that was push-started by that, aforementioned, original thirst for blood.  Oh, America.  Remember that time, when we had a new collective anger that was fresh and clear?  We didn’t just have to be disgruntled in our usual, personal ways or even complain about our government anymore.  Sure, we hate our families, but they’re OUR families and no outsiders were gonna tell us what’s what or give us the what for.  We were together on something… a team, if you will.  All of us!  Everyone!  That is…  except for people like myself, of course, who are clearly some sort of nondescript ethnicity that recklessly refuses to shave regularly.  Throughout the two-thousand-oughts, however, everything has slowly muddled out as usual and we all hate the government again and, of course, each other.  It’s pretty much just like it used to be, except that less people have jobs, privacy rights, or even their lives.  We do have a lot more gadgets, though and I have a pretty strong feeling that, if you really did some honest research, we wouldn’t choose to have it any other way.  Yep, it’s pretty much the same and it’s clear as all get out that no single tragedy, no matter how large or catastrophic, will likely ever capsize our chosen way of life.  There’s actually a beauty to that, otherwise depressing, reality, I think.  Yep, it’s pretty much the same and one thing that continues to ring true is our blind pride and baseless dislike for anyone that we get the feeling thinks that they are better than us.  I’m not talking about Al Qaeda; there’s no question that whole situation is all terribly fucked.  I, of course, am referring to none other than the French.

Why do we hate the French, again?  Oh yeah, because it’s super easy.  They’re like that girl in your office building, or your English class, or… wherever, that you don’t really have a major reason to dislike her for, but there’s just something about her.  Basically, it’s just catty shit.  The Real Housewives argument type shit.  Bring it On cheerleader tournament and My Super Sweet 16 party feuding.  It’s a safe dislike, where nobody really wants to bomb each other, but just make comments under their breath about each other’s designer knock-offs and supposed cankles.  It’s the type of bickering that the Olympics and World Cup were invented to settle.  We used to be friends and then everything went all Lauren and Heidi between us.  They’re all smug with their health care like they came to school with the same handbag that they knew we were gonna buy.
“Bitch.” …
“What was that?!”
“Oh… nothing.”
Or maybe they’re more like the friend caught in the middle of a fight that doesn’t wanna get involved.  Whatever the case, the minute that they refused to charge in, blowing shit up with us the way we wanted, we began harpooning accusations of anti-freedom towards the very country that gave us the Statue of Liberty in the first place.  “Patriots” stopped eating “French” Fries and began ordering “Freedom” Fries (I was still eating jalapeno poppers).  Even now that the majority of Americans seem to retroactively disagree with the methods involved with the initial launch into our war in Afghanistan, it doesn’t feel like much of our lukewarm animosity towards the French has really subsided.  Why would we admit any mistakes?  That’s not the American way.  My hopes with this post are to finally flush out the negative feelings that many Americans have continued to harbor towards the country once and for all.  Considering the fact that France is known for yielding the most famous mime in history, I know that it will be a difficult task, but I think that I have discovered something so hardcore, powerful, and undeniably awesome that it will be difficult to refute it’s powers.

For quite some time, I have held the belief that the best way to overcome cultural differences is through the cultural differences themselves.  What I mean is that, it’s really difficult to completely discount the Japanese because ninjas and samurai are so fucking amazing and, no matter how racist and bigoted towards the Mexicans someone is, it’s hard to deny the delicious power of a taco truck.  As for France, they’ve gained some musical success in The States with bands like Air and Phoenix, but that only effects the fans that lean more towards indie-pop music and they probably read books and don’t really hate the French anyway.  A more effective exhibition of their contributions to the world would be to bring up DAFT PUNK, however, they are, by all accounts, futuristic space robots and don’t really count anyway.  My first thought would be to try and make a case through Serge Gainsbourg, first and foremost, but that’s not gonna get you very far with the real hardcore right-wing Southern boys that would just ask me if I was “some kinda faggot” for listening to “that pussy bullshit“.  If anything, such artists only hurt the cause in the eyes of America, who looks at the French like a nation of snuggling art pansies who were too pussy to throw a punch or, more importantly, a grenade, in the first place.  So, what is something that everyone can understand?  What’s a universal language?  Booze!  The Russians have vodka, the Dutch have gin, the Caribbean is credited with rum, Ireland and Scotland lay claim to whiskey.  What is France known for?  That’s right, sparkling wine.  French food isn’t exactly something for the average Joe Stars-N’-Stripes and neither is French cinema.  The Professional was great, but it didn’t exactly have the widespread appeal or audience of films like Braveheart or the Godfather trilogy and, subsequently, didn’t do as much to give the France the type of badass persona that the Scotts and Italians garnered from their respective representations on the big screen.  We are on the right track, though.  I believe that Jackie Chan once said something to the effect that the reason that his work translates across borders so well is because, even if people don’t understand the language or much else about a foreign culture, everyone understands a punch to the face.

Just recently, we came across a video by a French electronic recording artist by the name of KLEMENT.  The song is called “Supersize“, which is already a pretty great start if you want to win the hearts of America.  Of course, for all we know, the lyrics might actually be a direct attack on our country, but I can’t tell the difference and we will generally listen to anything as a people as long as we can type our feet to it.  The track has a driving high-octane rhythm, which doesn’t let up until the end.  That being said, the best part of the video really can’t be contributed to Klement alone, but to the the team that created the visuals.  Château-Vacant is the name of a art/design collective comprised from the talents of Yannick Calvez, Lémuel Malicoutis & Baptiste Alchourroun, Frenchman who are now residing in Montreal (don’t worry, we still don’t have to give the Canadians a break, quite yet).  Their work for the project revolves around cut-outs and the type of animation that is not reliant on overly high-tech equipment and computer imaging.  Throughout the masterpiece, which is the “Supersize” video, you will experience the main character tearing through one of the most testosterone-filled animated journeys this side of a Super Jail or Metalocalypse massacre sequence.  After starting his day with a classic stretch, pull-up, and jumping jack routine, our hero kicks things into hyper-drive; doing flips over brick walls, skydiving, head-butting trees in half, flying a plane through the sun, starting an avalanche with a stick of dynamite, and even bicycle kicking the head off of an elephant.  If this footage of ass-kicking wonderment isn’t enough to diffuse some of the animosity towards the French and quell the idea that they know nothing about being hardcore and mannish, then I don’t know what will.  All that I do know is, if this is the type of shit that is REALLY going down over there, you can officially leave me out of any further instigation against these people.  Then we’ll see who’s laughing when I’m one of the only one of us being freed from the belly of a giant whale via motorbike.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Find out more about KLEMENT at Myspace.com/klement666

and…

Check out the work of Chateau-Vacant through HERE

One of the first people contacted after starting MonsterFresh.com, was our writer known as D.W. Patton. It may have been the last time that I saw him face to face when we were sitting at the China Town bar in Olympia, Wa. We traded manuscripts. I gave him a 19 page paper I had written about my theories on time travel and Satan while he gave me a copy of a play that he had written entirely of Elizabethan dialogue involving a half-man/half-woman Brian Bosworth separated vertically down the middle. He is currently teaching children in Japan and has written 3 articles for the site about his experiences living in the Island Country. He has covered such topics as spending the 4th of July in a foreign land, Japanese Porn, and even cultural transplants such as McDonalds. I had hoped to receive more content based around these observations from an outsider and have had occasional emails with Patton pertaining to such aspirations. He had planned to send an article to me about the bar scenes and drinking in his current location but it has yet to happen for one reason or another. There was even hope that I could get the Zomba group to grant him free access to a Backstreet Boys concert in Japan so that he could report on the continued boy band frenzy and the juxtaposition of the two pop cultures coming together, but that didn’t work out either.

D.W. has been very busy with work and other responsibilities as of late. I was recently thinking about him and his work. I had thought to contact him about possibly writing some more facinating content for us when I noticed a message in the MonsterFresh email account. Somehow during a correspondance with a friend of his, their email conversation was accidentally forwarded to me. Although I still hope to receive some material tailored specifically as an article and/or to work with him more in the future in one form or another, I quickly realized that the email that I had in my posession was a genuine article that represented some very deep and honest feelings for him at the time it was typed. It was written from a sincere place of evaluation for both his environment and his place within it. I know that he holds his time and experiences in Japan very dear, and that he truly does have respect for the culture and opportunities that he’s had over there, however, if I plan to print honest unfiltered material on this site, and I do, I felt that I could not overlook what I had read. I contacted him and Patton agreed to let me post his letter without hesitation.

I hope, as I’m sure that he does, that this is read, not as a document of slander for a place and its people and culture, but as a look into the effects of culture shock on one’s psyche and emotional health and well-being. He has confirmed that this letter accurately represents his recent feelings as a foreigner living in a distant and very different land. Hopefully, this will further help those of us who read it, to re-evaluate the way that we too treat and view people around us who have ventured outside of their own cultural safe-zones with adjusted and more conscious approaches to what they may be experiencing. Below in bold type is that letter.

-DEAD C

The amount of lying and cheating and dishonesty that lies beneath the superficial cosmetic complexion of the face of Japan is great.
I wouldn’t even know where to begin to explain where that thought came from, but I have learned it to be truth.
Sometimes I find it harder in Japan than in America to retreat behind a mask, because people look at me as if I am in costume just because of my skin, eye, and hair color.

I even smell different sometimes. And any difference I have is magnified because of my racial and national differences.
I hear that whores are cheap here and married women throw themselves at me for free, but it’s hard enough to look in the mirror in the morning without a bag of adulturey around my right eye and whoring around my left.

But the food is good here and people don’t kill each other.
They’re too busy with suicide in one drawn out form or another.
Three dollar tabacco.

Just walking by the pachinko parlours makes my ears ring.
Australian accents are more a part of my Japan than sushi.

A shower, a shave, and a tie around the neck in the morning hides the individuality, the pain, and dampens the enthusiasm of myself and prepares me to go to work where I am a well payed and quite respected clown singing the ABC’s.

Racists hate me and I flex my tattooed muscles at them because I think it’s funny because it is.

The nights away from the bullshit, for example at a dinner with a friends family are welcome. Normal people are great here. Nice normal people with good senses of humor, but it’s hard to meet them when people don’t talk to strangers and most people who want to speak English or meet foreigners either want to get laid or have a foreigner obsession. But the families I know are nice. They speak to me in their language and I can speak a little back.

So when I can’t do that I go to the vinyl bar and hang out with a couple Japanese guy friends. Sometimes go to the studio and scream heavy metal in to a microphone with my friend who plays guitar. We have to take our shoes off to go in to the studio and we can’t bring beverages that are more than 500ml in size and we can’t bring alcohol because Japan won’t let us, but I can scream as loud as I want to behind closed doors which is almost like escaping Japan.

Sometimes on the weekend, I play tackle football on a dirt field with no pads and Australians. We walk away a little bloody, then wash up and go drink beers.

Temples and Shrines are as abundant as the lies and the masks.
Drop ten cents and pray for good health and world peace
Then stumble home a few hours later
wake up hurting
and tie the noose again

“D.W. Patton”

It was another rainy night in suburban central Japan, so I decided to take my night elsewhere, namely to the city of Gifu to see what a rainy Friday night was like in that city which I hesitate, but only slightly, to call romantic.

With the rain came some humidity, but still I wore my wind breaker.
Gifu.
Everybody says that there is nothing in Gifu. But, I am there, or, at least, I was there, or, at the very least, I will be there again, so isn’t that something?

The train ride from the suburbs to the city was so dark that I could see only my reflection in the train windows.  My belly was grumbling and I wanted to find a place where I could sit, eat, and write. In Japan, as in America, and, just about everywhere else in the civilized world, there is a common place to go to fill such desires; McDonalds, or as the natives call it, “Makudonaludo“, or simply “Maku“.

After a long walk and some back tracking, I finally found a non smoking McDonalds that wasn’t too far from the station. It was a clean place with white leather chairs and there was an open seat facing the window where I watched the rain drops fall on passing umbrellas and stagnant cement.  The music in the upstairs dining room was nice and simple – bell voice keyboards. It was as soothing and as comforting as the solid poison I would consume in the form of two all beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions on a sesame bun.

It was only 9pm and I wanted to take my time. I wasn’t tired and I just didn’t want to leave the bright lighting that contrasted the dark and dreary rain outside. I wasn’t ready to join the white skirts and neckties running desperately through the rain to the station and I just couldn’t get over the music. It was atmospheric.

As I bit in to my Bigu Maku, I got to thinking about my past experiences in McDonalds. My favorite McDonalds in the world was in Madison, Wisconsin, with the fire place, stain glass windows. I used to go there to read the USA Today, watch Fox News, feel real American, and stay warm from the cold during my lunch breaks. My second favorite McDonalds was the 24 hour McDonald’s at Koenji station in Tokyo. I didn’t have a third favorite, and, before that night, I had never even thought to think about whether or not I had a favorite at all.

I stayed there for an hour or two before catching the train home. That night, as I dreamt about my first time in Japan, I slept with a rock in my stomach.

Before I had ever eaten at a Japanese McDonalds, I studied Japanese in high school. It was kind of a mistake. I signed up for German, my school canceled German, and I ended up taking Japanese. But it worked out, because the teacher made a difficult subject fun. He was an American man who would often spend more time talking about Japan than speaking Japanese.

I was in the midst of my second year of study when our teacher told the class about an opportunity for a free summer as an exchange student in Japan. That day, after class, I told him I was interested.
“O.k.”, he said, “But a lot of people apply, and you probably won’t get it.”
Still I applied, and I ended up getting the scholarship and spending a summer with a host family in Tokyo.

I had to leave school a week early that year, which meant I had to take my finals a week early. I clearly remember my last day of Japanese class that year. After the class was over, the students were leaving for their next period. I walked up to my teacher and asked about my test. He reached for his back pocket and took out his wallet.“Here,” he said as he presented me with a 1,000 yen bill (about ten dollars), “Buy a Big Mac on me. It will teach you more than any test ever will.”  Then he told me, “This trip will change your life.”

As it would turn out, I didn’t have to spend the thousand yen on a Big Mac because the first meal my host family treated me to was from McDonalds. It was a nice gesture for two reasons. First of all, at that time, a Big Mac cost about $10 in Japan. The second reason was because my host family thought that it would be comforting to treat me to American food, being that I was so far away from home. The thought was touching, even if the meal was mass produced, genetically altered bullshit, but, that was eleven years ago.

Times have changed. Economies have risen and fallen, and the price of the Big Mac has evened out. Today, it costs about $6.50 for a Big Mac Combo in Japan: a price that I will gladly pay, from time to time, for a taste of America.

There is something comforting and at the same time exotic about going to McDonald’s in Japan. While it reminds me of home, there are subtle differences in the menu and service that remind me that I am still in a foreign country.  The teriyaki burger, and fried shrimp burger are the two most exotic standard menu items and the service in McDonalds is impeccable. If an employee is on the floor and see’s you walking with your tray, they will smile, take the tray and sort your garbage for you and thank you very politely for visiting their restaurant. Plus it’s clean, and, unlike in America, the employees don’t seem to be ex-convicts, drug addicts, or disgruntled pimply sorry sons of bitches who hate their jobs. But, still, they serve poison.

For example, another difference between Japanese McDonalds and American McDonalds is that in Japan there is a rotating monthly burger. The burgers that I can remember are the Mega Mac, the Teriyaki Mega Mac, The Egg Bacon Burger, and the Fried Pork Burger. I tried the Egg Bacon Burger, and the sauce was a too sweet half honey mustard, half thousand island and the bacon sucked (Japanese bacon is limp and not fried). The Mega Mac is a Big Mac with four patties instead of two but nothing as grotesque, or as awesome, as Jack ‘n’ the Box’s Bacon Ultimate Cheese Burger. And, I never tried the Fried Pork Burger because of the bad experience I had with the Teriyaki Mega Mac.

American English can be charming or offensive because our language is creative and one of my favorite terms that we have is, “Mystery Meat.”  The Teriyaki Mega Mac wreaked of mystery meat. First of all, the Teriyaki Mega Mac is about the size of a Big Mac, but the patties are bigger and made of something that tastes like a beef/pork combo which is drenched in a teriyaki sauce that’s sweeter and less seductive than peach Schnapps. Plus, there’s some kind of pepper in the meat. I ate it during a lunch break and the bathrooms at my work are in the often used storage room where there is no window and no ventilation.  Let’s just say that I’m lucky I wasn’t deported for bioterrorism that day.

Yes, the world has changed in the past eleven years.  In 1996, when I was first in Japan, the cost of a Big Mac was about twice as much in Japan as it was in America.  That same year, Starbucks’ first Japanese shop was opening in Tokyo’s Ginza, which, at the time, boasted some of the world’s highest retail prices.  Today, while Ginza is still expensive and McDonalds is still poison, Starbucks has spread to every major city and many of smaller cities of Japan.  The price of McDonalds in Japan however, is comparable to that of one in the U.S. and, even while America’s economy and global approval slides steadily, our cultural influence continues to dominate.

God bless us.

-D.W. Patton