9.11

Is it possible for a traditional form of Japanese music to respond to a recent tragedy like September 11? I asked myself that question upon first encountering 9.11 by Kakushin Nishihara. Even knowing that 9.11 was a composition for the biwa--a lute that produces the muscular sounds of songs dedicated to fallen warriors in battles that were fought almost a millennia ago--it seemed like an anachronism.

The best known biwa compositions were inspired by the events of the Gempei War as recorded in The Tale of Heike. The war was fought between the Minamoto (Genji) and the Taira (Heishi), and is sometimes referred to as Japan’s War of the Roses due to the white and red banners the respective sides fought under. The compositions are notable not only for their dramatic musical passages, but for the attention given to the tragic losses suffered by the vanquished. While it is axiomatic that “winners write the history books,” the Heike songs tend toward the elegiac, so it is possible to understand why a contemporary biwa player would seek to memorialize the victims. But given that the attacks of September 11 were conducted by terrorists and the victims were civilians, it was difficult to see how 9.11 would speak to that tradition.

Even the second most well known biwa composition, Honnoji, offered little indication of 9.11’s relevance. Honnoji recounts the fiery death of one of Japan’s most polarizing historical figures, Oda Nobunaga, at the eponymous temple in Kyoto. Loved by some for his charisma and tactical brilliance on the battlefield, he is loathed by others for his ruthlessness--epitomized in the Hiei massacre he led in which three thousand men, women, and children lost their lives after he destroyed a temple complex defended by warrior monks. To call his death a tragedy would be a reach, even if it was unquestionably dramatic.

Read against this problematic historical context, it is at first difficult to listen to 9.11 on its own terms. For a listener not fluent in Japanese or attuned to the subtle differences between the various songs in the biwa repertoire, at the beginning it sounds fairly typical of the genre, with strong playing and mournfully intoned verses. Even when it departs from genre expectations and incorporates discordant cello passages played by Gaspar Claus, thoughts of misplaced avant garde experiments enter the mind.

It was only after repeated listenings that the achievement of 9.11 began to reveal itself. For me, it happened when I caught the word “hikoki” and realized that the errant flight of the plane was being described that the harrowing biwa and cello music evoked images of the damaged towers imprinted in my mind. What had once seemed like dubious experiments were transformed into appropriate correlatives of the chaos experienced that day.

For those of us who lack a direct connection to the tragedy, having not lost a loved one during the attacks, the arts sometimes offer a means of responding when an overload of media coverage threatens to induce emotional shutdown as a coping mechanism. By challenging the listener to relive the day's events, Nishihara summons buried feelings in a way public ceremonies sometimes cannot. On this milestone anniversary, may you find your own time to reflect and find meaning in the aftermath.