WindBandsandCulturalIdentityinJapaneseSchools PDF

Wind Bands and Cultural Identity in Japanese Schools
Landscapes: the Arts, Aesthetics, and Education
VOLUME 9
SERIES EDITOR
Liora Bresler, University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, U.S.A.
EDITORIAL BOARD
Eeva Antilla, Theatre Academy, Helsinki, Finland

Magne Espeland, Stord University, Norway
Samuel Leong, Hong Kong Institute of Education, Hong Kong
Minette Mans, International Consultant, Windhoek, Namibia
Gary McPherson, University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, U.S.A.
Jonothan Neelands, University of Warwick, UK
Mike Parsons, The Ohio State University, U.S.A.
Shifra Schonmann, University of Haifa, Israel
Julian Sefton-Green, University of Nottingham, UK
Susan W. Stinson, University of North Carolina at Greensboro, U.S.A.
Christine Thompson, Pennsylvania State University, U.S.A.
SCOPE
This series aims to provide conceptual and empirical research in arts education, (including
music, visual arts, drama, dance, media, and poetry), in a variety of areas related to the
post-modern paradigm shift. The changing cultural, historical, and political contexts of
arts education are recognized to be central to learning, experience, and knowledge. The
books in this series present theories and methodological approaches used in arts education
research as well as related disciplines - including philosophy, sociology, anthropology and
psychology of arts education.
For further volumes:

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David G. Hebert
Wind Bands and Cultural

Identity in Japanese Schools
13
David G. Hebert, Ph.D.
Grieg Academy, Faculty of Education
Bergen University College
P.O. Box 7030
Nygårdsgaten 112
N-5020 Bergen, Norway
davidgabrielmusic@yahoo.com
ISBN 978-94-007-2177-7 e-ISBN 978-94-007-2178-4

DOI 10.1007/978-94-007-2178-4
Springer Dordrecht Heidelberg London New York
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Foreword
That this book should be the first by a Western scholar on the institution of the
school wind band in Japan is quite remarkable – legendary for excellence,
supported at the world’s center of instrument manufacture, and fostered by
the largest music competition of any kind in the world as it is. The sources
explored, the issues raised, the information gathered and the perspectives
brought to bear range widely and are presented in well-organized, easily
readable fashion. This is a major contribution to studies of international
music education and of music in Japan.
Introduced for the purpose of strengthening the Japanese nation, Western
music has been a part of the school curriculum since the foundation of a new
educational system in the Meiji era (1868–1912), with singing the primary
medium for instruction. Part I (particularly, Chapter 2) of this book provides
a thorough tracking of the introduction of Western music to Japan with, of
course, particular focus on wind bands – their introduction through military
functions, the early emergence of community organizations and associations
with popular music, influential instructors and other individuals, the develop-
ment of the educational system and motivations for bringing wind bands into
the schools.
While wind music has been closely associated with Japanese school music
programs, bands are not a program of formal academic instruction. Rather,
they (like orchestras and choruses) are an extracurricular club activity at all
levels of Japanese education, endorsed by the Ministry of Education as part of
‘‘moral education,’’ for the purpose of character development. Without formal
training as band directors, school music teachers of academic courses are
responsible for the clubs beyond their full-time instructional duties. Students,
who are highly pressured to succeed academically, nevertheless spend over 20 h/
week and in excess of 600 h/year in school band rehearsals. This book demon-
strates that the system of school bands in Japan, while highly successful in terms
of Western performance standards, is based upon quite different assumptions,
values, objectives and practices than are commonly seen in European and
American school music ensembles.
v
vi Foreword
David Hebert writes as an experienced band musician and director, music

educator in the United States and Japan, professor of music education in
Scandinavia and the United States, and also as an ethnomusicologist. His skills
of ethnographic observation are acute, and his use of documentation thorough
and critical. From the moment of setting the scene in Chapter 3 – the urban
setting, the neighborhood in which Hebert’s primary site of research is located,
the middle school itself and finally the band room, Hebert creates a sense of
place that is at first particular, but from there we are taken in the book to
Japanese culture ‘‘in general’’. Filling the band room with students and the
director for a rehearsal in Chapter 4, Hebert guides us gradually through the
book to an understanding of ranks and roles, gender and class, and issues of
identities (Chapters 15 and 16) in a system of cooperative learning and peer
tutoring that developed in the particular context of Japanese history and
modernity. In Chapter 5 the roles of the band director are compared to those
of an American sports coach and a teacher in the iemoto system of traditional
Japanese music. This is a system that, unlike the Suzuki method that is known
so well known internationally, functions well with little parental involvement
(Chapters 10 and 11).
As we learn through the book, school wind bands in Japan are a form of
community-based music. Lacking the structure of a set curriculum, they are
undergirded by a network of community institutions that have vested interests
in the survival of the practice. Research into those institutions—their histories,
motivations and involvement with the bands – permitted Hebert to understand
their individual contributions and the network among them (Chapters 12
and 13). Among the institutions (to which Hebert devotes more attention
than usual in such a study) are instrument manufacturers – Yamaha, Roland,
Korg – that are committed to community music education. Professional wind
bands including the Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra that Frederick Fennell
directed for ten years and also multiple band associations have roles to play
in the network. Particular attention is paid to the All-Japan Band Association
that mounts the fabulous competition (in recent years, roughly 700,000 musi-
cians in over 14,000 bands typically performing in the three tiers of this annual
national contest), drives composing of new repertoire, and provides the primary
goal for the school bands of outstanding musical achievement. Composers are
the focus of Chapter 9.
The lively issue of competitions Hebert addresses in three chapters. Notable
in Chapter 6 is the first detailed English-language description of the final stage
(national level) of the All-Japan Band Association competition that is annually
attended by a number of Western band directors. In Chapter 8 the AJBA goals
for the competition are revealed, the Japanese system is compared with the
Texas competition on which it was modeled, and Hebert provides an overview
of research on competition in music, including Eurovision and American Idol.
The student perspectives on the competition are the focus of Chapter 7, and we
see Hebert as a sympathetic ethnographer.
Foreword vii
Addressing music educators especially, David Hebert offers two theoretical

possibilities that he amply demonstrates were effective for his analysis of the
school wind bands of Japan. In Chapter 14 he pursues the role of metaphor to
engender key insights into the significance of musical practices in the context of
education and culture. While that has been a key analytic in the fields of
linguistics and ethnomusicology, it is a recent interest in music education
philosophy (particularly in the work of Marie McCarthy and Patricia Shehan
Campbell). In Chapter 17 Hebert proposes from his observation of successful
Japanese wind bands a theoretical model that illustrates the ensemble leader’s
role in guiding musicians toward the acquisition of further musical skills and
understandings. Within this Ensemble Ethos Model, the music teaching process
is reconfigured beyond mere transmission of instructional content, toward a
perspective that accounts for collective learning and social interaction: how an
effective music teacher will nurture a culture of musical achievement.
This excellent book has the potential of bringing music education and
ethnomusicology (and other fields) closer and of bringing Japanese culture
more into focus as a contributing partner in the cosmopolitan shared space of
Western/Japanese music. There is much to learn from it.
Berkeley, California Bonnie C. Wade

Author Biography
David G. Hebert, PhD is a Professor of Music with the Grieg Academy, Bergen
University College, Norway. He previously held academic positions with
universities in the USA, Japan, Finland, Russia, and New Zealand, and has
directed (or currently directs) music research projects on six continents. Widely
published and cited as a scholar of global music education, he is chair of the
Historical Ethnomusicology special interest group of the Society for
Ethnomusicology.
ix
Contents
Part I A Social History of Wind Bands in Japanese Schools
1 The World’s Finest School Bands and Largest Music Competition . . 3

1.1 Overview. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5
1.2 Writing Style and Research Background . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6
Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8
References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9
2 Where are These Bands From? – An Historical Overview . . . . . . . . . 11

2.1 Methodological Approach . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12
2.2 Chapter Overview. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13
2.3 Mythical Origins. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15
2.3.1 Wind Instruments in Japanese Tradition . . . . . . . . . . . 15
2.3.2 Psalmanazar and Other Early European
Accounts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15
2.4 From Zipangu through Dejima . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17
2.4.1 Jesuit Music Instruction in Sixteenth Century Japan . . 17
2.4.2 Dejima and Rangaku. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19
2.4.3 Music Transmission via the Nagasaki Kaigun
Denshujo . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21
2.4.4 Metallurgy, Early Trumpet Instruction, and Guttig’s
Dream . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22
2.4.5 Yamagunitai: Japan’s Oldest Westernized Band. . . . . . 23
2.5 Music Westernization in the Meiji Restoration . . . . . . . . . . . . 25
2.5.1 Fenton’s Legacy. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 26
2.5.2 Origins of Kimigayo . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 28
2.5.3 Iwakura Mission and Rokumeikan. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29
2.5.4 Early Schooling, and the Mason-Isawa Saga . . . . . . . . 30
2.6 Emergence of Community Bands and School Bands. . . . . . . . 34
2.6.1 Jinta: Informal Marching Band. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 34
2.6.2 Shonen Ongakutai: Community Youth Band. . . . . . . . 35
2.6.3 Early School Bands . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 36
2.6.4 AJBA National Competition. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 38
xi
xii Contents
2.7 Japanese Bands in the Mid-Twentieth Century . . . . . . . . . . . . 39

2.7.1 Bands After the War . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 39
2.7.2 The Blossoming 1960s . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 40
2.8 Recent Developments. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 41
2.8.1 Through the Twentieth Century . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 41
2.8.2 The Rise of China . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 42
2.8.3 Recording Industry and Curricular Reform . . . . . . . . . 43
2.8.4 Contemporary Perspectives . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 44
2.9 Historiographic Issues and Revisionist Interpretations . . . . . . 48
2.9.1 Imada’s Historiography. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 48
2.9.2 Musical Contributions of Fenton, Eckert, Mason
and Isawa. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 52
2.9.3 Explaining the Popularity of Bands in Japan . . . . . . . . 54
2.9.4 Fenton’s Final Years: New Data. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 57
2.9.5 Concluding Remarks . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 59
Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 60
References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 73
Part II An Ethnography of Wind Bands in Japanese Schools
3 An Invitation to the Tokyo Middle School . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 85

3.1 A Place for Learning . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 86
3.1.1 The Urban Setting . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 86
3.1.2 The Trek to School . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 87
3.1.3 The School Neighborhood . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 87
3.1.4 At the Campus. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 88
3.1.5 The Main Office . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 89
3.1.6 The Band Room . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 90
3.1.7 Academic Music Classes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 91
Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 92
References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 94
4 The Band Rehearsal Ritual and Its Participants. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 97

4.1 The Rehearsal Ritual . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 97
4.1.1 Chuuningu . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 98
4.1.2 Kiritsu . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 99
4.1.3 Hajime . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 99
4.1.4 Gassou . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 100
4.1.5 Paatore. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 101
4.1.6 Owari . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 102
4.2 Band Participants . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 102
4.2.1 Ranks and Roles . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 102
4.2.2 Jougekankei System. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 105
Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 106
References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 106
Contents xiii
5 Instruction in the Japanese School Band . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 109

5.1 Band Director as Coach . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 110
5.2 Band Director as Hogaku Sensei . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 111
5.3 Instructional Process . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 113
5.4 Zettai Dame!: Negative Feedback . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 116
5.5 Use of Models . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 118
5.6 Uniquely Japanese Techniques. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 120
Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 121
References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 122
6 Scenes from the 50th AJBA National Band Competition . . . . . . . . . . 125

6.1 Fumon Hall . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 125
6.2 AJBA Rules . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 128
6.3 Local Understandings of the AJBA Competition . . . . . . . . . . 130
Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 131
References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 131
7 Winning in Band: Views from Beneath and Within. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 133

7.1 Going for Gold. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 133
7.2 Silver Equals Failure . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 134
7.3 A Pastiche of Remembrance . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 136
7.4 The Rival Drummers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 136
7.5 Saxes Against the Rest . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 138
7.6 A Lingering Humiliation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 138
7.7 Learning Through Competition . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 139
Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 141
References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 141
8 Winning in Band: Views from Above and Beyond. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 143

8.1 A View from Above: Interview with the AJBA Director . . . . . 143
8.1.1 Research on Competition in Music . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 146
Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 151
References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 153
9 Japanese Composers and Wind Band Repertoire . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 155

9.1 Repertoire Selection . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 155
9.2 AJBA Required Pieces . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 156
9.3 AJBA Free Pieces . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 158
9.4 Japanese Band Composers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 162
9.5 Transculturation and Hybridity in Japanese Band
Music . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 164
9.6 Themes from Kyo-En Series of Japanese Wind
Compositions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 167
Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 168
References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 169
xiv Contents
10 Leadership and Duty in the Ensemble. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 171

10.1 Parental Involvement . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 172
10.2 Responsibilities of a School Music Teacher . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 172
10.3 Inkai Management and Instrument Choice . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 175
10.4 Moral Education . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 176
10.5 Isshoukenmei: Giving One’s All . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 177
Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 178
References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 179
11 Cooperative Learning and Mentorship in Band . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 181

11.1 Tutoring One’s Kohai. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 182
11.2 Transmission Through Transcription . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 183
11.3 Learning the Lingo . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 184
11.4 Instilling Perseverance . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 185
11.5 Cooperative Mentorship and Autonomy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 186
Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 189
References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 190
12 Organizational Training of the Japanese Band Director . . . . . . . . . . 193

12.1 Kato Sensei’s Occupational Training . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 194
12.2 The Teacher Transfer System . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 196
12.3 Relevant Institutions and Organizations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 197
Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 200
References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 201
13 Corporate Giants: Yamaha and the Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra . . . 203
13.1 Music Industry in Japan. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 203
13.2 Contributions of the Yamaha Corporation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 203
13.3 Other Japanese Music Companies . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 208
13.4 Professional Wind Bands in Japan . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 210
13.5 Concluding Remarks . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 213
Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 213
References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 215
14 Metaphors of a Japanese Band Community . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 217

14.1 Communities of Learning. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 217
14.2 Metaphors of Community . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 219
14.3 Symbolism in the Band World . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 220
14.4 Embodiment Metaphors in Band Argot . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 221
Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 224
References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 225
15 Musical Identity in the Band: Social Class and Gender . . . . . . . . . . . 227

15.1 Socioeconomic Status . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 228
15.2 Gender Issues . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 230
Contents xv
15.3 Manga, Gaming, and Gender in School Bands . . . . . . . . . . . 233

15.4 Concluding Thoughts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 235
Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 235
References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 237
16 National Identity in the Japanese School Band . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 239

16.1 The Kimigayo Incident. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 239
16.2 National Identity and Music . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 240
16.3 Interpretation of the Kimigayo Incident . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 242
16.4 Kimigayo Outside of School . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 245
16.5 Interpretation of National Identity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 246
Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 247
References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 249
17 Ensemble Ethos: Theorizing Cultures of Musical Achievement . . . . . 251

Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 255
References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 256
18 Conclusions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 259
18.1 Overview of Conclusions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 259
18.2 The World’s Finest School Bands . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 264
18.3 Practical Implications for Music Teachers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 265
18.4 Toward a Musical Community . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 268
Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 269
References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 270
Afterword . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 273
Glossary. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 277
Name Index . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 281

List of Figures
2.1 Hiten at Todaiji temple, Nara . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16

2.2 Yamagunitai notation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24
2.3 Historical timeline of wind band music in Japan . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 45
3.1 Ishikawa middle school building (floor 2) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 88
4.1 Tuning motif. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 100
4.2 Ranks and roles in the school band . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 103
5.1 Kato Sensei’s 5-point approach to band conducting . . . . . . . . . . . 114
6.1 Number of wind bands in Japan by category, 2007 . . . . . . . . . . . . 128
6.2 AJBA membership requirements . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 128
6.3 Responsibilities of AJBA member bands . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 129
6.4 Adjudication by-laws for the AJBA band competition . . . . . . . . . 129
6.5 AJBA contest adjudicator form . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 130
7.1 ‘‘Gold’’ written in the band room . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 134
9.1 ‘‘Free piece’’ categories in the AJBA regional competitions. . . . . . 158
9.2 ‘‘Free piece’’ categories in the AJBA national competition . . . . . . 159
9.3 ‘‘Free pieces’’ of middle school bands at 50th AJBA nationals . . . 159
9.4 Consistently popular composers at AJBA nationals
(1996–2006). . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 160
9.5 ‘‘Japaneseness’’ in music of band composers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 165
11.1 Solfege in Japanese Katakana script . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 183
12.1 Japan academic society for music education . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 198
12.2 Japan society for music education . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 199
14.1 Embodiment metaphors from Japanese band expressions. . . . . . . 223
15.1 Japanese middle school teachers: Gender and subject area . . . . . . 230
15.2 Favorite school subject of Japanese 6th grade students. . . . . . . . . 231
17.1 Ensemble ethos model: (1) The rehearsal process . . . . . . . . . . . . . 252
17.2 Ensemble ethos model: (2) Contextual relationships . . . . . . . . . . . 253
18.1 Conclusions overview A: The teacher . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 261
18.2 Conclusions overview B: The students . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 262
18.3 Conclusions overview C: The system . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 263
xvii
Part I
A Social History of Wind Bands
in Japanese Schools
Chapter 1
The World’s Finest School Bands and Largest
Music Competition
論より証拠
Ron yori shoko
‘‘Seeing is believing’’ – evidence rather than mere ideas
The title of this opening chapter ‘‘The World’s Finest School Bands and
Largest Music Competition’’ may at first glance seem overstated and provo-
cative, but it is amply undergirded by data rather than assumptions. Such
descriptions are derived from an international rather than Japanese perspec-
tive on this subject, and illustrate the perennial challenge of reconciling the
local (insider, or ‘‘emic’’) and global (outsider, or ‘‘etic’’) perspective within
ethnographic research, a problem also illustrated by the choice of title for this
book. In the original proposal sent to publishers, the manuscript was tenta-
tively called Buraban, a slang term for ‘‘wind band’’ in Japanese. Many classic
anthropological monographs have similarly featured a key term from the local
language within their title, but I was concerned that this term might already
be in use. Upon searching the internet, I was surprised to find several
websites announcing the launch of a videogame with the same title. Intrigued,
I explored further. The game featured animated images of schoolgirls playing
various wind band instruments, rendered in the style of contemporary
Japanese anime, complete with enormous eyes, docile expressions, excessively
cute gestures and astonishingly short skirts. But upon further examination,
these cheerful band room images rapidly descended into an uncensored bac-
chanalia of such prurience that would surely be unwelcome in any school
music classroom of the real world.
Apologies seem unnecessary for the rather sterile book title that followed,
Wind Bands and Cultural Identity in Japanese Schools, but this background
seems worth mentioning from the very start because it already provides some
insights into the wider context for the narrative of this book. The fact that a
niche market can be found in Japan among adults who seek interactive ani-
mated fantasies from their school band experience seems to speak volumes
about (a) the significance of these ensembles in contemporary Japanese society,
and (b) the extent of profound cultural differences that often yield unexpected
D.G. Hebert, Wind Bands and Cultural Identity in Japanese Schools, 3

Landscapes: the Arts, Aesthetics, and Education 9, DOI 10.1007/978-94-007-2178-4_1,
Ó Springer ScienceþBusiness Media B.V. 2012
4 1 The World’s Finest School Bands and Largest Music Competition
and even inconceivable reinterpretations of familiar practices upon adoption

into the Japanese educational system.
Most people in contemporary Western nations have had some form of direct
experience with school bands, either as an actual band performer or as an
audience member at the concert of a close friend or relative. Wind bands have
long played an important role in European communities, and have even served
for generations as the primary mode of instrumental music learning in North
American schools.1 However, they have also become a standard offering in
schools of many other nations, where they evolved differently according to each
educational system and cultural context. Japan is among the many non-
Western nations that enthusiastically embraced Euro-American music and
educational models during the twentieth century. But what form have wind
bands taken within Japanese schools? Some American band directors have
travelled to Japan to see for themselves, and upon returning have published
astonishing stories that arouse great curiosity among music teachers in the
United States and abroad.
In Music Educators Journal, one band director asserted that ‘‘Many high
school concert bands and an amazing number of junior high school bands in
Japan are performing on a level equal to America’s college bands,’’ suggesting
that ‘‘performances are of such a high quality that it is doubtful whether any
high school or junior high school concert bands in the world could surpass
them.’’2 Another was ‘‘impressed with the quality of the musicianship, the
discipline, and the pride that was evident in every aspect of both rehearsals
and performances.’’3 Even a Director of Bands at Indiana University has
written that he was ‘‘totally amazed at the enthusiasm and activity of the
band movement throughout the country.’’4
By the start of the twenty-first century, Japanese school bands had become
legendary in the United States, and tours were established to bring American
band directors to Japan to observe school bands. Upon returning from such
tours, directors described the Japanese performances as ‘‘an amazing ensemble
blend, impressive stylistic treatments and a high school ensemble sound that
would rival many of our college and professional groups.’’5 Others asserted that
the tour experience ‘‘redefined what the standard of our profession should be,’’
and that ‘‘Japanese have found a way to take the school band experience to the
highest degree.’’ Such tours typically have focused their attention on the final
stage of the All-Japan Band Association (AJBA) national competition. In
recent years, roughly 700,000 musicians in over 14,000 bands have typically
performed in the three tiers of this annual national contest, apparently the
world’s largest music competition of any kind.6
Those familiar with contemporary American band directors will surely
recognize that the kind of enthusiastic praise reported here is rather unusual.
But do such claims really provide sufficient foundation for the assumption that
the performing level of Japanese school bands has far surpassed all other
nations? And if so, what may have caused this remarkable development, and
what are its implications for how Western musical and educational systems may
1.1 Overview 5
be embraced, modified and mastered by other non-Western societies? Japanese

wind bands represent a particularly striking case of music transculturation
within an educational context, as the history of Japanese bands is not very
long, and within schools it spans only a few generations.7 Educational policy
makers planning the introduction of cultural traditions into schools of other
nations may gain insights from an understanding of this model, as will inter-
disciplinary music scholars and educators with an interest in culture and ped-
agogical practices.
1.1 Overview
This is the first book to describe the current conditions, historical development,
and educational significance of wind bands in Japan. Included is examination of
amateur and professional ensembles, the national band competition system,
Japanese wind band repertoire, and relevant music organizations, as well as a
historical overview of the development of this unique tradition. Extending upon
a doctoral dissertation that was supported by a grant from the Japan Ministry
of Education for ‘‘ethnographic research on the role of wind bands in Japanese
music education,’’8 this book describes the details of daily life within an award-
winning school band in Tokyo, with attention to the cultural context of its
rehearsals and performances. While the school band described herein is unique,
many of the issues and processes observed are similar to those faced by other
school bands in Japan and elsewhere. A gold medal-winning Tokyo public
middle school band served as the principal site for a 9-month period of con-
centrated fieldwork, from July 2002 to March 2003. The conduct of band
rehearsals is described, including an emphasis on instructional techniques and
learning strategies in use within the ensemble’s rehearsals. The study also
examines the role of school band participation in the musical identity of
Japanese youth.9 Additional data were obtained between 1999 and 2007 from
observations of the rehearsals and performances of various wind bands in
Japan, as well as interviews with several influential Japanese band composers
and leaders of music organizations, extensive document analysis, and a ques-
tionnaire to school band directors.10 This was followed by a residency in 2009 as
Visiting Research Scholar at Nichibunken, a division of Japan’s National
Institutes for the Humanities, in Kyoto, which enabled further historical
research and study of Japan’s music industry.
This book is divided into two parts: Part I, a social history of wind bands in
Japanese schools, and Part II, an ethnography of wind bands in Japanese
schools. Chapter 1 has introduced the rationale and purpose of this research,
and will now outline the structure of the book and then proceed to discussion of
the writing style and background of studies on which it is based. However, the
remainder of Part I is a single long chapter (Chapter 2) that steps back in time to
provide an extensive historical overview of the origins and development of
Japanese school bands, based upon comparative critical analysis of both Eng-
lish and Japanese language publications. The remainder of the book (Part II)
focuses on the actual practices and meanings associated with Japanese wind
bands in the present day. Chapter 3 provides an introduction to a Tokyo middle
school band, with detailed description of its urban and institutional setting.
Chapter 4 describes the band rehearsal ritual, and the roles and relationships of
its members. Chapter 5 is devoted to detailed description of the band director’s
instructional strategies, which are compared with the model of a sports coach
and a hogaku sensei, or teacher of Japanese traditional music. Chapter 6
provides the first English language description of scenes at the 50th All-Japan
Band Association national competition. Chapters 7 and 8 demonstrate the role
of competition in a Japanese school band, from a variety of perspectives.
Chapter 9 examines the characteristics and sources of Japanese wind band
repertoire. Chapter 10 focuses on the roles and responsibilities of the Tokyo
school band director, student leaders and parents. Chapter 11 demonstrates the
processes of cooperative learning and mentorship in the school band. Chapter 12
addresses the training of a Japanese band director, providing the first
detailed English language description of various Japanese music organizations.
Chapter 13 examines the role of two highly influential institutions within the
sphere of Japanese wind bands: the Yamaha corporation and the Tokyo Kosei
Wind Orchestra. Chapter 14 examines the cultural significance of common
metaphors in the discourse of a Japanese wind band. Chapter 15 explores
musical identity in the Tokyo school band, in terms of socioeconomic status,
gender, and spirituality. Chapter 16 examines the role of national identity in the
school band. Based on the findings of this study, Chapter 17 presents an
Ensemble Ethos Model as a way of understanding how music teachers nurture
a culture of musical achievement within the ensembles they direct. Chapter 18
presents conclusions, followed by an Afterward, Glossary, References, and
Index.
1.2 Writing Style and Research Background
As the title suggests, this book is about Japanese wind bands generally, rather
than the individual case of a particular school band. Still, most of its vignettes
are drawn from intensive ethnographic observations from a specific ensemble,
the Ishikawa Middle School Band.11 Some careful readers may initially see this
approach as cause for concern, since it may seem to be implied that behaviors
observed in one band are similar to behaviors encountered in all other bands of
its kind. Such an approach would be simplistic and unscholarly, which this
book is not. It is increasingly understood that Japan has one of the most
homogenous national systems of education, and the findings of qualitative
case studies have been shown to be more relevant and broadly applicable in
Japanese schools than in schools of most other nations.12 Moreover, this book
1.2 Writing Style and Research Background 7
is based on much more than ethnographic observations of a single band. As

notes and references indicate, its background includes various research studies
and observations of several different Japanese bands as well as the training of
school music teachers and conductors, discussions with numerous band direc-
tors in various parts of Japan, extensive document analysis, and 4 years of
working experience as a professional educator in Japanese universities, set
against a background of professional experience as a school band director
and music teacher educator in the United States. Japanese scholars and music
teachers have responded very positively to issues raised in the author’s Japanese
language publications, and there have been no indications that vignettes derived
from the Ishikawa Middle School Band are particularly unusual relative to
other successful school bands in Japan. Rather, particular observations from
this case were selected for discussion precisely because they appear to effectively
highlight processes and themes that were determined to be common among
these ensembles. Based on this experience, I am quite comfortable with the
assertion that these descriptions of student behavior are generally applicable to
the majority of award-winning school bands in Japan. There will certainly be
some exceptions, as each band director has slightly different interpretations
and opinions, but it is quite unlikely that Japanese readers will dispute any
of the behaviors described in this book. Rather, those with experience in
Japanese bands have usually tended to appreciate the detail of these descrip-
tions, as the stories are familiar and often resonate with their own personal
experience.
In writing this book, I have attempted to use a style that is accessible to
readers from a variety of backgrounds, including both scholars and students
from the academic fields of comparative education, ethnomusicology, music
education, and Japan studies, as well as professional band directors. For
readers who are interested in learning more about the sources of data, or
who seek discussion of a more theoretical nature, extensive endnotes are
provided that add substantially to the text. Although published in a series
that uses APA style citations, for the sake of interdisciplinary appeal this book
uses a modified form of APA style. Rather than parenthetical citations, notes
are inserted in the main text corresponding to detailed explanations in end-
notes at the conclusion of each chapter. APA-style citations are then located
within each of the endnotes, followed by a list of references for the individual
chapter.
Each chapter is introduced with a different well-known kotowaza (tradi-
tional Japanese proverb) that I found to be especially relevant to the parti-
cular theme of the chapter. For kotowaza that are rather cryptic, I have
provided further interpretation alongside the literal translation. Although
kotowaza have often been romanticized in orientalist literature, I include
them here out of the sincerest of respect for what can be learned from the
traditions of Japan, a remarkable nation that continues to fascinate and
inspire.
Notes
1. For a more detailed discussion see Hansen (2005) and Humphreys (1989). There will be
frequent comparisons between Japanese and American approaches to instrumental music
education at various points in this book. While observations in Japan could be compared
with many different nations, there are especially valid reasons supporting this particular
comparison: (1) Historical factors. As will be explained in Chapter 2, the Japanese school
system is strongly influenced by American approaches to education, providing a highly
relevant model for comparison (Takeshi, 1996); (2) Research corpus. There is no more
thoroughly researched system of music education than that offered in American schools,
making the USA a particularly accessible and globally familiar model for detailed com-
parison (for additional examples, see Colwell & Richardson, 2002; Wohl, 1993); and
finally, (3) Personal experience. The author has highly relevant working experience in the
USA as a public middle school band director as well as lecturer for universities in the field
of instrumental music teacher education.
2. Within the most popular magazine among American school music teachers, Willson (1986)
is unreserved in his praise for the remarkable accomplishments of Japanese school bands.
It is important to note early in this book that the pedagogy of Japanese school bands is
utterly different from the Suzuki Method, an approach to the teaching of European
musical instruments that originated in Japan (where it was never terribly popular) and
was widely promoted in the USA and other nations, where it came to be erroneously
recognized as the Japanese approach to music education (Mehl, 2009). In fact, the Suzuki
Method is generally considered a form of community music education rather than an
approach for school music classrooms, yet even within the sphere of community music it is
clear that for the past several generations the Yamaha School and its methods have been
much more popular than the Suzuki Method in Japan. More about the precise differences
between Suzuki Method approaches, the Yamaha School, and Japanese school bands will
be explained in later chapters.
3. See Abdoo (1984) for further discussion in the Music Educators Journal (p. 55).
4. See Cramer (1991), p. 8. Ray Cramer, former Professor and Director of Bands at Indiana
University, has conducted some of Japan’s leading wind bands. Timothy Salzman, Pro-
fessor and Director of Bands at University of Washington, is similarly complimentary of
Japanese wind bands, having frequently served as a guest conductor for Japanese wind
ensembles (personal communication). British conductor Timothy Reynish of the Guildhall
School of Music (a former President of the World Association of Symphonic Bands and
Ensembles) has also publicly indicated his deep respect for Japanese band repertoire and
ensemble performances.
5. These three statements are from various Florida school band directors. See Jenkins, Cook,
and Humphreys (2002), pp. 12–18.
6. Through a comprehensive review of music contests throughout the world, this author’s
dissertation was the first study to identify the AJBA competition as the world’s largest
music contest in terms of the estimated number of competing musicians. See Hebert
(2005), pp. 236–246, 408–411. As will be demonstrated in later chapters, 700,000 is
actually a rather conservative estimate based on scholarly restraint, for in recent years
some Japanese authors have used that figure as the lowest in their estimated range of
what the total number of annual AJBA contestants is likely to be (Togashi, Ishimoto, &
Bandou, 2007).
7. Music transculturation within the Japanese wind band idiom is discussed in Hebert
(2001a). The early history of Japanese wind bands is the subject of a Japanese-language
book chapter (Tsukahara, 2001). For broader descriptions of the development of Western
art music in Japan, see Wade (2005), and for East Asia more generally see Everett and Lau
(2004) and Yang (2007).
References 9
8. See Hebert (2005) for a comprehensive literature review (pp. 13–66), and detailed discus-
sion of research methodology (pp. 99–136). The Japanese government has restructured in
recent years, and this grant awarding division is now called the Ministry of Education,
Culture, Sports, Science and Technology.
9. Musical identity has long been of interest to ethnomusicologists (Johnson, 2010; Rice,
2010), and has also recently become a subject of inquiry within music psychology
(MacDonald, Hargreaves, & Miell, 2002). See Hebert (2009) for discussion of the identity
gap between music emphasized inside versus outside of schools, and Hebert (2010) for
discussion of ethnicity and musical identity. The theme of cultural identity is especially
examined in the final four chapters of this book.
10. Some of this additional research was supported by a grant from the National Band
Association (USA). Previous research among Japanese bands has included interviews
with the managers of professional wind ensembles and leading wind band composers. See
Hebert (2001b) for discussion of Japanese composers Hiroshi Hoshina and Yasuhide
Itoh. A discussion of some major findings from this study is also published in Japanese
language (Hebert, 2007).
11. Pseudonyms are used for the specific school, band director, and students mentioned in the
case study component of this research. However, real names are used in the history
chapter, and in description of Japan’s contemporary wind band music scene in general,
including important composers, conductors, associations, companies, and ensembles.
According to anthropologist Sherry Ortner (2006), ethnography ‘‘has always meant the
attempt to understand another life world using the self – as much of it as possible – as the
instrument of knowing’’ (p. 42). Based on extensive personal observations, this study
seeks to empathetically describe the world of Japanese school bands.
12. See LeTendre (1999) for further discussion.
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Wohl, M. A. (1993). The small town band director: A descriptive case study (Doctoral disserta-
tion). University of Oregon, Ann Arbor, MI: Proquest/UMI.
Yang, M. (2007). East meets west in the concert hall: Asians and classical music in the century
of imperialism, post-colonialism, and multiculturalism. Asian Music, 38(1), 1–30.
Chapter 2
Where are These Bands From? – An Historical
Overview
火のないところに煙は立たず
Hinonai tokoroni kemuriwa tatazu
‘‘There is no smoke without fire’’ – all effects have a cause
The end of the world, according to Christian belief, will be imminent when the
archangel Gabriel finally blows on his trumpet. Interestingly, it is also thought
among Zen Buddhist monks that enlightenment may be achieved through the
blowing of a single perfect tone on the shakuhachi bamboo flute – the ideal of
ichi on jobutsu – a venerable objective toward which many devote a lifetime of
focused efforts. These musical images from two different cultural traditions are
both contrasting and complimentary in nature, with their shared acknowledge-
ment of an eternally sacred relationship between focused breath, spirituality
and musical meaning, as well as divergence on whether such eternally resonat-
ing expression constitutes a music that is provocative and externally projected
or, alternatively, contemplative and internalized in nature. There are both
striking similarities and differences in the kinds of belief systems and world-
views commonly associated with traditional European and Japanese societies,
which is one factor that makes studies in the history of such cultural contact so
fascinating, and the role of European wind instruments in Japanese history
offers a particularly insightful window into such phenomena.
This chapter offers an account of the social history of wind bands in Japan
that includes a substantial amount of new information previously unavailable
in any language as a robust scholarly narrative. Very few publications in
European languages have focused specifically on the history of wind bands in
Japan, and these have tended to consist of extremely brief accounts and time-
lines of a few key events within band director magazines or other non-research
based publications.1 There have, however, been important books on the general
history of western music in Japan, but wind bands have tended to receive very
little attention within such publications in European languages.2 Japanese
language accounts of the history of western music, however, are particularly
insightful in this respect, and the role of wind bands within the early history of
western music in nineteenth century Japan is often fully acknowledged by

12 2 Where are These Bands From? – An Historical Overview
Japanese scholars, yet their development and influence in the 20th and 21st
centuries has tended to receive very little discussion.3 Based on painstaking
examination, careful comparison, and interpretation of an array of Japanese
and English-language documents – many of which were also triangulated to
data from original interviews with Japanese musicians and scholars – this
chapter aims to synthesize the available information into an accurate, multi-
voiced and transparent narrative.
2.1 Methodological Approach
The method of this chapter may best be described as historical ethnomusicology.4

Historical studies have been a major part of ethnomusicology for much of the
field’s own history, yet in recent years both the distinctiveness and significance of
historical inquiry are receiving greater attention from ethnomusicologists than
ever before. According to Bruno Nettl, ‘‘The number of ethnomusicologists
doing work of an explicitly historical sort has increased to the degree that the
term ‘historical ethnomusicology’ has begun to appear in programs of confer-
ences and in publications.’’5 However, Nettl has cautioned that not all historical
studies of non-western music are necessarily ethnomusicological, and that ‘‘his-
torical studies, to qualify as proper ethnomusicology, should relate somehow to
the central tenets of ethnomusicological definition – relationship to other cultural
domains and a view of music as a world of musics’’.6 Accordingly, the narrative of
this chapter considers musical practices in relation to the domains of education
and general cultural history, and interprets the case of Japan within a broad,
international-comparative perspective.7
This chapter evolved from careful consideration of how studies in the sub-
field of historical ethnomusicology, as well as related fields such as anthropol-
ogy, cultural history, and historical sociology, grapple with how to meaning-
fully represent the musical past in scholarship: both the evidence-based past of
empirical research and the remembered past of cultural narrative, both of which
may be quite important in rather different ways. Much of the data collection,
therefore, focused on questions related to how the history of western music and
music education within Japan is perceived in relation to the reality of what can
be empirically confirmed. Assuming that most of what had already been written
on this topic is accurate, the research began with some untested interpretations,
and several surprises were encountered along the way. Many widespread beliefs
and common interpretations of this history turned out to be rather different
from what may actually be confirmed, including such questions as the follow-
ing: What is the oldest surviving form of European music in Japan? How did the
first European instruments arrive in Japan? Who taught the first European string,
percussion, brass, and keyboard instruments in Japan, and how and where were
they taught? What is the oldest continuously performing westernized music ensem-
ble in Japan? What is the oldest professional European orchestral ensemble in
Japan? To what extent is it accurate to suggest that a particular individual may be
2.2 Chapter Overview 13
regarded as the ‘‘Father of Western Music’’ in Japan? For what reasons did
European instruments and music lessons become popular in this nation? How did
Japanese manage to produce the world’s largest musical instrument companies,
and what has been the role of music industry in Japan’s system of music education?
In what ways has the Japanese system influenced other nations? How and why did
music competitions become so popular in Japan?
History is inevitably interpretive and even subjective to some extent, but
conscientious and diligent scholars of the past are obligated to provide an
account that is as thorough, balanced, and accurate as possible given the unique
circumstances of each historical topic. It may surprise some readers to learn that
the wind band history of Japan is actually a highly contested field, in which many
of the most basic truth claims and broader interpretations continue to be chal-
lenged and debated. This chapter was completed with a deeply personal aware-
ness of just how difficult it can be for some individuals with vested interests in
such a topic to permit open discussion of new data and alternative interpretations
that may to some degree contradict dominant paradigms and prior understand-
ings of the past. Still, most scholars recognize that historical narrative inevitably
evolves as much as humanity itself, and it seems equally inevitable that the
present account as well may someday seem rather outdated in light of new
findings that are likely to continue emerging with the passage of time.
Further, this chapter also developed from an understanding of the need to
examine historical documents with both genuine empathy and a critically-
comparative and probing mindset, constantly asking such questions as ‘‘What
did the writer of this document really mean?’’ and ‘‘Is this content convincing,
and can it be confirmed?’’ and ‘‘Might there be any plausible alternative expla-
nations?’’ Such obsessive questioning of sources and robust documentation of
the origins and contexts of data seem to constitute an essential aspect of the
considerable differences between the work of amateur enthusiasts and music
journalists (some of whom wield considerable power and influence in the field
of wind bands) and that of professional researchers.8 Research takes time,
requiring substantial critical reflection that ideally engenders the assertion of
credible claims which are open to accountability.
2.2 Chapter Overview
Since this chapter is rather broad in scope, it is helpful to begin with an overview
to introduce the terrain to be covered. The next section of this chapter will offer
a brief consideration of the mythical origins of wind music in Japan, which has
implications for cultural memory both in Japan and western nations, and
continues to play a symbolic role in this field to the present day. Additionally,
it discusses the earliest known European account of musical practices in Japan,
which may also be regarded as a form of mythology in that it was fabricated by
a fraudulent yet highly influential author. The next section discusses what is
known regarding the earliest teaching of European music in Japan, including

some wind instruments, offered by Jesuit missionaries in the sixteenth century.
Later, the role of Dutch sailors and merchants who traded with Japan through
the island of Dejima (or Deshima) is discussed, particularly its importance for
the earliest dissemination of nineteenth century European woodwind, brass,
and percussion instruments, as well as sheet music, band method books, pianos,
and even early forms of western military band instruction prior to the Meiji era
(1868–1912). Included is discussion of Dutch military drumming in Japan
during the Edo bakufu (mid-nineteenth century), in a narrative based on data
from documents as well as interviews with the current leaders of Yamagunitai, a
fife and drum (kotekitai) ensemble which appears to be not only the longest
surviving but also the earliest known entirely Japanese music ensemble to be
based on western models. Next, the prominent role of wind bands in Commo-
dore Perry’s opening of Japan is discussed, as well as the earliest known
instruction in European trumpeting, followed by consideration of the develop-
ment of the metallurgical industry in Japan and pioneering attempts to build
western brass instruments and form military bands. Finally, the narrative
reaches John William Fenton, who is sometimes regarded as ‘‘the father of
western music in Japan’’ and widely (but mistakenly) credited with founding
‘‘Japan’s first military band.’’ A realistic assessment of Fenton’s role is offered
in light of recent research findings, including discussion of the development of
early British style military bands, chamber orchestras, and Japan’s national
anthem, considered in relation to the contributions of his predecessors as well as
Franz Eckert and other notable contemporaries. Next, the central role of the
Tokyo ballroom Rokumeikan as a cultural center for the dissemination of
European music (from 1883 to 1888) is considered, as well as the relative
position of Japan during this period within the broader trends of colonization
and westernization across East Asia. This topic is followed by discussion of
Shuji Isawa and Luther Whiting Mason in the development of Japan’s early
school music education, which would later serve as the main context for the
institutionalization of wind bands in Japan. The narrative then shifts to address
the function of music within nationalism during the period of the Russo-
Japanese War (1904–1905), as well as the development of the earliest youth
bands, community bands, and school bands in Japan. The origins of Japan’s
oldest surviving professional western orchestral ensemble, the Osaka Municipal
Symphonic Band are also traced, based on documents and interviews with the
ensemble’s current managers. Next, the narrative shifts to a discussion of the
origins of what appears to have become the world’s largest annual music
competition in terms of the number of contestants (approximately 700,000
per year), the All-Japan Band Association national wind band contest. Across
various decades of the twentieth century, the narrative traces the development
and rising maturity of wind ensemble performance across Japan, as well as
relevant Japanese music organizations and publications, the wind instrument
industry in Japan, the national system of school music education, and the
blossoming of wind music compositions by Japanese composers. The chapter
2.3 Mythical Origins 15
concludes with discussion of the most recent developments in Japanese wind

bands, particularly within schools, as well as assessments of current issues
facing wind bands in Japan in the early twenty-first century, followed by
some surprising research findings and critical analysis of revisionary perspec-
tives regarding this history.
2.3 Mythical Origins
Music has long been an important practice in human societies, closely linked to
emotional expression, cosmology, and deeply meaningful rituals. According to
the findings of recent research studies, some Neanderthals and early humans
played bone flutes over 35,000 years in the past.9 Archaeological evidence
suggests that wind instruments may have been played in Japan from at least
as early as the Jomon period (1000–2000 B.C.).10
2.3.1 Wind Instruments in Japanese Tradition
In ancient Japanese religious tradition, wind instruments are associated with

contemplation, as seen not only with the hichiriki oboe and kagura-bue flute
found in indigenous Shinto rituals (e.g. kagura), but perhaps most prominently
within Buddhist iconography. The example of shakuhachi playing among Zen
monks has already been noted, but another important example is that of the
Tennin or Hiten, which are celestial beings (essentially, Buddhist angels) that
are frequently depicted playing wind instruments. According to Frederic,
‘‘Mostly they are dancers and musicians, and were widely used for the decora-
tion of temples and sanctuaries.’’11 In fact, these wind instrument playing apsara
(in the original Sanskrit) are iconic images closely identified with some of
Japan’s most prominent national symbols, including the Byodoin of Kyoto,
the temple depicted on Japan’s 10-yen coin, as well as the Todaiji of nearby
Nara, which claims to be the world’s largest wooden temple.12 The very earliest
mention of wind instruments in Japan may be found in such myths adorning the
walls of the Byodoin and portrayed on the grand octagonal lantern of Todaiji
(mid-eighth century), and even in recent years such symbols have served as
inspiration for wind band music by Isao Matsushita and other notable con-
temporary Japanese composers (Fig. 2.1).
2.3.2 Psalmanazar and Other Early European Accounts
Much of the very earliest information Europeans received regarding musical

practices in Japan consisted of fairly reliable compilations of oral narrative,
while other descriptions were outright fraudulent. According to one report
Fig. 2.1 Hiten at Todaiji temple, Nara
dated October 28, 1583, by Jesuit priest Alessandro Valignano, who had shared
European music with the Japanese, ‘‘Our vocal and instrumental music wounds
their ears, and they delight in their own music which truly tortures our hearing’’.13
In another early source, the Atlas Japannensis by Dutch cartographer Arnoldus
Montanus (from 1670), unidentified Jesuit priests in Japan allegedly reported
that at one point ‘‘there came fifty four difguis’d like Mafcurades, being the
Dayro’s Muficians, Playing on feveral Inftruments, as Pipes, Tabors, Cimbals,
Bells, and fome ftrung Inftruments, unknown to us.’’14 Unfortunately, it is diffi-
cult to verify the accuracy of such reports, since Montanus and his contempor-
aries rarely identified their sources with sufficient detail, but it is clear that
Valignano actually lived for several years in Japan. According to Englebert
Kaempfer’s account from 1727, a religious sect had been encountered in Japan
called the ‘‘Jammabus’’ who ‘‘blow a trumpet made of a large shell.’’15 These
may be among the most accurate and legitimate early European descriptions
of Japanese music, including wind instruments, yet there are also some widely
popularized accounts with dubious claims. According to ‘‘Chapter 31: Of
the Musical Instruments of the Japanese and Formosans’’16 of George Psalma-
nazar’s (1679–1763) descriptions from 1704, the Japanese had musical
instruments:
such as resembled the Drum and the Tabor, the Trumpet and Flagellet, the Lute and
Harp: But since the time that the Europeans came thither, they have learn’d the way of
making and using these instruments, which are now made almost after the same fashion
as they are here in England: For when they heard the Jesuits play upon the Organs, and
sing Musically after the manner of the Romish Church, they were mightily taken with
it, and inflam’d with a desire of learning the Art of Musick, which now by their industry
and ingenuity they have attained, tho’ not in perfection, yet to such a degree as
wonderfully pleases themselves; and therefore they commonly use both vocal and
instrumental Musick at their Marriages, Funerals, Sports and Recreations . . .
Psalmanazar’s English language book was also translated into French and
German, and he was frequently invited to give lectures on Japanese culture to
2.4 From Zipangu through Dejima 17
learned societies in the UK during the early eighteenth century, but was even-
tually exposed as a complete fraud who had never even been to Japan and made
up stories about it off the top of his head that were only partially based on
previous accounts. Additionally, around 150 years later, the following descrip-
tion of Japanese music was also widely read:
. . . a Japanese military band struck up merrily, as we emerged upon the open ground.
The music was beautiful but strange, the instruments, both stringed and tubular, being
unlike either violin or guitar, bugle, fife, or bassoon, but something between, and of
various, unique, and elegant construction . . .17
The above excerpt appeared in a book published in 1859 by Kinahan

Cornwallis that also turned out to be a forgery, but this time few were con-
vinced, and the book was rather quickly dismissed as an unreliable fabrication.
It is interesting to note that early depictions of musical life in Japan were tainted
by such highly subjective and even fraudulent accounts, and as will be demon-
strated, the task of sorting through the available information to determine
which interpretations are most accurate and balanced has remained a difficult
challenge even to the present.
2.4 From Zipangu through Dejima
Historians of Western music in Japan typically begin their narrative with the
Meiji era (1868–1912), since prior to this period, most traces of Western music
that had managed to reach Japan from earlier eras (church hymns, for example)
had all but disappeared as a result of a staunchly isolationist government policy
that later became known as sakoku (‘‘locked country’’). In The Music Review,
Robin Heifetz described ‘‘Hideyoshi Toyotomi’s prohibition and destruction in
1587 of anything that was connected with Christianity, including the banish-
ment of all foreigners from Japanese soil,’’ which Heifetz concluded ‘‘may, in
fact, be credited with the termination of the first history of Western musical
activity in Japan.’’18 Although this description appears to be mostly accurate,
there is strong evidence that some hymn traditions continued in isolated com-
munities, and Japanese were also occasionally exposed to European music
through the limited amount of trade permitted during this period of relative
isolation. What is known about the musical interactions between Europe and
Japan prior to the Meiji period, and what role did wind instruments play in this
exchange?
2.4.1 Jesuit Music Instruction in Sixteenth Century Japan
It is widely believed that the first European to visit Japan was Fernao Mendes
Pinto (1509–1583), an explorer and trader who arrived in 1543, and is credited
with introducing the arquebus, a kind of gun that would eventually become very
popular among Japanese militia. Pinto later befriended Francis Xavier

(1506–1552) and other Jesuit missionaries who had been particularly active in
India, and assisted them in setting up early Christian outposts in southern
Japan from 1549 onward. The Jesuits, known by the Japanese as Nanban,
would become the first long-term European residents of Japan, where their
purpose was primarily to convert the natives of Zipangu (Japan) to Christianity
rather than merely to trade, although many of their Portuguese colleagues
continued to visit for commerce.
Jesuit missionaries such as Alessandro Organtino and Alessandro Valignano
(1539–1606) used various musical instruments to accompany the hymns they
taught to Japanese during this period.19 The Jesuits were not fond of the
Japanese music to which they were exposed. Father Luis de Almeida, who
worked as a Jesuit in Japan for more than 30 years, allegedly described Kagura
performance as resembling screaming from hell.20 Fr. de Almeida, who is
widely credited as the first European to introduce early forms of Western
medicine, died in Japan in 1583 at the age of 60, and is memorialized by a
marble plaque that reads ‘‘Luis de Almeida. Surgeon and Missionary. The first
Portuguese who arrived in Nagasaki in 1567.’’21
There are quite conflicting accounts as to whether Japanese liked or disliked
the music shared by the Jesuits. Jesuit priest Alessandro Organtino, who lived in
Japan from 1579 to 1603, remarked that western instrumental music was not
considered attractive to the Japanese, and even seemed to hurt their ears, and
that Japanese traditional melodies seemed excessively abrupt and rather
unpleasant.22 According to a 1585 treatise by Jesuit priest Luis Frois, who
also lived in Japan for many years, ‘‘To us, the music of the clavichord, viola,
flute, organ, and docaina (oboe) are very sweet; To the Japanese, all our
instruments sound harsh and unpleasant’’.23 Although the role of bias seems
rather obvious in various parts of Frois’ account, this particular passage
appears to confirm that wind instruments were taught to Japanese during this
time, and that some responded rather negatively to the Jesuit music.24 Still,
Japanese may have gradually developed a taste for these strange new European
sounds, for Gill also reports that Organtino eventually concluded music could
be uniquely effective ‘‘as bait’’ to attract potential Japanese converts to Chris-
tianity: ‘‘Organtino was convinced there was so much appreciation for the
organ and other European instruments in his district that if he only had ‘organs
and other musical instruments, and enough singers’ he could convert ‘all of
Miyako [Kyoto] and Sakai in only a year’.’’25 The Jesuits also brought artworks
to Japan depicting musical instruments, including European trumpets, some of
which remained in Japan for generations. The painting ‘‘Coronation of the
Virgin’’ is one such example, a section of which depicts two trumpet-playing
angels.26
By 1600, Dutch traders (known to the Japanese as Komo) were also fre-
quently visiting Japan. It became increasingly clear that trade with the Dutch
was useful for Japanese in terms of opportunities to obtain new products from
Europe, and that unlike the Jesuits, the Dutch were relatively uninterested in
living permanently in Japan or attempting to change Japanese society through

religion. It is possible that the Jesuits converted as many as 300,000 Japanese to
Christianity, but by the year 1600, Christians had begun to face widespread
persecution. By 1632, Catholicism was outlawed, and thousands of Christians
forced to either renounce their beliefs, flee Japan, or be tortured and killed. It is
well documented that hundreds (if not thousands) of Japanese and Portuguese
Christians were brutally exterminated during this period, but some courageous
Japanese Christians also formed underground communities in the greater
Nagasaki area, particularly in isolated island regions such as Gotou and Ikit-
suki, where they continued their religious and musical practices in secrecy.
Across centuries of seclusion, the prayers and hymns of these Kakure Kirishitan
(‘‘hidden Christians’’) fused with indigenous beliefs and formed into a unique
syncretic tradition. Anthropological studies from as recent as the 1990s
described the ‘‘orashio’’ prayers and masses, and ‘‘hymns that are unique to
Ikitsuki’’ that were maintained by Kakure Kirishitan since the Jesuit period,
and these earliest surviving forms of European music have also served as
inspiration for contemporary Japanese composers.27
2.4.2 Dejima and Rangaku
The Dutch initially traded with Japan through the port of Hirado, a precise
location they had negotiated on an island by that name near Nagasaki. How-
ever, as persecution against Christians and suspicion toward foreigners esca-
lated, their trading activities were eventually restricted in 1641 to a tiny man-
made island called Dejima (or Deshima) in the port of Nagasaki, which was
managed by Francois Caron, of the Dutch East India Company (abbreviated,
VOC). For around 250 years, Dejima would serve almost exclusively as the
singular point of contact between Japan and the western world. Japanese were
forbidden from travelling abroad, foreigners were forbidden from Japanese
soil, and the government carefully managed international trade through this
single point of entry. Only Japanese traders, government officials, and prosti-
tutes were permitted onto Dejima for business purposes. Eventually, European
musical instruments, music method books, and sheet music would come to
Japan through Dejima, and European bands would perform on ships docked
nearby this man-made island.
According to Takeuchi, the only definite record of a piano performance
on Dejima is from an 1817 journal entry by Hendrik Doeff (1764–1837), its
Chief Dutch commissioner.28 Interestingly, the earliest known record of a
European woman ever living in Japan is of Titia Bergsma (1786–1821), who
lived on Dejima from August through December of 1817.29 A rather mysterious
sketch remains of Titia Bergsma playing a piano there, which is probably
the very first Japanese art work to depict a pianist. The artist is believed
to have been Kawahara Keiga (1786–1860), described as ‘‘a court-appointed
painter-correspondent on Deshima.’’30 This is now believed by scholars to have

been the first piano in Japan, and both Titia and someone named Bauer most
likely played this piano on Dejima. Takeuchi also mentions a later record of a
piano on Dejima from 1828, described at that time as ‘‘Horuto piyan’’ (for Holt
piano), which most likely arrived sometime after 1823 while Phillip Franz von
Siebold (1796–1866) was in residence.31 Although this piano is currently housed
in the Kumatani Museum where it has been described as the first piano brought
to Japan, written and pictorial records suggest that the piano played by Titia
was a separate instrument that had arrived on Dejima at least a decade earlier.32
Since trade with the Dutch had became the exclusive source of information
about the western world, institutes of Rangaku (or ‘‘Dutch studies’’) arose
especially during the late 18th and early 19th centuries for learning about
European ideas and technologies, particularly from manuscripts and new
items of interest imported to Japan via Dejima.
One of the first documented visits of a European military band to Japan was
that of the Dutch navy warship Palembang, in Nagasaki (near Dejima), in 1844,
although there is evidence that musical instruments had already been ordered
by the Dutch for trade with the Japanese in 1841.33 Takashima Shirodayu
(1798–1866), who was an early observer of Dutch military training in Nagasaki,
later initiated a reform of the armed forces in 1839 that included the training of
military bands, which during this time were largely modelled after the Dutch fife
and drum ensembles.34 Akiho Takashima, who lived in Nagasaki toward the
end of the Dejima trading period (mid-eighteenth century), became an impor-
tant importer of early military drill books that introduced military techniques,
including some musical practices, prior to 1844.35 There were two kinds of
military music used in Japan in the 1840s: (1) fifes and drums, and (2) rappa
(trumpet) playing.
A decade later, the arrival of ‘‘Commodore Perry and his black ships’’ in 1853
is typically lauded as the most significant event leading to the Meiji era, in which
the Japanese government would suddenly rush to embrace Western technology
after hundreds of years of enforced isolation from the rest of the world.36
However, information concerning Perry’s background, and his views regarding
music, is mostly absent from Japanese language accounts of this era.37 Commo-
dore Matthew C. Perry (1784–1858) was a renowned officer in the American navy
who had studied music as a young man and was very proud of the accomplished
bands on his ships. In a letter to his wife, he wrote, ‘‘I have my bands on shore and
they play two or three times a week. They have wonderfully improved and have
become the best bands in the Navy. There are two other bands in the Squadron,
but not to be compared with mine.’’38 Upon arrival in Japan, Commodore Perry
had ‘‘well-formed plans of negotiation that included, along with displays of
military and technological prowess, his chief cultural weapon: American
music.’’39 Victor Yellin describes Perry’s arrival in Tokyo Bay as follows:
A formal landing was arranged for July 14, 1853. As the Commodore stepped ashore,
the marines presented arms, sailors in longboats tossed oars, and the bands struck up
the familiar ‘‘Hail! Columbia!’’ The marines were followed by a separate band playing
as the procession advanced in precision cadence. Then came Perry, on foot, accom-
panied by two ‘‘stalwart citizens of color’’ armed to the teeth and carrying his flags of
rank and command. ‘‘More bluejackets and another band fell in behind him.’’ As one of
the Japanese officials, Kayama, later remembered, the procession ‘‘truly left us in
amazement.’’ Not since Columbus had there been a confrontation of two civilizations
so dissimilar.40
One interesting story that emerged from this early contact with wind bands
comes from the clerk of Perry’s ship Saratoga, who reported that in 1854 some
Japanese audience members enjoyed a band performance so much that they
requested to hear one of the pieces again, which upon further questioning
turned out to merely be the tuning up of the instruments prior to the actual
performance.41 This memorable anecdote illustrates a wide gulf in musical
understanding which was also mirrored by various reports of how strange
Japanese traditional music sounded to nineteenth century Europeans.
Although Perry is largely credited with the opening of Japan during this period,
representatives of several other nations had been attempting to do the same for
many years, and had brought bands with them as well. In fact, a Russian
military band is believed to have visited Nagasaki in 1853, around the same
time as Perry’s famous visit.42 Impressed by such performances from an array of
nations, by 1855, the Tokugawa government had selected 12 Japanese soldiers
to focus their efforts on learning military music from the Dutch.43
2.4.3 Music Transmission via the Nagasaki Kaigun Denshujo
From 1855 to 1859, the Kaigun Denshujo near Nagasaki was a school devel-
oped for dissemination of new knowledge, particularly relating to military
practices, shipbuilding and navigation, brought by the Dutch to Dejima during
this period. A faculty of Dutch technologists and naval officers taught their first
cohort Japanese students at the Kaigun Denshujo in 1855. A Dutch sailor
known by the nickname ‘‘Hefty’’ reportedly taught military drumming to a
total of 10–20 Japanese students at the Kaigun Denshujo.44 At this time, instead
of just trumpets, drumming patterns were used to pass important signals to
boarding parties of marines during naval combat. According to one account, it
appears that the other Dutch sailors poked a bit of fun at Hefty, who although
relatively low in rank, seemed to become very much respected by his Japanese
music students who treated him like a high-ranking officer while he taught them
using the kind of drum normally reserved for Japanese samurai.45 Shuhei
Hosokawa has determined that ‘‘Hefty’’ was merely a nickname, while Van de
Bergh and Van de Cook are actual names believed to be associated with
instructors at the Kaigun Denshujo who taught military music after Hefty.
Hosokawa also notes that one of the Dutch officers was reportedly impressed
with the Japanese enthusiasm for drumming and marching.46
By the 1860s, other nations had stationed military units, with their bands, in
Japan. There are records of an English military band in Yokohama from as
early as 1864, which was probably the first English music ensemble in Japan,
and according to Edgar Pope, ‘‘when Count Eulenburg, the first Prussian
ambassador, arrived in Yokohama in 1860, he created quite a sensation by
having forty soldiers march to his residence to the accompaniment of a brass
band.’’47 Additionally, a broader awareness of how military bands functioned
in government-related rituals in Europe and America was spreading in Japan at
this time. Shive has documented how in 1860, band concerts were observed by
Japanese government officials in major American cities, including:
. . . some of the outstanding bands of the day, such as the United States Marine Band,
Beck’s Band, the Seventh Regimental Band, and Dodworth’s Band. These organiza-
tions welcomed, escorted, and serenaded the honored visitors with national airs and
selections from some of the most popular operas of the time. Several composers wrote
new works to honor the visiting officials.48
According to Galliano, ‘‘In 1866 the daimyo of Fukui asked the French
ambassador for an instructor to teach military music to his soldiers. In 1867
Tokugawa Yoshinobu, Japan’s last shogun, sent thirty-two men from his army
to study military music and one of these subsequently became the instructor of
the imperial orchestra.’’49 According to Rikurou Hiyama, records indicate that
by 1866 wind instruments were used widely in Japanese military bands, and the
demand led to the emergence of specialist trumpet-makers such that by 1884
trumpets were even being made in an Osaka factory called Houhei Kosho.50
During this period of less than 20 years, the roots of the brass instrument
industry became largely established in Japan, but the story of how this came
about is little known in Japan and elsewhere.
2.4.4 Metallurgy, Early Trumpet Instruction, and Guttig’s Dream
By the mid-1860s, trumpet was a well-known instrument in Japan.51 Trumpets

had been imported earlier from Holland by Takashima, and from France by a
French officer residing in Japan named Guttig.52 It appears that Guttig was the
most significant early trumpet instructor in Japan during the 1860s. Guttig
founded the College Franco-Japonais during this time, and also attempted to
develop an iron works and thereby increase the economic and cultural influence
of France within Japan.53 According to various letters, Guttig explicitly
requested French music specialists to come to Japan in the 1860s in order to
form an entire professional band. Despite detailed requests, only ten regular
soldiers and five officers were sent, of whom just one could play trumpet.
Although he evidently failed to attain his dream of establishing a full band in
Japan, Guttig is nevertheless credited with pioneering the systematic instruction
of western music to Japanese, and for helping to popularize brass instruments
by the year 1867. French military drill books were also imported around this
time (1867–1868).54 Primary sources confirm that skilled professional Japanese
trumpet makers were already identifiable by 1872, which suggests that they
must have already been producing such instruments for several years. One
reason Japanese were able to so quickly master the production of brass instru-
ments during this period surely was their previous mastery of swordmaking and
other complex metallic arts, of which Japanese work was already long
renowned as some of the finest in the world. Moreover, according to Reed’s
account based on a visit to Japan in 1879, the ‘‘beautiful machinery of the
imperial mint’’ in Osaka was already quite impressive, and the level of metal-
lurgical and manufacturing workmanship ‘‘could hardly, if at all, be matched by
other people.’’55 Japanese were thus able to quickly adapt industrial models
from abroad. The early importance of trumpets is vividly illustrated in Naka-
mura’s discussion of the acclaimed craftsmanship of professional Japanese
trumpet maker, Tomigoro during the early Meiji period. According to Naka-
mura, there were already several skilled European instrument makers in Japan
just prior to the twentieth century, some of whom specialized in the construc-
tion of brass instruments. Specifically, Nakamura cites a letter dated 1872, in
which trumpets are ordered from Tomigoro, who is described in the letter as a
particularly skilled maker of western trumpets.56 By 1901, a highly advanced
and productive facility, the Yahata Ironworks, had been established and mod-
ern shipbuilding was already thriving. The broader significance of metallurgy
and industrialization for music and its social context was also vividly illustrated
by a performance in 1872 by Japanese musicians on brass instruments, as
members of Japan’s Naval Band at the opening of nation’s first railway, for
which the Emperor was also present.57
2.4.5 Yamagunitai: Japan’s Oldest Westernized Band
Returning to the Nagasaki Kaigun Denshujo for a moment, it is important to

keep in mind that several Japanese military bands were spawned by the instruc-
tion received from Dutch officers at this important military training institute
and related sites. Rather than becoming associated with national institutions,
many of these bands were eventually adopted by local communities.58 At least
one such ensemble continues performing this music to the present day, although
it has gradually taken on new connotations and even come to be mistakenly
regarded as indigenous (non-westernized) music in the context of Japanese
festivals. Recent research has acknowledged four examples of kotekitai (fife
and drum) ensembles with roots traceable to the original Tokugawa Dutch
bands that have to some extent been maintained to the present in Kagura
traditions (Shinto shrine music): (1) the Yamagunitai in Kyoto, (2) the Nishi-
mashitamachi Kotekitai of Jin, (3) the Kamiyamahan Kotekitai, and (4) the
Tendo Ishin Gungakutai (from Tendo city, Yamagata prefecture).59 Common-
alities may be found among all four of these groups in terms of similar rhythmic
patterns and melody types that to varying degrees may be traceable to Dutch
military music. According to Yasuto Okunaka, the Yamagunitai (founded in
1868) is the oldest kotekitai that has remained active in Japan, although there is
at least one revival ensemble that claims older roots, and the Yamagunitai’s
direct lineage to Dutch military music is especially striking. The Yamagunitai
may therefore be acknowledged as the oldest known westernized ensemble to
have remained continuously active in Japan.60 The ensemble was formed during
the Boshin War (1868–1969), and performed for the first Jidai Matsuri (festival)
in Kyoto in 1895, the same year the Heian Jingu (shrine) was built, which are
regarded as among the very most important traditional festivals and shrines in
Fig. 2.2 Yamagunitai notation

2.5 Music Westernization in the Meiji Restoration 25
all of Japan. However, according to Nakamura, by 1919, the Yamagunitai

ceased participating in the festival for three reasons: (1) expenses, since the
trip to Kyoto took 2 or 3 days by foot, (2) schedule, since the festival is held in
October, an important time for farming, and (3) the original members had died
away, and the younger members had other wishes. Instead, the Yamagunitai
have continued performing for local events in their secluded mountain commu-
nity, several miles from Kyoto. The Yamagunitai perform on snare drums
introduced by the Dutch, and some of the melodies they play on fifes may
also be traceable to European traditions. Even in its rehearsals, the Yamagu-
nitai has continued through the twenty-first century to ‘‘count off’’ its rhythms
using the phrase ‘‘entei,’’ a Japanese pronunciation of the terms ‘‘een-twee,’’
which mean ‘‘one-two’’ in Dutch.61 The Yamagunitai has used a specialized
form of music notation to represent its drumming patterns. Pictured is an
example of a musical score still used by Yamagunitai, supplied by the band’s
leaders during an interview in 2009 with the author62 (Fig. 2.2).
2.5 Music Westernization in the Meiji Restoration
‘‘Wakan yosai,’’ meaning ‘‘Japanese spirit, western leaning’’ was a phrase popu-
larized at the start of the Meiji Era (1868), which seems to effectively sum up the
spirit of the times. This was a very tumultuous period of enormous change,
during which Japan suddenly embraced westernization with enthusiasm after a
quarter millennium of isolationist government policy. Japanese were permitted
to travel abroad and many American and European experts were sought out to
live in Japan as consultants for development of the military, industry, and
education. The Meiji government was determined that Japan would quickly
catch up with the rest of the world, yet many Japanese were also cautious
regarding westernization and expressed concern that Japan must strive to
maintain its unique traditions and cultural identity despite the apparent need
for rapid change. Fueling much of this sense of urgency was a widespread
recognition that Japan was militarily inferior to many European nations, and
that Europeans were already colonizing much of the world, including Asia.
Therefore, considerable attention was devoted to determining which nations
were best at particular practices that could serve as useful models for Japan in
its modernization. Germany, the USA, France, England, and other nations
each appeared to have different strengths from the perspective of the Japanese,
and the most urgent task appeared to be the strengthening of Japan’s military.
For such reasons, military units from several different nations were permitted to
take residence in Japan from the 1860s onward, many of which maintained
military bands that also became an important model for Japanese musicians. By
1872, the modern school system was already established through the Gakusei, or
Fundamental Code of Education, and by 1886 music would become a manda-
tory subject in Japanese schools.
2.5.1 Fenton’s Legacy
For many years, historians appear to have agreed upon what was Japan’s first
Western-style band and first bandmaster, but these questions turn out to not be
as simple as they may seem, and the most commonly shared beliefs appear to be
somewhat mistaken or at least overly-simplistic regarding this point. As already
indicated, Western music had entered Japan in the sixteenth century (when
wind instruments such as the flute and docaina oboe were taught by Jesuit
missionaries such as Alessandro Organtino and Alessandro Valignano), and
some of these hymns were never completely eliminated in a few isolated areas
near Nagasaki, including communities on the islands of Gotoushima and
Ikitsuki. Through the early nineteenth century, various western musical instru-
ments, including pianos (such as the one played by Bauer and Titia Bergsma on
Dejima) and wind and percussion instruments (such as those brought on Dutch
ships like the Pelembang) continued to be imported to Japan, along with sheet
music and music instruction books (including Eikoku kotekifu, popular in
Japan by 1865) via Dutch traders at Dejima, even during this period in which
Japan was mostly isolated from the rest of the world. There is even strong
evidence that Hefty and other Dutch sailors taught military music at the Kaigun
Denshujo (1855–1859). As depicted in ukiyoe artworks, bands from several
European nations, including Russia, the Netherlands, England, and the USA
had visited Japan and performed from the harbor of Nagasaki among other
locations. Additionally, trumpet was taught by Guttig and other French mili-
tary officers, and possibly the Dutch as well, to the extent that trumpet was
already well-known in Japan by the 1860s. Moreover, military letters indicate
that an expert wind band was explicitly requested from France by Guttig, but
some resources for that band were ultimately denied by his superior officers. It
is also evident that trumpet making had rapidly become a specialized profession
during this period, such that by 1872 Tomigoro had already established a
reputation as an expert Japanese trumpet maker. Clearly, the conditions were
already fully in place for development of westernized military bands in Japan,
so it comes as no surprise that various bands had formed by the 1860s, including
the Yamagunitai (established in 1868), which continues to perform its Dutch
military-inspired music even to the present day.
However, in the only doctoral dissertation on modern Japanese wind bands
to be produced prior to my own, its author Yoshihiro Obata wrote, ‘‘In 1869 the
first Japanese band was formed at Yokosuka Naval Base near Yokohama. John
William Fenton, an English bandmaster, was hired to train and lead the band.
At the time, Fenton was attached to the English Consulate in Yokohama. The
band numbered twenty-nine in the beginning.’’63 Within various articles and
public speeches, prominent Japanese band leader and amateur historian Toshio
Akiyama has also frequently described this same ensemble as the ‘‘first Japanese
military band,’’ and referred to Fenton as ‘‘Japan’s first bandmaster,’’ while the
newspaper Yomiuri Shinbun recently described Fenton as ‘‘the father of wind
band music.’’64 This may partly be attributed to mere semantics, since according
to various reports, many Japanese musicians appear to have not recognized
differences between wind ensembles and brass bands, or in Japanese, suisogaku
and buraban, and some definitions of related terms (gungakutai, kotekitai,
ongakudan, etc.) have also evolved across time.65 Moreover, in any language,
a phrase such as ‘‘first military band’’ can be taken to mean either the very first
band to perform military style music, or the first band to be officially associated
with a particular military organization. Still, even with these points in mind
some of the aforementioned claims seem dubious, so this situation raises several
questions that call for detailed discussion: (1) Who was Fenton, (2) what was
this wind band that Fenton formed, (3) why is it assumed to be the first band in
Japan, and (4) and how do historians know any details about these matters?
Fenton had arrived in Yokohama, Japan in 1868, at the dawn of the Meiji era,
to continue serving in his role as bandmaster of Britain’s 10th Foot Regiment,
First Battalion. While working in Yokohama, Fenton’s band attracted atten-
tion, but as discussed earlier, there were also several other visiting bands from
other European nations around this time in Yokohama and other cities.
Although much of his battalion returned to Britain in 1871, Fenton remained
in Japan through 1877 as a conductor for various Japanese bands, including
both the musicians of the imperial court and an ensemble that would become
Japan’s naval band.
It is now evident that nearly all the data cited by Japanese historians
regarding Fenton’s band of Japanese musicians is originally derived from a
single brief article in an English language newspaper entitled The Far East,
published in Yokohama, Japan, in 1870.66 This article describes the experiences
of a newspaper reporter who visited the ‘‘Sintoo temple Mio-kioji’’ in Yoko-
hama to photograph its bell, but was surprised to encounter ‘‘the discordant
sounds of instruments – bugles and flutes, as it seemed many in number, and all
playing a different tune,’’ later identified as sounds produced by ‘‘young Japa-
nese, most of them within the temple building, practicing English tunes and
military calls, on fifes, bugles and even calvary trumpets.’’ A caption describing
the band in this article is labelled ‘‘Prince Satsuma’s Band-Buglers, fifers and
Drummers.’’67 Readers should note that the article does not explicitly describe
this band as ‘‘the first band in Japan’’ nor ‘‘the first Japanese band,’’ for either
claim would have been inaccurate. The band is described as comprising ‘‘around
30 youths’’ who played on fifes and bugles, much like other bands during that
period. Their music is described as ‘‘bugle calls’’ and ‘‘easy tunes on the fife,’’
and it is performed on instruments that are ‘‘not perfectly in tune’’ and ‘‘made in
Japan – not on scientific principles by scientific instrument makers, by mere
tuners and copper workers, imitating models given to them.’’ According to the
article, ‘‘Mr. Fenton, the band-master of H.M. 1st batt. 10th Regiment’’ was
teaching the band ‘‘twice a day,’’ and instruments ordered for the band were
expected to arrive shortly from London, such that ‘‘within 3 months of their
arrival, Fenton expects his pupils will be fit for public performances of easy
music.’’68 In other words, it appears that the band was working on very basic
rudiments, still produced ‘‘discordant sounds,’’ and was not expected by Fenton
to be ready to perform until the Autumn of 1870. The reporter had accidentally
discovered the band rehearsing and thought it would be worth writing a bit
about, but this was clearly never intended to be a widely-cited announcement
regarding an important new artistic development. Still, it is quite possible that
this was the first newspaper article on a western music ensemble comprised of
Japanese musicians.69
By 1871, the Japanese Army and Navy had become separate entities. Fenton
was placed in charge of the Navy band, while the Army band hired Gustave
Charles Desire Dagron from France as its leader.70 However, despite a sweep-
ing trend of fascination with Europe and the USA, the lingering xenophobic
tendencies of Japanese society would not allow for foreigners to remain in such
positions of power for any longer than necessary. As Obata observed, the
Japanese Army band ‘‘felt the need to give the future leadership to its country-
men; therefore, in 1882, Hiromasa Furuya and Teiji Kudo were sent to the
Conservatory of Paris. After 7 years both men finished their schooling and
returned to Japan in 1889. A year later, Furuya was made Director of the Army
Band.’’71
Although early Japanese bands were influenced by models from diverse
European nations (including the Netherlands, England, Germany, and
France), military bands had already become fairly standardized throughout
Europe by this period, resulting in few problems for Japanese bands in accom-
modating for minor differences among their instructors’ approaches and var-
ious tuning systems. As Boonzajer Flaes observed, ‘‘After the middle of the
nineteenth century national differences in European military and religious brass
bands had become so negligible that in a short space of time the world was
inundated with a virtually identical musical formula. The idiom of the Western
brass band is one of the first forms of worldwide standard music.’’72
2.5.2 Origins of Kimigayo
The development of Japan’s national anthem is intricately tied to the history of

bands in Japan. And, as will be demonstrated, it has remained an important
issue to the present day. According to Obata, the Satsuma Band led by Fenton,
‘‘participated in a military review only a year after its inception. The review was
held in 1870 at Koshi-Nakajima, Tokyo, with Emperor Meiji inspecting the
parade. The band played Kimigayo, which was written for the occasion by
Bandmaster Fenton.’’73 Upon explaining the need for Japan to have a national
anthem, Fenton had apparently described the function and meaning of ‘‘God
Save the Queen,’’ and for lyrics, an anonymous text was selected due to its
resemblance, a 31-syllable waka poem taken from a tenth century collection
entitled ‘‘Kokinshu’’. Fenton’s anthem was popularized and performed in
various settings through at least part of the 1880s, and its words appear to
have been considered appropriate, but the melody came to be generally

regarded as an uncomfortable setting of the Japanese text. According to records
of the Imperial Household Agency, Bandmaster Fenton later introduced the
performance of European music to the royal court in Japan:
The records of the Department of Court Music in the Imperial Household Agency say
that from 1874 onwards members of the department started to learn Western music and
purchased Western music instruments. Thirty-five people were permitted to receive
tuition in Western music; instruments were purchased in 1875, and the department
employed John William Fenton, a British musician, as an instructor.74
By 1880, the melody of Kimigayo was thoroughly revised, guided in part by

German bandmaster Franz Eckert (1852–1916), who was probably the first to
transcribe a complete arrangement of the new version that was developed in
collaboration with prominent Japanese court musicians. Eckert had been hired
in 1879 as Fenton’s replacement soon after he departed from Japan.75 An early
version with Eckert listed as its composer was published as ‘‘Japanische
Hymne’’ in 1888, however, the final version of Kimigayo, used through the
present day, only credits Japanese musicians. The text of Kimigayo is an ancient
poem that praises the Emperor, declaring in poetic language that his imperial
reign will last forever. Through the start of the twenty-first century, the meaning
of Kimigayo, which would become a required song in all public schools, has
remained an unresolved issue in a nation that had struggled to adopt demo-
cratic institutions from abroad.76
2.5.3 Iwakura Mission and Rokumeikan
Two other important developments during this period were the Iwakura Mis-
sion, which was a lengthy tour of the USA and Europe by a group of Japanese
officials and exchange students, and the Rokumeikan, the first western-style
ballroom to be built in Japan, where European formal dances were first popu-
larized, typically to the accompaniment of live bands. The Iwakura Mission was
a group of 110 Japanese sent abroad by the Meiji government in 1871 –
especially to the USA, but to Europe as well – for the purpose of fact-finding
and observations to determine what changes were urgently needed in order for
Japan to ‘‘catch up’’ with the west.77 Out of its 110 members, 60 were exchange
students, five of whom are believed to have been the first Japanese women ever
to study abroad. Umeko Tsuda (1864–1929) was one member, who studied in
the Washington, D.C. area where she learned to play piano, later becoming an
important champion of women’s education in Japan. Another was Shigeko
Nagai (1861–1928), who, according to Howe, received a Certificate in Music
from Vassar College, and became ‘‘one of Japan’s first teachers of piano. She
taught in the Tokyo Music School and the Tokyo Women’s Normal School.’’78
Nobu Koda (1870–1946) was another Iwakura Mission member who became
an important early violin teacher in Japan. She had studied in Japan under
Luther Whiting Mason and later pursued further studies in Boston and Vienna,
eventually returning to Japan in 1895 to become a violin professor at the Tokyo
School of Music. Shinichi Suzuki (1898–1998), now known worldwide for his
Suzuki Method, was one of Koda’s students. The Iwakura Mission had a
profound impact on the development of both western music and education in
Meiji Japan, since many professional performances in the USA and Europe
were observed by its members, and some even studied music intensively in the
USA, and its findings were widely read by influential educational and cultural
policy-makers in Japan during this period.
The Rokumeikan (often translated as ‘‘Deer Cry Pavilion’’) was a grand
ballroom in Tokyo that became influential from 1883 through 1888 for the
dissemination of European culture, particularly formal dancing. Military bands
often performed there, and salon concerts of chamber music were also fre-
quently presented, as depicted in many artworks of the time. The hall developed
a kind of legendary status as a center for introduction of the most glamorous
aspects of European high culture, and became featured in several popular
Japanese novels. Many of the most notable European musicians residing in
Japan during the Meiji period were reportedly frequent visitors to the Roku-
meikan, including band conductors Franz Eckert and Charles Leroux, both of
whom Hosokawa suggests were regarded by Japanese as highly trained and
relatively more accomplished musicians than their respective predecessors Fen-
ton and Dagron.79 By the late 1880s, balls were no longer held at the Roku-
meikan, and in 1890 the building was sold, but its influence in terms of the
dissemination of western music, dance, and architecture lived on.
2.5.4 Early Schooling, and the Mason-Isawa Saga
Henry Faulds reported that there were an estimated 30,000 common schools in
Japan by the mid-1880s.80 What kind of education was provided in Japan at this
time? Until the Meiji period (from 1868), the primary form of education avail-
able to commoners in Japan was provided by community schools called ter-
akoya, administered through local Buddhist temples. The terakoya mainly
offered instruction in the reading of Buddhist texts and the use of the abacus
for mathematics. Although these temple schools were regarded as primitive in
the eyes of some Europeans, they were actually rather successful in terms of
attaining high levels of literacy and mathematics ability across much of Japan’s
population, and it is estimated that about half of Japanese men could read prior
to the start of the Meiji period. However, opportunities for girls and women
were even fewer than in western nations (although probably no worse than
Africa and the Middle East), and the terakoya curriculum was sorely lacking in
knowledge of the world outside Japan and the Buddhist diaspora, which only
gradually filtered down from translations via Dejima.
The Meiji government set about developing and transforming its educational
system through a series of bold steps, beginning with the Gakusei, or Funda-
mental Code of Education.81 In Japanese schools, bands were not adopted into
normal classroom music instruction, but would instead become a very popular
extracurricular activity. Rather, vocal music has played a central role in the
model of instruction offered in music classes, a tradition that began with Luther
Whiting Mason (1818–1896) and Shuji Isawa (1851–1917) in the 1880s. The
complex relationship of Mason and Isawa has been discussed by several scholars,
and widely divergent perspectives and interpretations remain regarding these two
figures and the nature of their influence upon popular music and music education
in Japan. Relative to other nations, the model of school music that developed in
the late nineteenth century has changed little in Japan, and provides an institu-
tional context for the model of school bands that would later emerge.82
Today, a large statue of Shuji Isawa still stands beside the entrance to the
music division of Tokyo University of the Arts, a school whose graduates
include Japan’s most distinguished band composers.83 This is one of the few
statues of a ‘‘founder’’ that can be found among Japan’s national universities,
and represents an important symbol of how Shuji Isawa is perceived. Interest-
ingly, historical evidence suggests that Isawa was neither an accomplished
musician nor a successful music teacher, but such facts do little to detract
from his image as founder of Japan’s most prestigious music conservatory.84
Isawa was primarily a government bureaucrat with a keen interest in moral
education, a field he thought could be most efficiently promoted through the
establishment of a child song genre. While Isawa had participated in one of the
aforementioned kotekitai fife and drum ensembles in his youth, he was never
considered musically accomplished by his peers. Therefore, it was necessary for
Isawa to hire renowned American music educator Luther Whiting Mason (who
had been his teacher) to come from America in order to guide the project to
produce moral songs for Japanese schools.
Although he was not trained to a high level as a performer in either Japanese
or Western traditions, Isawa felt certain that Japanese music was naturally
inferior to that of Europe. In 1884, he reached the following conclusions (as
translated by Richard Miller):
The popular music of Japan has remained for many centuries in the hands of the lowest
and most ignorant classes of society. It did not advance moral or physical culture, but
was altogether immoral in tone. It is against the moral and social welfare of the
community. It is against the progress of the education of society. It is against the
introduction of good music into the country . . . While such music keeps its influence,
schools are of little use to the country, however numerous they may be; and education is
of little use to society, however good it may be.85
Although Isawa felt less ashamed of some of Japan’s most sophisticated

classical traditions, such as koto music, he reached the conclusion that European
folk melodies provided the most convenient and effective vehicle for teaching
desirable moral values to children. With the help of Mason, he set about produ-
cing what would become the shoka genre of children’s songs, which proved to be a
very complicated project under the critical supervision of the Meiji government.
As Masafumi Ogawa has indicated, the Ministry of Education ‘‘criticized the
selection of words in view of their appropriateness and gracefulness’’ and played
an active role in rejecting and requiring revision of any song lyrics for the shoka
project that did not comfortably reinforce government policies.86 Other books
later emerged, and many of the earliest Japanese school songbooks, modeled
after Mason and Isawa’s original shoka, were developed exclusively for the
purpose of inculcating patriotism.87 One such example was Nobutsuna Sasaki’s
popular E-iri-yohnen shoka (Children’s Songs with Pictures) songbook from
1893. According to Richard Miller, ‘‘Sasaki’s patriotic emphasis was gradually
taken up by government school songbooks in the twentieth century, becoming
the only acceptable repertoire by World War II.’’88
How did this child song project end for Luther Whiting Mason? When Isawa
and other Japanese government officials felt the project could proceed without
him, he was politely relieved of his duties. Several Western scholars have
credited Mason as a ‘‘founder’’ of the music institute that would later become
Tokyo University of Arts.89 However, his role is downplayed in most contem-
porary Japanese accounts, and only Isawa’s statue stands on the campus today.
What cannot be denied is that the Japanese children’s moral song genre – which
includes pieces used in Japanese schools through the start of the twenty-first
century – was known for decades as ‘‘Mason song’’ in Japan. Recently, several
scholars associated with Japanese universities have gone so far as to promote
the notion that Mason was not an accomplished musician, and even that he
went to Japan primarily as a Christian missionary.90 This situation has con-
tributed to the development of Isawa’s legendary persona, as the legitimate
Japanese father of Western music in Japan.
In 1886, music became a mandatory subject in Japanese schools, for which
textbooks resulting from the collaboration of Mason and Isawa served as the
curriculum. It may seem that this discussion of vocal music in schools is not
particularly relevant to wind bands; However, it is important to recognize that
much of the impetus for bringing vocal music into Japanese schools was tied to
the same motivations that led to the rapid development of military bands,
namely strengthening of the Japanese nation. Indeed, by 1890, one of the
songs popularized in Japanese schools was the ‘‘Song of the Imperial Rescript
on Education’’, which facilitated memorization of an ideology promoting self-
sacrifice in the interests of the state, one’s elders, and ancestors. Moreover, in
her discussion of Japanese popular music at the very end of the nineteenth
century Galliano noted that ‘‘a typical style was rappa-bushi (literally ‘trumpet
song’), and its effect was also felt on school music, as Western music influenced
the formation of the school curriculum.’’91 Indeed, for more than a century,
wind music with strong ties to military traditions has been closely associated
with Japanese school music programs. Before moving to discussion of the
emergence of community bands and school bands, it is important to briefly
consider the broader context of western music in Asia during this period, as well
as the rapidly changing identity of Japan from an isolated cluster of islands to a

powerful nation on the world stage.
Although Japan had remained mostly isolated prior to the mid-nineteenth
century, much of the rest of Asia experienced long-term contact with European
nations during this period that may be described as an era of highly exploitative
colonization. Still, other Asian nations were also exposed to what are com-
monly seen as a more positive side of western culture during this time, including
medicine, new technologies, scientific knowledge and industrial practices, and
even music. From as early as the eighteenth century, wind bands played an
important role in ceremonial state music, military organizations, and even
industrial organizations among European communities in nearby China, and
these ensembles were later adopted by the Chinese. Kraus has documented how
British Lord Macartney’s embassy in China during the 1790s maintained an
ensemble that included ‘‘a bassoon, two basset-horns, a clarinet, a German
flute, and a fife,’’ in addition to string instruments.92 The wind band regularly
performed during Macartney’s ambassadorship, and the embassy was fre-
quently visited ‘‘by mandarins of rank’’ who were described by Staunton as:
. . . allured by curiosity, and not a few by the European band of music, which formed a
concert every evening in the Ambassador’s apartments. Among these visitors was the
chief director of the Emperor’s orchestra, who constantly attended, and was so much
pleased with some of the instruments, that he desired leave to take drawings of some of
them.93
Kraus also described the Western merchants who first came to China as a
‘‘rough crowd’’ that ‘‘only slowly felt the need to add music to their expatriate
communities.’’ However, in 1879, ‘‘a municipal public band was started in
Shanghai by a German professor and six other European musicians. By 1907,
the band had become the Shanghai Municipal Symphony Orchestra.’’94 Thus,
across the period of around one century, wind band music was gradually
accepted in China, also leading to the emergence of a symphony orchestra.
Moreover, Kraus has determined that ‘‘by the time the Qing dynasty collapsed
in 1911, the warlord armies that salvaged pieces of its authority all had brass
bands, just as their officers copied the gaudy uniform of the imperialist
armies.’’95 Other Asian nations were also embracing European wind bands at
this time. Magnus has written about ‘‘the Military Band’s Sunday Noon Con-
cert on Waterloo Square,’’ in what is now Jakarta, Indonesia, an important port
for Dutch traders with the VOC, some of whom sailed to and from Dejima.
These concerts were described as ‘‘a favorite amusement of nineteenth century
citizens, to which all Batavia listened while strolling around the square.’’96
Additionally, Japan’s changing role in relation to its neighbors, due to rapid
modernization, is reflected in many song titles and lyrics of this period. Obata
has noted that bands were initially patronized by the Japanese government, not
for the purpose of artistic expression, but as tools of nationalism: ‘‘During the
cradle period of Japanese band history, most compositions written for this
medium were marches and war songs. It was, in fact, the policy of the Japanese
Government to encourage this in order to raise the fighting spirit of the

Japanese people, particularly during the period of the Sino-Japanese War
(1894–1895).’’97 One important children’s song popularized during the early
stages of Japan’s military expansion is ‘‘Ichigetsu Danpan,’’ used to accompany
a juggling game called otedama. Its lyrics are brazen and overflowing with
confidence, celebrating Japan’s remarkable victory in the Russo-Japanese
War (1904–1905). The song refers to Heihachiro Togo (1848–1934), who was
the Commander in Chief of the Combined Fleet of the Imperial Japanese Navy,
as well as Alexei Nikolayevich Kuropatkin (1848–1925), who was the Russian
Imperial Minister of War. Recent research has documented that 422 musicians
participated in the Japanese Army and Navy bands sent abroad for the Russo-
Japanese War.98
2.6 Emergence of Community Bands and School Bands
From 1893, an important early music periodical entitled Ongaku Zashi began to
circulate with a focus on brass bands. During the 1880s and 1890s, many private
companies asked military bands to perform for official ceremonies and dances
because they were the only ensembles in Japan capable of playing western
music. By the mid-1890s, various models of community bands were emerging
in Japan, based on creative adaptations of the military band music introduced
by Europeans. Among these are the jinta (informal street band) and shonen
ongakutai (youth band), which would influence the kinds of bands later to be
adopted into Japanese schools. The work of Prof. Shuhei Hosokawa is invalu-
able for understanding the development of these early community ensembles
and youth bands as a popular music practice in early twentieth century Japan,
and much of this section consists of some translation and paraphrasing of
essential points from his important publications.99
2.6.1 Jinta: Informal Marching Band
At the turn of the twentieth century, a kind of band unique to Japan known as
‘‘jinta’’ was becoming popular. By 1910, it is believed that Japan had around 150
jinta bands, which were very informal, mobile, and small ensembles of wind and
percussion instruments that usually played very simple versions of only a few
songs, typically embellished by a modicum of improvisation.100 According to
Hosokawa, The instrumentation of jinta was rather simple: Two drummers that
also played triangle and tambourine, a few musicians on higher-pitched horns
such as trumpets or clarinets that played a unison melody, and a few additional
players on instruments such as low brass, for example, who took the softer role
of background harmony (referred to as ‘‘nokori’’). The higher-pitched melodic
instruments often provided slight ornamentation and variation on the melodies,
a bit like early New Orleans jazz but with much simpler rhythms and elementary
2.6 Emergence of Community Bands and School Bands 35
notions of harmony.101 According to Horiuchi (cited by Hosokawa), when

good players offered this kind of ornamentation, jinta music had ‘‘really stirring
expression.’’ The songs jinta would typically perform reportedly included such
pieces as: Kimigayo March, Tekoku (Japan) March, Marching through Geor-
gisa, Hinode March, and the various kinds of dance music that had been
popularized at the Rokumeikan, such as the Quadrille and Two-step.102
According to Hosokawa, there are two notable stories used to explain the
origins of the term ‘‘jinta’’, either of which might be relatively accurate. One
suggests that the term comes from the distinctive rhythmic sound of cymbals
characteristic of the simple music by these bands: ‘‘jinta, jinta, jintakatatta’’
while another story links these bands with a town called Jin, from which it is
claimed that band performers toured to other communities in order to promote
the industries of their town, and thereby all bands of this kind became known as
‘‘the guys from Jin town’’.103 Generally, the jinta were regarded as very ama-
teurish groups that mostly lacked serious musical skills, and their music served a
purely commercial role, for promotion of products and merchants. In consider-
ing the reception of jinta music, it is important to recognize that Japanese were
not yet much accustomed to harmony, although harmony served as the basis of
nineteenth century European music. Compared to most western music, songs
played by jinta put relatively more emphasis on melody and rhythm than on
harmony and were fairly straightforward and sufficiently repetitive to appeal to
broad audiences. According to Hosokawa, ‘‘the common people felt that rather
than meager music, [jinta music] was a deeply touching thing.’’104
One influential early jinta composer and arranger was Tanaka Hozumi, who
had played in the military band under Franz Eckert at age 19, but later died in
the Russo-Japanese War.105 By 1935 the jinta were no longer regarded as
fashionable. Hosokawa attributes their decline in popularity to two factors:
(1) Violin was increasing in popularity and movie theatres wanted their own
orchestras by the middle of the Taisho period, and (2) Chindonya effectively
filled their role, and replaced them.106 Chindonya may be defined as ‘‘loudly
dressed musicians employed for advertising purposes’’ but according to Hoso-
kawa, the delineation between jinta and chindonya is not very clear. Nowadays,
Chindonya are still occasionally encountered on busy streets in Japan. They are
very small and noisy ensembles, often a duo or trio, that typically wear brightly
colored – even gawdy clown-like – costumes, and loudly play simple tunes on
the street for advertising purposes.107 As will be explained in later chapters, the
legacy of jinta may arguably be related to the kind of performance spectacle
associated with ‘‘pops concerts’’ among contemporary Japanese school bands.
2.6.2 Shonen Ongakutai: Community Youth Band
Although small and informal jinta ensembles were widely popularized at the
turn of the twentieth century, some towns also supported the development of
larger and relatively formal community bands. Certainly one of the oldest
Japanese town bands still in existence is the Ichinomiya Municipal Band. Estab-
lished in 1895, it is a municipal ensemble affiliated with a city near Nagoya.108
According to Hosokawa, the oldest known youth band in Japan was founded in
1894 by Shibano Ichigoro, and was commonly referred to as the ‘‘Jidou Onga-
kutai’’ (child band). Its members ranged in age from 10 to 15, one of whom was
Shibano’s own grandchild.109 The Jidou Ongakutai played a variety of music
from China, Japan, and Europe. However, the most high profile early youth
band was the Tokyo Shonen Ongakutai, founded in 1896. This band featured an
unusual instrumentation, including saxophone, flageolet, clarinet, contrabass,
cymbals and other percussion instruments, and apparently even some Chinese
traditional instruments. The Tokyo Shonen Ongakutai lacked sufficient instru-
ments to effectively play music requiring several musicians on violin, clarinet,
tenor horn or saxophone, but added an oboe that was able to cover some of these
parts.110 One of the band’s objectives was to develop reserves of young musicians
who could later participate in adult bands, and it thereby qualifies as an early
form of informal community music education. This band had a very active
performance schedule with as much as 36 concerts across one 45-day period,
far more than most adult bands at the time. They played at the opening of the
Hibiya Jinja, a major Shinto shrine in Tokyo.111 In 1907, the first Salvation Army
Band was organized in Tokyo (although the organization had already been in
Japan for a decade by that point in time),112 and by the 1920s, musicians
associated with Japan’s few churches were occasionally hosting bands from
abroad, including even a notable visit by Maori brass band in 1924.113
2.6.3 Early School Bands
Scholars agree that by the first decade of the twentieth century, commercial
brass bands had been fully established in urban centers, and were playing an
important role in Japanese community life. Such bands ‘‘exposed many Japa-
nese to Western-style music for the first time. The earliest commercial brass
bands, known as jinta or chindonya, walked the streets advertising everything
from makeup and toothbrushes to beer and tobacco.’’114
By the following decade, many department stores had developed community
youth band programs. According to Atkins,
[D]epartment store music schools provided free training for youths and employed them
to perform in or around the stores to attract customers. Many future classical, popular,
and jazz musicians graduated from these troupes . . . bandoya were an alternative for
musically-inclined youngsters who lacked both the social standing and the finances to
go to elite conservatories.115
Gradually, these models of community music became affiliated with both

middle schools and high schools as an extracurricular club activity. Western
2.6 Emergence of Community Bands and School Bands 37
music had been popularized quite rapidly in Japan, such that by 1909, Kikuchi
Dairoku (who became president of Tokyo Imperial University) was already
able to claim that ‘‘now you will hear children singing in Occidental fashion in
every village.’’ Yasuko Tsukahara wrote within a book chapter entitled ‘‘The
Start of School Bands’’ that Japanese school bands began in 1909, at a Kyoto
public middle school.116 According to Tsukahara, Kobata Kenhachiro, who
had retired as a member of the Osaka regional military band, taught the first
school band soon after it was formed.
Yoshihiro Obata, author of the only dissertation study of Japanese band
history, had concluded that Japanese school bands first developed nearly 20
years later than Tsukahara’s example: in 1928. According to Obata’s findings,
the first two school bands were the Furitsu Daiichi-Shogyo Band (in Tokyo),
founded by Yoshio Hirooka, and the Zushi Middle School Band (in Kama-
kura), led by Masao Nakamura.117 Regarding the first Japanese school bands,
Obata observed that they were offered ‘‘as an extra-curricular activity, as
reported in the case of the first school band and its director who ‘went to the
Army School of Music in Toyama, Tokyo once a week during the 1928–1929
academic year to undertake music instruction from the Army bandsmen’’’118
Japanese school teachers volunteered their time to direct these school bands in
after-school rehearsals. Obata observed that ‘‘Although band was not a
required subject, it was in the interest of State ideals, and thus participation
was endorsed by the Ministry of Education. By the time of World War II the
bands had rapidly multiplied through encouragement from the Japanese
Government.’’119
Regarding the role of such club activities in Japanese schools, anthropologist
Gerald LeTendre wrote, ‘‘From the earliest days of the Meiji on, one function of
middle schools or upper-elementary schools was to cultivate and complete the
character development of students. Clubs continue to play a vital role in
character development within the modern school system.’’ School band, as an
extracurricular club activity, would evolve into an important domain for the
character development of students, a process commonly referred to as ‘‘moral
education’’. LeTendre has observed that in contemporary middle schools, this
means learning to function as ‘‘part of a chain of command. One learns to
‘endure’ hardships for the sake of the group and to follow the orders of
seniors.’’120 Clearly, such a model could prove useful toward accomplishing
the goals of a militaristic government.
During this period of militarism, Japan’s oldest professional orchestra for
western music was founded, which happened to be a wind orchestra, the Osaka
Municipal Symphonic Band. In 1934, the Osakashi Ongakudai (Osaka Band
Corps) which had been an army-affiliated band since 1923, was brought under
the authority of Osaka City, eventually becoming the oldest surviving profes-
sional ensemble of this kind in Japan.121 Professional symphony orchestras
would later be founded in urban areas throughout Japan as the economy
strengthened. Following defeat, in 1946, this ensemble would change its name
to become the less militaristic sounding Osakashi Ongakudan, or Osaka
Municipal Symphonic Band. This band would provide an important profes-

sional model for bands throughout Japan, until its influence was partly usurped
in the final decades of the twentieth century – at least outside of the Kansai
region – by a much younger rival ensemble, the Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra.
School bands appear to have developed rapidly in urban areas in Japan, so
much so that by Autumn of 1935, the first regional competitions were held in
Nagoya and Tokyo.122 The largest band at the first of these contests (Nagoya,
October 6) was also its winner: the Toho Shogyo Band, with 26 members. The
smallest band at this contest consisted of ten members from Gifu prefecture. In
the second contest (Tokyo, November 10), school bands competed in their own
category. Among the judges were the head of the Japanese army band, the
president of what would become Tokyo University of Arts, as well as several
music professors. The Furitsu Ichisho school band won the first place award.
By 1936, Japanese musicologists Katsumi Sunaga and Hisao Tanabe had
reached the following conclusion regarding the development of western music
in Japan:
Western music will not be adopted by our people without modification, but rather that
it will be altered along lines more suited to our musical taste, and will become
assimilated into the very texture of our own native music. Today is the time of that
process of modification and absorption. A half century has passed since its introduc-
tion, yet the work has not been completed.123
2.6.4 AJBA National Competition
On November 11, 1939, The All-Japan Band Association (AJBA) was founded,
and on November 23rd it held the first national band contest in Japan, conver-
ging the Tokyo, Osaka, and Nagoya band associations. This coincided with the
celebration of what was then imagined to be the 2600th anniversary of the first
Japanese Emperor’s birth. Writing in 1983, one participant recalled marching
down the largest and busiest street in Osaka for that occasion, and noted that
even in those early years, some bands from all-girl middle schools gave quite
impressive performances.124
At the first AJBA competition, military and school bands performed
arrangements of pieces by Beethoven, Wagner, Rossini and Verdi, as these
composers were associated with nations then allied militarily with Japan.
Additionally, bands performed the following early band pieces by Japanese
composers: Magnificent Soldier, The Advancing [Japanese] Flag, The I Love My
Country March, Behind the Gun, Bombers, Warship, Assault, Burning Hope, Our
Army, Advance of the Wild Eagle, Departure of the Imperial Army, Emergency
Japan, Artillery Defense, and Vigorous Nation.125 At the height of military
conflict, and during the first few years of occupation, these band competitions
had to be postponed.
2.7 Japanese Bands in the Mid-Twentieth Century 39
2.7 Japanese Bands in the Mid-Twentieth Century
2.7.1 Bands After the War
During the American occupation, Japan established a new constitution (1946),

and enacted the Fundamental Law of Education (1947), which for the first time
officially guaranteed the right of all citizens to have access to educational
opportunities, regardless of gender or socioeconomic status. Bands again
began to take on an important role within Japanese school life, although their
ultimate social function was viewed as less militaristic in nature.
According to Tsukahara, ‘‘Before the war Japanese bands used Europe as a
model, but after the war they became strongly affected by American bands.’’126
The enormous span of time between 1870 and 1945 has even been described as
‘‘the period when everything to do with German musical history and culture was
very much revered’’ in Japan.127 This interpretation appears to be quite valid, as
is the claim that in the long term Eckert’s influence on the musical life of Japan
turned out to be much more significant than that of Fenton. Several notable
German composers taught in Japan during this period, including Rudolf Dit-
trich (1861–1921) and Klaus Pringsheim (1883–1972), to name but a few, and
even to the twenty-first century music by Germanic composers was strongly
preferred in Japanese music conservatories. The field of wind bands, however,
took a different path. During the few years of American occupation, former
Japanese military bandsmen found new ways to maintain their tradition. The
Tokyo Metropolitan Fire Band was formed by former navy bandmaster Seigo
Naito in 1948, and it soon was able to perform regular broadcasts on NHK
radio.128 The Police Band was founded a year later by Tsunemitsu Yamaguchi,
a former army bandmaster who had previously directed the Toyama Army
School of Music.129
The period immediately following World War II also saw the development of
an academic music scene that for the first time fully encouraged Japanese
composers to write large-scale creative works for the wind band idiom. As
was the case with the leadership of the Reichsmusikhammer under the Nazis,
some of Japan’s leading composers of this period were accused of having
enthusiastically supported the militaristic regime, and in some cases such accu-
sations may have had merit.130
From 1946 on, Fumio Hayasaka taught in the composition department of
Tokyo Academy of Music, where he mentored the development of many
notable wind band composers.131 Hayasaka also developed a reputation at
this time as the most influential proponent of pan-Asianism in Japanese
music composition, a nationalistic notion linked to Japan’s war-era colonial
worldview of a ‘‘Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere.’’ One of Hayasaka’s
students during this period was Toshiro Mayuzumi, who would later become
one of Japan’s most renowned composers of band and orchestral music. Haya-
saka’s colleague Akira Ifukube was also establishing himself by the late 1940s as
Japan’s most influential first-generation film composer, particularly through

his soundtracks for legendary filmmaker Akira Kurosawa.
In 1949, Japan’s first music education institution – originally founded by
Mason and Isawa – became the music division of Tokyo University of Arts. It
established Japan’s first college band in 1951, with trombone professor Masato
Yamamoto serving as its director.132
The 1950s saw the development of several schools of Japanese nationalist
composers, many of whom wrote for wind band as well as other idioms. These
included both Yagi no Kai (‘‘goat group’’ in reference to the Greek god Pan)
and Sannin no Kai (‘‘group of three’’), and the most notable band composers
associated with these artistic circles include Toshiro Mayuzumi, Michio
Mamiya, and Yuzo Toyama.
In 1954, Japan’s former military bands were finally resurrected as the Self-
Defense Army and Navy Bands,133 and in 1956, the All-Japan Band Contest
resumed.134 By 1959, the band movement in Japan was prosperous, and Japan’s
largest music publisher Ongakuno Tomosha started publishing Band Journal,
which continues to this day as a primary resource for Japanese band direc-
tors.135 By 1961, bands were already affiliated with 28% of middle schools and
52% of high schools in Japan.136
2.7.2 The Blossoming 1960s
According to Obata, ‘‘A period of great musical progress took place in Japan
during the years of 1962 through 1966.’’ Indications of this progress included ‘‘a
move by the All-Japan Band Association and an influential publishing com-
pany, Ongaku-no-Tomo Sha, to promote Japanese composers of band
music.’’137 Influential American band director and composer Paul V. Yoder
(1908–1990) made frequent visits to Japan to promote wind bands throughout
the 1960s.138 The renowned Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra was established in
1960, and the Tokyo Suisogakudan (Tokyo Symphonic Band) was also formed
in 1963, leading to greater recognition of the genre through professional-level
performances, particularly in the Kanto (greater Tokyo) area.139 In 1966, the
Tenri High School Band, directed by Kiyoshi Yano, participated in the annual
Tournament of Roses Parade in Pasadena, California. Obata noted that ‘‘They
had the distinction not only of being the first Japanese high school band to
appear in such an event, but also the first to perform in the United States.’’140 In
1967, the Japan Bandmasters Association was founded, modeled after the
North American organization American Bandmasters Association. Commu-
nity music education was also attracting unprecedented numbers of students in
Japan during the 1960s. According to Yoshihara, by 1959 the Yamaha music
education system had 500 schools, 700 teachers, and 20,000 students, but by
1965 this had expanded to 2,800 schools, with 5,000 teachers and 250,000
students in Japan.141
2.8 Recent Developments 41
By 1969, during Japan’s ‘‘baby boom’’, Japanese band directors began to

note a decrease of band participation among high school students, which
appeared to be a result of the extremely competitive university entrance exam-
inations. According to band directors, many students and their parents believed
that it was too difficult to study for entrance examinations and also perform in a
school band at the same time.142 According to Ouishi, the Ministry of Educa-
tion reforms of 1971 pertaining to compulsory club activities in Japanese
schools had a significant impact on bands. In particular, he noted that all-girl
school bands were rapidly increasing.143 In 1973, in response to the changing
situation, the Japan Band Association produced ‘‘A Guide to Middle School
Compulsory Club Activities’’, which was distributed to schools throughout the
nation.144 By the 1970s, Yamaha and Kawai had undoubtedly become the
world’s largest piano manufacturers and their community music school systems
collectively served more than 1 million students in Japan, but Yamaha was also
broadening its outreach to include band clinics in Japan as well as Yamaha
Schools abroad.145
2.8 Recent Developments
2.8.1 Through the Twentieth Century
Research has been sorely needed on the past 40 years of Japanese wind band
history. A remarkable degree of growth occurred during the 1970s and 1980s, as
the overall performing level of Japanese ensembles surged in achievement.
During this period, Toshio Akiyama, who had befriended a renowned and
highly influential American band conductor, Frederick Fennell (1914–2004),
was a key figure in the development and leadership of Japanese band organiza-
tions. In 1974, the American Bandmasters Association and Japan Bandmasters
Association held a significant joint conference in Honolulu.146 In 1978, the
Asia-Pacific Band Directors Association was founded, assembling band direc-
tors from Japan, Hong Kong, South Korea, Malaysia, Philippines, Taiwan and
Singapore.147 Such meetings facilitated greater international exchange, from
which Asian bands became increasingly aware of new repertoire and recordings
by the Eastman Wind Ensemble (led by Frederick Fennell), as well as other
innovative American wind bands. The repertoire of Japanese bands by this time
was shifting away from traditional marches toward increasingly complex works
of contemporary music for wind ensemble. Classic masterworks by Gustav
Holst and Paul Hindemith became increasingly approachable for Japanese
wind bands, and pieces by more recent American composers such as Alfred
Reed (1921–2005) and John Barnes Chance (1932–1972) became quite popular.
Professional ensembles such as the Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra and Osaka
Municipal Symphonic Band increasingly promoted new compositions and
Japanese composers responded to the demand for new music.148 Notable wind
band works were produced by several significant Japanese composers that
include Isao Matsushita, Hiroshi Hoshina, Bin Kaneda, Yasuhide Ito, Masa-
michi Amano, and Toshio Mashima, as will be discussed in detail later in this
book.
In 1979, the Ministry of Education issued a new ‘‘Course of Study,’’ stipulat-
ing that moral education (doutoku kyoiku) be taught in all Japanese schools, not
only as a separate subject, but infused throughout various academic subjects
and bukatsudo extracurricular activities, including school band. This resurrec-
tion of ‘‘moral education’’ was embraced by some as an infusion of positive
values into the school curriculum, but drew criticism from many educators who
interpreted the change as signaling a return to nationalistic policies. In recent
decades, Japanese school bands have often faced criticism from educators for
their links to militaristic forms of ‘‘moral education’’ that instill discipline but
squelch creative individuality.149
The 1980s and 1990s saw remarkable developments in the field of profes-
sional wind bands in Japan. In 1981, the Osaka Municipal Symphonic Band
moved into office, rehearsal, and performance facilities designed specifically for
the ensemble near the ancient castle in central Osaka, at Osakajo Koen.150 The
ensemble began performing numerous concerts from this location. In 1984,
Frederick Fennell accepted the position of permanent conductor with the
Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra. By this time the Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra
was frequently releasing professional recordings, at a rate comparable to any
major symphony orchestra in the USA or Europe. In fact, it would be difficult
to overstate the contribution this orchestra made during this period to the wind
band genre through its numerous recordings. Writing in 1989, American
reviewer Ron McDonald was unreserved in his evaluation of 24 Tokyo Kosei
Wind Orchestra recordings that had suddenly received distribution in the
United States: ‘‘The release of any one of them would be reason enough for
celebration; such a large and important series collectively represents one of the
major releases of the decade.’’151 McDonald even described the discs as ‘‘almost
an encyclopedic survey of symphonic wind music.’’152 In 1996, the Osaka
Municipal Symphonic Band also began releasing CDs, and in 2000 started to
produce ‘‘Live Performance’’ CDs, beginning with their 80th regular annual
concert.
2.8.2 The Rise of China
Meanwhile, another important recent development that began indirectly affect-

ing the field of wind music in Japan was the sudden surge of growth within the
sphere of western art music in nearby China. It is quite difficult to obtain
reliable data, but although the amateur performance of European music had
been relatively unpopular among the masses in China until recent generations,
estimates in prominent news media have suggested that at the dawn of the
twenty-first century there are nearly 50 million pianists in China and 7 million
violinists, while statistics for other western instruments are unknown.153 In the
field of musical instrument production as well, the situation is astonishing in
China, where ‘‘as of 2003, 87 factories made Western musical instruments,’’ but
by 2006, ‘‘the number had grown to 142, producing 370,000 pianos, one million
violins and six million guitars. China dominates world production of all
three.’’154 In a discussion with this author in 2005, President Nakatani of the
Kunitachi Gakki Corporation, an influential musical instrument company in
western Tokyo, indicated growing concern regarding the implications of Chi-
na’s sudden growth for Japan’s music industry. Indeed, in recent years the
production of Japanese music companies was rapidly overtaken by Chinese
competitors. Moreover, even in the field of performance, musicians from
China, as well as nearby South Korea and Taiwan, have matched and in
many cases even exceeded the high success rates previously enjoyed by Japanese
students for entrance into leading North American and European conserva-
tories and prominent university schools of music, although the presence of East
Asian students has continued to be more noticeable in such areas as conducting,
piano, and strings, than in winds and percussion, as well as voice and some
other areas of musical study. Still, one should be wary of the widespread
tendency in many fields across recent years to view China as a rising nemesis
rather than prospective partner. Recent developments among pianists also offer
high profile examples of how achievements may be shared, whether considering
the successful recital partnership between Lang Lang and Herbie Hancock, or
the 13th Van Cliburn International Piano Competition, where ‘‘A blind pianist
from Japan and a teenager from China won gold medals,’’ thereby, ‘‘making
history as the first winners from any Asian country. Nobuyuki Tsujii, 20, of
Japan . . . also made history as the first blind pianist to win.’’155
2.8.3 Recording Industry and Curricular Reform
Additional developments significantly impacting the field of wind band music

in Japan by the start of the twenty-first century were a sharp rise in support for,
and availability, of professional wind band recordings, as well as important
changes to the national school music curriculum. Leading wind ensembles such
as the Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra had produced hundreds of albums across
several decades, but other prominent ensembles were doing the same, including
the Osaka Municipal Symphonic Band, various bands affiliated with Japan’s
self defense forces, and renowned high school bands such as the Yodogawa
Technical High School Band, while the AJBA was also releasing entire series of
recordings from its competitions across several decades, and organizations like
Kyo-En were pioneering a series of recordings of challenging original wind
band works by Japanese composers. A visit to a typical music store (for
example, Jeugia in Kyoto, 2009), revealed a case of over 5,000 different CDs of
wind band music available for immediate purchase, only slightly more than half
of which were imports. Japan had already become ‘‘the world’s second largest
music market’’ in the late 1980s, and by 2002 was also boasting ‘‘overall sales of
almost 4.6 billion yen’’.156 What these examples clearly demonstrate is that the
field of wind music had become fully supported by industry in Japan, which
applies not only to the musical instrument industry and community education
sectors, but also each facet of the recording industry, from production to
marketing and distribution. At the same time, new developments in the field
of school music education were causing new concerns among both school music
teachers and the colleges of education charged with training them. Specifically,
from 2002 Japanese middle school teachers were required for the first time to
teach traditional Japanese instruments, which is something they had not pre-
viously been expected nor trained to do. While many western ethnomusicolo-
gists, some of whom had devoted much of their lives to learning to play
Japanese instruments, understandably were among the quickest to celebrate
this new development, those who more fully recognized the broader political
impetus behind these changes to Japan’s educational policy quietly expressed
other views.157 However, in 2009 came a landslide defeat of the Liberal Demo-
cratic Party that had largely controlled Japan for over 60 years, and had
recently enacted neoconservative educational reforms to emphasize patriotic
education in music and other fields. This development has left open the possi-
bility that some of the aforementioned reforms might be repealed by the
Democratic Party of Japan, but by 2011 severe economic challenges and a
tsunami disaster involving nuclear contamination had largely drawn national
attention away from these matters and it is unclear what the future may hold.
2.8.4 Contemporary Perspectives
Ironically, in recent decades, as Japanese wind bands had finally started attain-
ing wide acclaim abroad, the relevance of school bands ‘‘at home’’ has started to
be more actively challenged by Japanese music educators. Band scholar Katsu-
hiro Nakanowatari noted that because bands had never been officially consid-
ered part of ‘‘music education’’ in Japan (rather, taught as after-school activ-
ities, outside of academic music class time), Japanese school band directors had
to teach without the benefit of a curriculum and research base that would
otherwise have been generated by the profession. In 1992 he wrote, ‘‘I find
that since World War II school bands as a club activity have had to embrace the
contradictions of Japanese music education’’158
In recent decades, Japanese band directors have declared that wind bands are
facing a state of crisis, voicing grave concern about whether there will be a
future for school bands in Japan. At issue is whether the educational benefit of
such extracurricular activities is sufficient to merit continued investment in
Japanese European Yea r of

period era event Relevant event Key references
14,000 to 300 2000 to
Jomon Period B.C. 1000 B.C. Excavated flute dated to late Jomon period. East (1976)
Breen and Teeuwen
Hiten images (Buddhist angels, many playing wind (2010), Frederic
Heian Period 794–1185 instruments) popularized in Japanese temple art. (1995)
St. Francis Xavier arrives in Japan, establishes Catholic
1549 missions that begin dissemination of European music.
Portuguese Jesuit missionaries active in Japan; Teach
Azuchi- vocal music as well as wind and string instruments;
Momoyama Around 300,000 Japanese convert to Christianity and
Period 1568–1603 participate in western music. Ebisawa (1983)
First known record of Japanese and European
perceptions of each other’s music by Jesuit priest
1583 Alessandro Valignano, a missionary to Japan. Boxer (1951)
First known record of Japanese and European
perceptions of each other’s music by Jesuit priest
1583 Alessandro Valignano, a missionary to Japan. Boxer (1951)
Christianity forbidden and Jesuits gradually driven out of
Japan, many tortured and murdered. Foreigners will be
forbidden from Japan for over 250 years. Christianity
and European music wiped out except for a few isolated Turnbull (1995),
islands where unique traditions are maintained in secrecy Whelan (1992)
1587–1632 for centuries.
Edo Period 1603–1868 Travel to and from Japan is almost entirely forbidden.
Only Dutch merchants still permitted to trade via island
1609–1641 of Hirado, in Nagasaki.
Dutch banished to Dejima, a small man-made island in
Nagasaki harbor that serves as focal point of contact with
1641–1853 Europe for over two centuries. Nakamura (1993)
Arnoldus Montanus publishes observations from Jesuit
residents and other early travellers to Japan, including
1670 discussions of music. Montanus (1670)
Psalmanazar publishes fabricated account in several
European languages, spreading misinformation regarding
1704 Japanese and their music. Psalmanazar (1704)
Shipwrecked Japanese sailors’ accounts of Russia lead to Kankai-ibun in
1807 published drawings of western musical instruments. Kasahara (2000)
Bersma (2002),
Piano imported by Dutch and played at Dejima, evident Takeuchi (2000),
1817 from journals and Japanese artwork. Takeuchi(2002)
Second piano (a Holt) brought to Dejima, now at
1828 Kumatani Museum. Takeuchi (2002)
Shirodayo Takashima begins reformation of military,
1839 and promotes formation of military bands. Eppstein (1994)
Records of various musical instruments bought for
1841 delivery on Dutch ships sailing to Japan. Magnus (1942)
Brass bands on Dutch navy warship Palembang visit
1844 Nagasaki harbor (home to Dejima). Saeki (2003)
Akiho Takeshima active in importing guns and training Asakawa and
1844 kotekitai westernized military music ensembles in Japan. Maehara (2008)
American Commodore Perry (and Russian ships as well) Yellin (1996), Jansen
arrive in Yokohama with their military bands, depicted (2006), Kuwahara
1853 in great detail in Japanese ukiyoe artworks. (2008)
Kaigun Denshujo (naval training academy): Dutch teach
1855–1859 military drumming and trumpeting in Nagasaki. Fujii (1991)
Military band transcriptions (“Oranda-koku yori torai-no
ju tanhoru denshu seiyo-ho jindaiko-fu,” “Seijo kogun Eppstein (1994),
1856 kofu,” etc.) published in Japan. Hunter (2008)
First Japanese government visits to USA, including
1860 several observations of American wind bands. Shive (1994)
Military-related trade with Europe intensifies, including
1860–1870 the learning of military band music. Nakamura (1993)
1864 British military band first stationed in Yokohama Tsukahara (2002)
Newer approach to transcriptions of European military
band music (kofu, as in “Japan Mars”) published in
1865 Japan as Hoso Shinshiki Furoku, by Inukai Kiyonobu. Hunter (2008)
Wind instruments reportedly used widely in Japanese
1866 military bands. Hiyama (1977)
Fig. 2.3 Historical timeline of wind band music in Japan

Japan officially enters new period in which

westernization is rapidly embraced. Guttig and others
teach bugle calls and attempt to form military bands
Meiji Period 1868–1912 among Japanese. Nakamura (1993)
Yamagunitai (westernized military band, kotekitai) Nakamura (1994),
1868 founded; continues regularly performing to the present. Okunaka (2005)
Fenton rehearses Satsuma band featured in Yokohama
English language newspaper; Often later credited as
1869 Japan’s first military band. The Far East (1870)
Iwakura Mission brings several Japanese education
specialists to USA and Europe where they observe many Iida (2009), Kume,
concerts. Three of its Japanese girls were the first to Healey, and Tsuzuki
1871–1873 study piano in the USA. (2002)
1872 “Gakusei” (education law) establishes modern schools.
1874 Imperial music ensembles founded by Fenton. Kobayashi (2000)

Japanese musicians sent to Paris Conservatory to learn Obata (1974), Ogawa
military band conducting. First school music textbooks (2000), Okunaka
1880s produced by Luther Whiting Mason and Shuji Isawa. (2008)
“Rokumeikan Period”: Tokyo hall serves as central
location for dissemination of western “high” culture, Finn (2006),
1883–1888 including ballroom dances and art music. Hosokawa (1989)
First performance of European symphony in Japan Nakamura (2002),
(Beethoven Symphony No.1). First music keyboard Kobayashi (2000),
1887 produced by company that becomes Yamaha Corp. Tanaka (1998)
Hosokawa (1990a,
Youth Bands and Jinta emerge and are gradually 1990b), Hosokawa
1890s popularized; Jinta virtually disappear by the 1930s. (2007)
1895 Ichinomiya Municipal Band established near Nagoya. Sugihara (1986)
First opera performed in Japan, Gluck’s “Orfeo ed
1903 Euridice”, by Tokyo College of Music students. Mitsui (1997)
Russo-Japanese War: 422 musicians performed in
1904–1905 Japanese army and navy band units abroad. Tanimura (2005)
1905 Public band concert series begins at Hibiya park, Tokyo Hosokawa (2001)
1907 First Japanese Salvation Army Band organized in Tokyo
Hoshino Gakki (precursor to Tama and Ibanez) founded
1908 as music division of bookstore.
1909 First school bands founded in Japan. Tsukahara (2001)
Precursor to the Tokyo Philharmonic Orchestra (which
now claims to be the oldest and largest in Japan) formed
in Nagoya as an amateur ensemble, only becoming
1911 professional after WWII.
Takashi Hara (1856–1921) becomes first commoner
Taisho Period 1912–1926 Premier, increases democracy and foreign trade.
Asakusa Opera popularizes western-inspired operatic
1917–1925 entertainment in Tokyo. Galliano (2002)
Inazo Nitobe (1862–1933) becomes Assistant Director
1920 General of the League of Nations.
Osaka Municipal Symphonic Band founded, consisting
1923 of professional musicians from its inception. Hebert (2008a)
Precursor to the NHK Symphony is founded, Japan’s
1926 first (and most influential) professional orchestra.
Showa Period 1926–1989
Period of militarization and song censorship in Japan:
Patriotic music emphasized for wartime military efforts. Pope (2003),
1934–1945 Music by composers from Allied nations is banned. Galliano (2002)
1939 First AJBA national Japanese band competition held. Obata (1974)
U.S. Post-WWII occupation. Nationalistic music banned from
Occupation 1945–1952 school textbooks.
Composer Saburo Moroi leads design of new school
1947 music curriculum, emphasizing European music. Takeshi (1996)
1954 Yamaha School music training network founded.
1956 Kawai School music training network founded.
Fig. 2.3 (continued)

Band Journal is first published by Ongakuno Tomosha,

1959 becomes leading resource for Japanese band directors. Obata (1974)
Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra founded, later becoming
1960 Hebert (2001a)
Influential Guard de Republican band from France tours
8 concert stages in 6 cities across a 2-week period in Togashi, Ishimoto,
1961 Japan, and has major impact. & Bandou (2007)
Shinichi Suzuki initiates wave of international interest in
Japanese approaches to music education. Over 1 million Mehl, 2009;
1970s students trained in Yamaha and Kawai music schools. Kawakami (1987)
First major research (doctoral dissertation) on Japanese
1974 wind bands in English language. Obata (1974)
Nation at Risk report and subsequent research draws
1980s widespread interest in Japanese approaches to education LeTendre (1999)
Togashi, Ishimoto, &
1982 Adjudication crisis at AJBA national band competition. Bandou (2008)
1987 Internationalist arts patron Prince Takamatsu dies.
Japanese corporations attain global dominance in many
industries. “Bubble period” of economic prosperity in
1986–1991 Japan. Howe (1995a)
Heisei Period 1989–present
Takemitsu increasingly regarded as one of the world’s
most important composers; other Japanese acclaimed in
literature, architecture, and animation, as well as audio Richards and
1990s and visual media technology. Tanosaki (2008)
Period of economic decline initially referred to as “the Saxonhouse and
1991–2003 post-bubble era” and later, “the lost decade” in Japan. Stern (2004)
Kyo-En foundation supporting new Japanese wind music
1998 compositions is founded. Kyo-En (n.d.)
“Flag and anthem” law enacted, leading to controversies Aspinall and Cave,
surrounding enforcement of patriotic music education. (2001), Matsunobu
1999 (2009b)
Interest in European music explodes in nearby China,
with around 40 million keyboardists by the end of the
decade. New Chinese instrument manufacturers
suddenly outcompete Japan’s industry. Korean and
Chinese musicians increasingly rival Japanese on the Kahn and Wakin
international stage and gain even higher representation in (2007), Kluger
2000s leading European and American conservatories. (2008)
Revision to national music curriculum, promoted by
Hajime Minegishi, requires instruction in Japanese
traditional instruments at the middle school level. School Matsunobu (2009a,
2002 teachers struggle to accommodate this new requirement. 2009b)
First research study to identify AJBA competition as
world’s largest music contest, and to describe the
2004 experience of its participants. Hebert (2005)
Toshio Mashima wins unprecedentedly large wind music Mashima (personal
2006 composition prize at “Coups de Vents” in Paris. communication)
First reform of Education Law since 1947 emphasizes
2006 patriotism and indigenous traditions.
“Global Financial Crisis” begins due to deregulation and
widespread fraud among American banks and other
2007 financial institutions. Stiglitz (2010)
2008 and Fenton commemoration activities in Yokohama Yomiuri Shinbun
2009 sponsored by Japan Bandmasters Association. (2008, 2009)
20-year old Japanese pianist Noboyuki Tsujii, who is
blind, becomes first Asian winner of Van Cliburn
2009 international piano competition.
Fig. 2.3 (continued)
terms of time, energy, and financial support.159 Simultaneously, concerns are

increasingly being raised regarding the educational value and lifelong relevance
of wind bands in the United States and other nations,160 where such bands often
serve as the primary mode of instrumental instruction in secondary schools
rather than being an extracurricular activity. Some Japanese scholars have
identified social control as the fundamental purpose of such ensembles,
including sociomusicologist Shuhei Hosokawa, who wrote that ‘‘It is hoped that
school bands, based upon the model of military bands, will entail teaching that
results in order and discipline.’’161 Concerns have been raised regarding what is
perceived as an excessive emphasis on ‘‘moral education’’ in Japanese bands via
practices most commonly associated with military training.162 Among the other
current issues among Japanese ensembles are budget constraints and the
increasing development of an extreme gender imbalance in favor of female
students.163 However, it has also been noted that the Japanese self-defense
forces have responded to this trend by admitting more women into military
bands.164 Prominent Japanese wind band composers have also suggested that
the current organization of band contests, while positive in many respects, may
have some undesirable effects on Japanese music culture that require careful
rethinking.165 Since Japanese bands are little researched, the underlying reasons
and future prospects associated with many of these developments have gener-
ally remained unknown.166 The ethnographic inquiry in other chapters of this
book seeks to provide some tentative answers to such questions. Pictured is a
timeline offered as a concise mnemonic for the major historical developments
described in this chapter (Fig. 2.3).
2.9 Historiographic Issues and Revisionist Interpretations
In recent decades, various scholars have introduced new information and

produced reinterpretations of this history, some of which are welcome contri-
butions. While the three currently popular Japanese language histories of music
education in Japan provide little or no discussion of bands or such topics as
women educators and colonial music instruction within the Japanese empire,167
non-Japanese researchers have begun examining the gaps in knowledge.168
Some revisionist interpretations published in leading music education journals
and reference works contain unsubstantiated assertions that have yet to be
refuted. It may be necessary to call certain claims into question, in order to
ensure that the historical development of Japanese school bands is not
misunderstood.
2.9.1 Imada’s Historiography
Since 2000, Tadahiko Imada appears to be the scholar most actively publishing
in the field of Japanese music education. Imada is primarily concerned with the
problem of maintaining ‘‘Japanese cultural uniqueness’’ within Japan’s national
system of school music education,169 which he feels suffers the negative effects
of ‘‘counterfeit’’ nineteenth century European aesthetic principles and is
‘‘monopolized by Western culture, mainly American culture.’’170 Imada’s
2.9 Historiographic Issues and Revisionist Interpretations 49
position on this topic opposes that of most Western and Japanese scholars. For
example, regarding the transnational music industry Stokes observed that ‘‘one
can no longer talk in simple terms about ‘the West’ imposing itself culturally.’’171
Indeed, Japanese music educators were never at any point in history forbidden
from teaching Japanese traditional music in schools172 (which cannot be said
for American music), and in terms of the enthusiastic consumption of Western
music in Japan, it is necessary to consider the number of recordings performed
on Japanese manufactured instruments (Yamaha, Roland, Kawai, Korg, Iba-
nez, Tama, Casio, etc.), recorded on Japanese manufactured equipment (Hita-
chi, Maxell, TDK, Nakamichi, Boss, etc.), marketed and distributed by Japa-
nese recording companies (Sony, JVC, Columbia, Epic, Toshiba-EMI, etc.),
and played on Japanese manufactured audio equipment (Panasonic, Aiwa,
Pioneer, Sanyo, Sony, Sharp). While the lineage of many popular music genres
may be traced to Western nations, charges of an American ‘‘monopoly’’ or
‘‘cultural imperialism’’ are widely considered irrelevant to the case of music in
Japan.173 Similarly the present study clearly demonstrates that that there is also
insufficient data to support the interpretation of any form of Western ‘‘mono-
poly’’ or the equivalent of an ‘‘imperialist’’ system within the field of Japanese
wind bands.
However, Imada broadly dismisses any outside critiques with the convenient
claim that it is impossible for foreign scholars to understand the Japanese case:
‘‘No matter how the West analyzes the non-West, the European explanations
will remain in their own perspectives and interpretations, and the non-Western
cultural sophistication itself always exists somewhere else the European inves-
tigations cannot reach.’’174 Throughout his publications, Imada rejects tradi-
tional European aesthetic principles, yet makes no reference to alternative
Japanese philosophical traditions. Rather, through a series of articles, he has
advocated the application of every major movement of late-twentieth century
Western philosophy for rethinking the Japanese system of music education:
poststructuralism, postcolonial theory, semiotics, and deconstructionism.175
The potential incompatibility of these diverse European philosophical para-
digms is a topic that Imada neglects to discuss, and his publications also fail to
discuss specific implications his analyses may have for the actual practice of
music teaching in Japan.
Imada rejects the use of Western aesthetics within Japanese music education,
which is a valid position that may be philosophically defensible in a number of
ways. Unfortunately, he reaches this conclusion by promoting the nihilistic
argument that it is impossible to understand music of another culture since, in
Imada’s estimation, ‘‘the existence of universals in music’’ is unproven.176
Leading ethnomusicologists and music philosophers have reached the opposite
conclusion.177 Music education philosopher Wayne Bowman observed that
‘‘Foreign musical practices are seldom completely closed books to us, and we
do often succeed in catching glimpses of musical ‘sense’ even in practices with
which we are not at all conversant.’’178 As support for his unusual position,
Imada asserts that ‘‘Japan originally imported a European style of music
education as a product using their basic adaptive capabilities for survival to

offset American colonial ambitions,’’179 and the ‘‘Meiji Government despe-
rately tried to introduce Western imperialism into Japan for survival to offset
American colonial ambitions.’’180 Imada presents no evidence of how or why
Western music education would have been imported by Japan as a survival
tactic, and it is unclear how it would have served as an effective deterrent to
American colonization, had colonization been the intention of the United
States. The key point here is not to deny the trajectory of American imperialism
in the twentieth century, for which convincing arguments have been made,181
but to recognize that its relevance to the case of Japanese music education is
dubious at best. Imada’s application of this argument to the status quo is
remarkable in light of the conspicuous absence of non-Japanese (particularly
American) employees within Japan’s most influential public institutions for
music and education. Furthermore, in terms of curricular content, American
musical styles such as jazz and blues have consistently received very little
attention in Japanese music education, from elementary through tertiary levels,
despite very high levels of interest in these genres among Japanese. The minimal
space offered to American music becomes particularly evident as Japan’s
educational system is viewed from an international-comparative perspective.
In Thailand, or even the Russian Federation for example, students may major
in jazz studies at the finest university music departments (e.g. Mahidol Uni-
versity or Gnessins Academy). Not so in Japan. Rather, the greatest emphasis is
devoted to sustaining a Japanese reinterpretation of West European (especially
Germanic) art music from the classical and romantic periods, now more than a
century in the past. While Japanese music educators have consistently bor-
rowed ideas from American educational philosophy,182 since the brief period of
military occupation (1945–1952) there is a dire absence of reliable data to
support the notion that ongoing and systemic American manipulation of
Japan’s educational system is anything more than a popular paranoid conspi-
racy theory. Still, Imada presents his application of this theory in its usual form:
freed from the constraints of convincing evidence.
Imada continues developing his ‘‘Japan as victim of American musical
colonization’’ narrative with a claim based on a reference to Japanese popular
media: ‘‘Luther Whiting Mason was sent to Japan for the propagation of
Christianity. The New England Conservatory and the Meiji Government nego-
tiated this.’’183 This interpretation is refuted by Howe, who wrote that Mason
‘‘did not travel to Japan as a Christian missionary and was not sent by a
Christian organization. He was interested only in promoting vocal music in
public schools.’’184 While it is certain that Mason, like many expatriates of his
time, would have discussed Christianity with Japanese while living there (parti-
cularly with moral education scholar Isawa Shuji), it is unclear what, if any,
evidence might support the conclusion that he was hired ‘‘for the propagation of
Christianity.’’ Other authors have noted that Mason’s original employment
contract, and personal letters by both Mason and Isawa clearly indicate that
he was hired by the Japanese government for consultation work as a music

education specialist.185
Imada’s interpretation of Japanese music education as oppressed by Amer-
ican influences is also contradicted by the work of senior Japanese music
educationists. For example, Miyoshi wrote, ‘‘After World War II and during
the American occupation, control of education by a very centralised Ministry
diminished, but in the 1950s, there was a reaction against the ‘Americanisation’,
which had promoted local governments, and the Ministry of Education began
to reassert control. This included strengthening the standard of the ‘course of
study,’ authorising all school textbooks and reducing the number of elective
subjects in junior high school.’’186 Miyoshi, who personally witnessed this
process during his lifetime, identifies the sources of the trend toward educa-
tional centralization not in American ‘‘colonial’’ practices, but rather, with the
antidemocratic tendencies of Japan’s indigenous bureaucracy. This process is
similarly interpreted by both Western and Japanese social scientists.187
Miyoshi further acknowledged, ‘‘After the war, music education included the
new Japanese music created during the Meiji period, but more and more
Western music has taken over the primary position, leading many to seek
ways in which Japanese music can be re-emphasised.’’188 Again, this statement
contradicts Imada’s interpretations, suggesting that the current emphasis on
Western music in Japan developed not as a result of some form of colonization,
such as when Taiwanese and Korean students were forced by their colonizers to
sing patriotic songs glorifying the Japanese Emperor,189 but rather, was pro-
moted by the personal tastes of Japanese bureaucrats. The most notable gov-
ernment officer in this regard is composer Saburo Moroi (1903–1977), who had
studied in Nazi Germany and was the key individual responsible for the design
of Japan’s post-war music curriculum. Additionally, since the beginning of
public school education in Japan, the religious connotations and adult themes
associated with much of Japan’s traditional music have concerned Japanese
educators, and the appropriate role of this music within the school curriculum
was debated throughout the twentieth century.190 It is only with the recent
emphasis on multicultural education in Western nations (such as the United
States) that Japanese educators have generally reached a consensus regarding
the need to devise effective ways for promoting Japanese traditional music in
schools.191 While it may be tempting to propose that the continued maintenance
of American military bases in Japan – or the role of American commercial
power in the global music industry – may have produced a climate of ‘‘coloniza-
tion’’ that is oppressive of Japanese traditional music, there is a dire lack of
convincing evidence to support such an assertion in the fields of music and
education. Still, the influences of American-style predatory corporatization
associated with free market capitalism, as well as commercialization of the
public sphere (including arts and education), are generally discernable phenom-
ena within contemporary Japanese society, and there are arguably valid reasons
for Imada to be concerned about such developments and to consider possible
connections to music education practices.192
In addition to the above arguments, even Imada’s most fundamental premise,

that ‘‘counterfeit’’ European aesthetic principles have caused Japanese music
education to be misguided, appears highly questionable. For example, Kensho
Takeshi wrote, ‘‘In Japan, music education has sometimes been justified by its
extrinsic value. The raison d’eˆtre of music education has been different from
aesthetic objectives.’’193 Additionally, Kitayama’s historical analysis of changes
in music education objectives concluded that, rather than emphasizing aesthetic
principles, ‘‘music education has been a part of moral education throughout
Japanese history.’’194 Such statements by both foreign and Japanese scholars
are supported by ample data, and clearly demonstrate that utilitarian – rather
than aesthetic – principles have served as the foundation for Japan’s music
education philosophy, at various stages throughout its history.195 The model of
school bands found in Japanese institutions is particularly illustrative of an
approach to music education that is based on utilitarian values (not Western
aesthetics), and along with the role of nationalism in Japanese wind bands, both
past and present, provides a significant challenge to Imada’s postmodernist and
postcolonialist interpretations.
2.9.2 Musical Contributions of Fenton, Eckert, Mason and Isawa
An array of interpretations has lingered well into the twenty-first century

regarding the relative contributions of John William Fenton, Franz Eckert,
and various Japanese musicians to the development of the national anthem
Kimigayo, as well as the actual musical abilities of Luther Whiting Mason and
Shuji Isawa, who collaboratively developed the nation’s first music curriculum.
In writing about the history of Kimigayo, some European historical musicolo-
gists have evidently been either unaware of, or uninterested in, Fenton’s role,
and simply described Eckert as the ‘‘composer’’ of Kimigayo.196 Others have
implied that Japanese musicians played a minimal role in the development of
the anthem, for which Fenton and Eckert are clearly credited: ‘‘In 1877 the
Englishman Fenton was replaced by a German, Franz Eckert. The harmoniza-
tion and orchestration of ‘Kimi ga yo,’ which came to function as the new
national anthem, was the product of the combined efforts of these bandmas-
ters.’’197 Still other scholars have adopted a more nuanced perspective, with the
claim that Eckert was somewhat influenced by Fenton’s original version of the
anthem in the development of a new version of Kimigayo in close cooperation
with Japanese musicians. Specifically, Gottschewski determined that the new
melody for Kimigayo, suggested by Japanese musicians and developed in
collaboration with Eckert, was understood to be a ‘‘(new arrangement) of
Fenton’s Kimi ga yo rather than a new composition; and it was written down
in minims rather than crotchets in the first sketch, just like Fenton’s Kimi ga
yo,’’ but unlike virtually all other songs of its type during this period in Japan. In
other words, Eckert’s version was evidently somewhat influenced by Fenton’s
work, even though the actual sequence of pitches used in the melodies may
appear to be quite different, derived largely from an ancient gagaku melody in
the case of Eckert’s version.198 Yet another view is offered by Manabe, who in
contrast to some previous scholars has largely credited Japanese musicians, and
suggested that Eckert’s role was actually quite a minor one in the mere harmo-
nization of a new anthem developed mostly by Japanese musicians, and with no
significant relationship to the earlier version by Fenton.199
How is one to reconcile these diverging interpretations regarding such a
sensitive topic: a prominent national symbol that has recently become legally
mandated? Such judgment requires empathetic yet critical assessment of the
historical evidence currently available, with an understanding that new evi-
dence may still emerge in the future that calls for careful reassessment. To this
author, it appears that (1) Suppan and Baethge’s interpretation of Eckert’s role
is based on insufficient data regarding musicians from England, France and
other European nations in Meiji and Pre-Meiji Japan, particularly John Wil-
liam Fenton.200 Also, (2) Fenton’s piece appears to have been the very first song
resembling a ‘‘national anthem’’ for Japan and was apparently developed with
little musical input from Japanese, yet any implication that the latter version
was developed by Eckert in direct collaboration with Fenton would seem quite
inaccurate. Additionally, (3) Manabe is entirely correct to acknowledge that
Fenton’s original anthem ‘‘showed little sensitivity to the language,’’201 which
was almost certainly a major factor leading to the call for a new version,
however, (4) Gottschewski’s interpretation may still have some validity (despite
Manabe’s objections based on identification of a single exception to
Gottschewski’s claims), for it is likely that Eckert’s version was partly inspired
by both the musical ideas of his Japanese colleagues and a critical assessment of
what in Fenton’s original version did (and did not) work well for Japanese
vocalists and instrumentalists, as indicated in the contemporaneous account of
Sukehiro Shiba. Manabe explains how ‘‘a first-ranked senior court musician,
Hayashi Hiromori negotiated with superiors for the presentation of a version
written by his then 22-year-old colleague Oku Yoshiisa,’’202 thereby producing
a melody that was later transcribed and arranged by Eckert; yet we must also
consider that both Fenton and Eckert had served as teachers for the imperial
ensembles (probably their very first European instructors), and there was there-
fore a need to ‘‘save face’’ by devising a creative solution that would be
satisfactory to all stakeholders. Gottschewski applied an unconventional
approach for the musical analysis that undergirds his interpretation, and Man-
abe appears to have valid reasons to doubt its credibility, yet in this author’s
view further data is needed before alternative explanations attain a level of
convincingness that would permit Gottschewski’s interpretation to be entirely
discarded. Regardless, it appears that in these kinds of circumstances, Eckert
would normally receive partial credit for the anthem used to this day, which is
essentially the same as what was produced in 1880 and attributed to him in an
1888 publication. Much of the confusion appears to stem from the fact that two
rather different versions of the anthem (each of which must at least be partially
attributed to non-Japanese musicians Fenton and Eckert) were used through-

out the 1880s, and it took most of the entire decade for a fairly universal
consensus to be attained regarding which version had become ‘‘the’’ de facto
official one, which was the latter version that Eckert had first transcribed and
harmonized.
Similarly, various interpretations have also been proposed regarding the
musicianship of Mason and Isawa, which may have implications for any claims
regarding who was more responsible for various musical choices associated
with shoka (children’s songs) in Japan’s first music curriculum. Miller con-
cluded that, ‘‘In short, Mason was a professional music educator – perhaps
the first professional music educator – and neither composer, performer, nor
evangelist.’’203 Isawa, on the other hand, is clearly understood by Miller and
others to have been an amateur in terms of musical ability, who relied heavily on
Mason as a music education expert. However, Miller also acknowledged that
Hiroshi Yasuda had ‘‘argued quite to the contrary’’ regarding the musicianship
and religious agenda of Mason, but provided ‘‘no evidence’’ for his controver-
sial claims. Indeed, Yasuda’s interpretations204 are occasionally cited by Imada
in the development of his aforementioned postcolonialist arguments, and are
now widely known among Japanese music teachers. In the view of this author,
there continues to be little evidence of Isawa’s musicianship, while Mason’s
musical skills seem rather to resemble other American school music teachers of
his time. Isawa was a highly accomplished scholar interested in an array of
pedagogical topics, but most especially moral education, which he recognized
could be effectively taught through children’s songs. Isawa evidently was fasci-
nated by music and enjoyed musical activities, participated in a kotekitai group
in his youth, and experimented with some music lessons while employed as a
school teacher, but there is little evidence to suggest that he ever became an
accomplished musician nor an expert music teacher, which is why he brought
Mason, his former teacher, all the way from Boston for their now well-known
collaboration to produce Japan’s first music curriculum. Rather, Isawa was
essentially a bureaucrat and educationist who recognized from his personal
experience that music could play a uniquely valuable role in education. Isawa’s
primary educational interest was in the field of moral education, and he based
his work in this area largely on his understanding of American approaches to
the teaching of ethics within public school education, which at the time was
based largely on Judeo-Christian principles.205
2.9.3 Explaining the Popularity of Bands in Japan
In addition to the aforementioned revisionist interpretations of Japanese music

education history and philosophy, some more specific claims regarding Japa-
nese bands may require re-examination. Namely, various explanations have
been proposed to explain the role of wind bands in the remarkable
popularization of western music in Japan. Historian Toyotaka Komiya went so

far as to suggest that during the first few decades of the Meiji Era (from 1868),
‘‘the military band led the way in introducing and fostering Western music.
Until about 1879, it may be said, musical activity was organized around the
military band, and it was the band that pioneered the way in what today we
would call the public concert.’’206 Komiya also claimed that ‘‘throughout the
period of the introduction of Western music and the attendant building of a
Japanese tradition, the military bands were always a step ahead of the Tokyo
Music School,’’ by which he meant the work of Mason and Isawa.207 According
to Yoko Shiotsu, the band of the Fourth Army Division, founded in 1889,
became highly influential in western Japan, where ‘‘they had a wide ranging
impact on the Western music world in the Kansai area,’’ and ‘‘played a very
important role in the history of Western music,’’ with a powerful influence that
lasted ‘‘for 35 years.’’208 Other scholars, such as Rihei Nakamura have also
suggested that military bands were most influential at the beginning of the Meiji
era toward changing Japanese tastes toward appreciation of European music.
However, Shuhei Hosokawa has cautioned that there may be insufficient
evidence to support such claims that Japanese were initially enthusiastic and
aesthetically responsive to the very earliest of band performances in their
country. While there can be no doubt that the first appearances of bands
from the mid-nineteenth century through the 1880s were an impressive specta-
cle, the extent to which common people were regularly exposed to them, or
found them enjoyable, remains unclear, since most accounts emphasize semi-
private performances for the elite, and historians have largely relied on inter-
pretation of ukiyoe artworks rather than the modicum of primary source
documents available. To this author, Hosokawa’s interpretations seem most
correct;209 namely that an understanding of western music developed rather
slowly among the masses, particularly influenced by regular public concerts
(such as the Hibiya park series from 1905), the evolution of early fusion genres
(such as kotekitai and jinta), and eventually, a highly effective system of public
school music education.
A recently published major reference work identified performances of the
Salvation Army Band as one of the most significant factors for the populariza-
tion of bands in Japan.210 Surprisingly, no evidence is offered to support this
assertion, which appears to contradict previous scholarly work on this topic.
Other scholars have proposed that the most important influences were the
famous series of military band concerts performed in urban Hibiya and Ten-
nouji parks,211 the rising militarism in Japan following the Manchurian Inci-
dent (1931),212 and the motivational incentive provided by the All-Japan Band
Association contests,213 assertions supported with convincing data. The follow-
ing is the unusual explanation that appears in Garland Encyclopedia of World
Music:
Important as military bands undoubtedly were to the dissemination of Western music
in Japan, it was the presence of the Salvation Army in Yokohama from 1895 onward
that helped popularize band music on a broader scale. In fact, the popularity of
Salvation Army bands among ordinary citizens may well have contributed to the
extraordinary proliferation of concert bands in Japanese schools and other bands in
Japan today (Fig. 2.1).214
The actual image inserted as ‘‘Fig. 2.1’’ to accompany this statement is a photo
labeled ‘‘Tokyo Metropolitan Police marching band’’, rather than Salvation
Army Band. Upon comparison with other publications, as well as examination
of Japan Salvation Army archives and discussions with both Japanese music
historians and prominent band association leaders, it is difficult to find any
support for this interpretation, as experts agree that the Salvation Army Band
actually played a very minimal role in the development of Japanese wind bands,
particularly within school settings, and by the time the first Japanese Salvation
Army Band was established in Tokyo (1907), the popularization of wind bands
was already well under way in Japan. Salvation Army Bands were never very
widely popularized in Japan relative to other nations in which the Salvation
Army has been active. By the 1950s, the Tokyo Metropolitan Police band played
a highly visible role through concertizing in the greater Tokyo area, yet there is
similarly little evidence to link that ensemble directly with the popularization of
school bands in Japan, had that been Nakamura’s original intention.
In this author’s opinion, there are broader historical forces that merit con-
sideration when tackling the thorny question of why wind bands became so
popular in Japan, although each of the specific factors noted (above) by
Japanese scholars Shuhei Hosokawa, Yasuko Tsukahara, and Yoshihiro
Obata are quite valid, providing one critically important piece of a larger
picture. As the only non-Japanese scholar thus far to deeply research Japanese
wind bands, it is important to be quite wary of a possible tendency to place
excessive emphasis on cultural explanations, yet it still seems likely to this
author that a convincing answer to this question lies in the cultural values of
the Meiji era, the sociopolitical context in which wind bands were first popular-
ized in Japan.
One important feature of the Meiji era was the Japanese government’s
‘‘commitment to abolish feudalism,’’ and the popular slogan of the age was
‘‘A rich country and a strong military.’’215 During this period, the primary
impetus for Japan’s importation of western technology was the recognition
that its military was quite inferior and would need to rapidly modernize in order
to successfully stave off the forces of colonization. Meiji Japan was a society
that valued industrialization and militarization, and increasingly rejected the
caste system and traditional customs of previous generations. Consequently,
the westernization that occurred during the Meiji era often tended to be rather
militaristic even within the sphere of music education. The shoka children’s song
genre, for example, was used partly for the purpose of inculcating values such as
loyalty and respect, as well as patriotic sentiments, all of which are welcomed by
military organizations. It served as a highly effective tool for inculcation of
militaristic ideology for decades, until the end of World War II. It is clear that
wind bands were imported directly from Western military units, and quickly
became established among Japanese youth organizations, and eventually,

schools. Christianity, however, was not widely accepted in Japan during the
Meiji era nor at any point afterward. Since Christianity is closely linked to much
of the historical tradition of European art music, its relatively modest role in the
westernization of Japan is striking and unusual in comparison to the history of
other nations in the Asia-Pacific region. As western music ensembles were
founded in Japan, they necessarily adapted to the local conditions, in which
militarization and industrial development were valued, while Christianity and
cultural elitism were disfavored. In this environment, wind bands were even-
tually given the opportunity to thrive relatively free from the stigma of lower
class connotations (compared with the symphony orchestra and opera) that had
often hindered their development in other nations.216 Other factors that must be
briefly mentioned here are that the musical instrument industry also played a
critically important role in the popularization of wind bands in Japan, as did
various cultural features characteristic of contemporary Japanese society, as
will be explained in much greater detail in other chapters of this book.217
2.9.4 Fenton’s Final Years: New Data
Another example that bears mention in relation to this theme of historiography

comes directly from personal experience and is therefore best conveyed in a
first-person account. In June 2008, a surprising message came to my office at
Boston University. Someone named Lauri Zealear had contacted me because
she had learned that I actively research and publish on the topic of wind bands
in Japan. We spoke at length by telephone, and Ms. Zealear said that she had
some new details to share about John William Fenton, but first wanted help
with contacting a retired Japanese band director because he had announced a
reward for the information. I had not known about the reward, but explained
what I knew about both Fenton and the director in question to Zealear, and
assured her that I was happy to help contact the director for her, whom I had
interviewed at his own home just a few months earlier and knew was very
interested in Fenton. I recall my excitement, as I cancelled other appointments
and stayed late in my office in Boston in order to make the telephone call to
Japan. I decided that it would probably be appropriate to telephone him around
8:00 A.M. (Japan time), although it was tempting to call even earlier. When I
telephoned the retired band director and explained in Japanese that someone
now seems to know both how Fenton spent the final years of his life and when
he died, he seemed overjoyed at the news. After I spoke with the Japanese band
director, and Zealear was able to contact him, the director shared the remaining
details with me that Zealear had sent to him by email. The band director
explained that he was announcing the news at the Japan Band Directors
Association (JBA) meeting about 1 week later and would soon be publishing
it. I spoke again on the telephone with Zealear and confirmed that the Japanese
band director had forwarded her information to me, and she explained that he
was also arranging to pay for her to visit Japan. We talked about how I could
use some of the new data in my book (which you are now reading), and Zealear
also indicated her preference that I use her real name in future publications and
presentations on the topic.
According to attendees of the JBA conference in June of 2008, there was
excitement during the band director’s announcement regarding Fenton. I was
very happy for Zealear and the director, and glad to have played a tiny role in
this incident.218 About 1 month after JBA, I began my speech at a wind music
research conference in Europe in July by very briefly (in about 30 s) describing
the excitement surrounding the announcement at the JBA conference. Most
attendees at the European conference appeared to know very little about
Japanese wind bands, but seemed interested to learn of the strength of Japanese
ensembles and to hear of about this example of international cooperation in
band research.
The retired band director has reportedly intended to travel to Santa Cruz to
carefully examine the new data, and it will be interesting to see whether it can be
authenticated. By early 2009 (9 months after Zealear first contacted me with her
new data), the retired band director had presented the news of Zealear’s
discovery at a conference and even published it in a journal and led an enor-
mous commemoration event, but he still indicated to me that in his opinion he
owns the information that was shared with us, and that no details should be
offered in this book. Although his claim to exclusive rights to discuss Zealear’s
discovery contradicts standard academic practices, I have chosen to respect
these unusual wishes and regret that at this time it will not be possible to share
any further information with readers.219
These three concluding examples demonstrate some of the complex political
issues associated with the interpretation of recent history, including difficult
choices about what to include and what to avoid discussing in one’s account.220
In terms of historiographic issues, there appears to be a strong tendency for the
role of particular figures – Fenton, Eckert, Mason, Isawa, etc. – to be either
significantly accentuated or downplayed relative to their counterparts in most
previous accounts of this history. There are likely to be many reasons for this
problem, including limited access to data, and reliance on highly subjective
accounts in local languages that are not easily triangulated. This is one reason
why cross-national approaches seem to be increasingly important for music
scholarship of the future. Among the proverbs reputedly used by ancient
Japanese sages was the saying ‘‘ron yori shoko’’ (evidence rather than mere
theories). Inevitably, every scholar makes errors, but for the sake of furthering
our collective knowledge, it is necessary to stringently question and re-question
both the data and its interpretation, so errors may be minimized. In other
words, international cooperation (rather than competition) is essential, and
when dubious assertions are proposed, it is a responsibility of the profession
to clarify data that may either support or refute the new interpretations,
regardless of their source. Admittedly, it may be risky to openly question the
interpretations of established scholars, and certainly to challenge contents of

the most authoritative reference works in one’s field requires the utmost cau-
tion. However, this may be healthy and necessary in cases where the data clearly
point one in that direction. Critical review of any statements made herein is
welcomed in the recognition that the research process is a collaborative con-
versation between many voices. One can only hope to learn from the short-
comings of others, and then strive to avoid making the very same errors oneself.
In this way, more is learned and shared, which is the ultimate purpose of any
scholarly endeavor.
2.9.5 Concluding Remarks
This historical account has demonstrated that over the period of approximately
one and a half centuries, Japanese wind bands, based primarily on the traditions
of an utterly foreign culture, formed and developed into their present state,
arguably the world’s finest. From their inception, nationalism has played a role
in these ensembles, which in school contexts have served as extracurricular
activities structured by community organizations, particularly the All-Japan
Band Association which sponsors a national band competition that appears to
have become the world’s largest, with approximately 700,000 contestants per
year.221 European wind music has a long and complex history in Japan, for
wind instruments were first taught by Portuguese missionaries in the sixteenth
century, whose hymns never completed died out in some isolated communities.
Early forms of military bands are the oldest surviving westernized ensembles in
Japan, including the fife and drum ensemble Yamagunitai (established in 1868),
the Ichinomiya Band (probably the nation’s oldest municipal ensemble for
western music), and the Osaka Municipal Symphonic Band, which appears to
be the oldest orchestra for western music in Japan to have been a professional
ensemble from its very inception. Various Japanese composers, instrument
manufacturers (such as Yamaha), and publishing companies (such as Ongaku
no Tomosha) have contributed greatly to the development of these bands,
through the production of band repertoire, instruments, and specialized pub-
lications.222 Dutch and German influences have been notable in the history of
Japanese bands – from the time of Dejima through the current popularity of
pieces by Dutch composer Johan de Meij and Flemish composer Jan Van der
Roost, as well as publisher De Haske – yet most previous accounts of Japanese
band history have instead emphasized John William Fenton as the ‘‘first band-
master’’ followed by primarily American influences in the twentieth century.
Despite current levels of achievement, which may be unrivaled in comparison to
other nations, several Japanese educators have indicated that wind bands are
currently facing a state of crisis, with an uncertain future in Japanese schools.
Previous research has made significant contributions to this field, yet many
questions regarding current practices among Japanese wind bands call for more
careful examination.
Notes
1. These kinds of articles can offer a helpful introduction to the field. One concise overview
that draws largely on the literature review of my doctoral dissertation and related publica-
tions was recently published in an online journal, and provides a general sense of how
Japanese and American wind bands may be compared (Groulx, 2009).
2. Insightful books by Galliano (2002), Wade (2005), and Tokita and Hughes (2008)
acknowledge that military bands were quite significant in Japan for the importation of
European music at the start of the Meiji period (from 1868), but provide little or no
discussion of wind bands in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. Gottschewski’s
encyclopedia entry on music syncretism, directly acknowledges the ‘‘rich repertoire of the
Japanese (military and civilian) brass band’’ already in existence ‘‘at the turn of the
twentieth century,’’ but subsequent entries fail to meaningfully address the role of wind
bands across the past 50 years (Gottschewski, 2002, p. 721). In her discussion of the early
Meiji period, Galliano also concluded that ‘‘The military bands spawned numerous wind
bands that were formed in schools, businesses, and factories that remained active until the
late 1970s’’ (Galliano, 2002, p. 28), but there is actually little if any evidence to suggest that
the popularity of bands waned in the 1980s, for ever since that decade Japanese wind bands
have been reaching very high levels of performance that increasingly receive wide interna-
tional attention. Moreover, the statistics from the national band competition indicate
sustained growth through the start of the twenty-first century (All-Japan Band Associa-
tion, n.d.). Earlier histories by foreign historians have taken a similar approach to the topic
of wind bands in Japan, emphasizing their importance in the past while failing to acknowl-
edge their role in the present (c.f. Harich-Schneider, 1973).
3. Nakamura (1993) and other prominent Japanese music historians fully acknowledge the
importance of band music throughout the early history of western music in Japan. Still,
there appears to be only one notable scholarly book in Japanese that begins the work of
tracing the importance of wind bands into the present day (Abe, Hosokawa, Tsukahara,
Touya, & Takazawa, 2001).
4. An examination of recent discourse regarding historical ethnomusicology reveals diverse
perspectives: While Kay Shelemay has suggested that ‘‘ethnomusicologists can contri-
bute more to the understanding of history’’ (Shelemay, 1980, p. 234), Jonathan Stock has
even advanced the position that ‘‘it may be unhelpful to sustain a named subdiscipline
called historical ethnomusicology’’ since history is already essential to most ethnomusi-
cology (Stock, 2008, p. 198). The field of historical sociology also provides important
models for scientific theorization of past social practices (such as music) via synthesis of
ethnography and historiography, enabling insights that might otherwise be missed.
Historical sociologist Craig Calhoun (2003) surmised that ‘‘If it is remarkable that
much sociology focuses on some combination of an illusory present and an even more
illusory set of universal laws, it is still more remarkable that much history focuses not on
crucial patterns, processes, trajectories and cases of social change but on aspects of the
past divorced from their location in the course or context of social change’’ (p. 383). As
Chair of the Historical Ethnomusicology special interest group of the Society for Ethno-
musicology, I have presented papers on methodological issues in this field at such venues
as the symposium Musicology in the Third Millennium (Seinajoki, Finland, March 18,
2010), the 2009 and 2010 annual meetings of the Society for Ethnomusicology, and the
2011 annual meeting of the British Forum for Ethnomusicology.
5. See Nettl (2005), p. 274, as well as my published review of Nettl’s book (Hebert, 2007).
6. See Nettl (2005), p. 273.
7. In their insightful overview of historical research in music education, George N. Heller and
Bruce D. Wilson (1992) asserted that ‘‘Present research needs include revision of existing
studies, application of new techniques, and cooperation with fields outside music
Notes 61
education, especially musicology and educational history. Gaps remain in the present
story of people, places, and ideas associated with music teaching and learning. New
interpretations of old subjects are needed, especially to discover the roles of ethnic and
racial populations and women’’ (p. 102). Further, such considerations require an
international-comparative perspective in order to interpret the significance of particular
cases in the context of global trends (Finney, 2005). As explained by Emiko Ohnuki-
Tierney (2006), ‘‘Every culture is a product of a series of, and continuous interpenetration
between the external/global and the local. Each conjuncture requires a reinterpretation of
the foreign elements, which in turn transforms the local, which had already undergone
similar processes before. ‘The global and local interpenetration’ is the sine quanon of all
cultures, and is the locus where history is made at the hands of cosmopolitan historical
agents’’ (p. 16). See Hebert (2009) for further discussion and application of comparative
approaches to music education history.
8. Historical theorist Aviezar Tucker (2004) has argued that scientific history, rather than
consisting of the compilation and description of putative facts about the past, is actually
the study of how evidence accumulates and interpretations are proposed regarding past
events. This, indeed, entails a significant shift in perceptions regarding the methods of
research, requiring the scholar to take a role that resembles less that of a traditional
storyteller, and more that of a judge who must carefully distinguish between conflicting
accounts of what has occurred in order to consider multiple perspectives and – where
possible – ascertain the most convincing explanations. It is also worth noting Iggers’
(1997) observation that while ‘‘sources do not present themselves in an unambiguous
form, they are nevertheless subject to criteria of reliability. The historian is always on the
outlook for forgery and falsification and thus operates with a notion of truth, however
complex and incomplete the road to it may be’’ (p. 140).
9. See Nicholas, Malina, and Münzel (2009) for a detailed description of this discovery.
10. A brief article addresses the discovery of an ancient flute in Japan from the Jomon period
(1000–2000 B.C.) that was excavated in the early twentieth century (East, 1976).
11. See Frederic (1995). Also see Breen and Teeuwen (2010) for detailed discussion of
indigenous Japanese Shinto beliefs and rituals. According to Isao Matsushita (interview,
January 9, 2007), his wind band piece ‘‘Dance of the Flying God’’ was inspired by images
of Hiten and the rhythmic shomyo chant of Buddhist rituals.
12. It should be noted that this is not terribly unusual when considered in global context. The
Hebrew shekel – one of the oldest known currencies – originally featured the harp of
David, and many European currencies today display images of famous composers. This
serves as tangible evidence of how music is widely regarded to be an important symbol of
national identity and power.
13. See Boxer (1951), p. 77.
14. See Montanus (1670), p. 167.
15. See Kaempfer (1727), p. 435.
16. See Psalmanazar (1704), p. 284.
17. See Cornwallis (1859), p. 245. For detailed description of the reception of Cornwallis’
book, see Yamagiwa (1941).
18. See Heifetz (1987), p. 30. Despite attempts to wipe out all missionary influences from
previous centuries, some traditions were maintained in ‘‘underground’’ Kakure Kirishitan
churches in isolated communities, and even some European instruments survived. Evi-
dence has recently emerged of a three and a half octave Portuguese clavichord imported to
Japan as early as the mid-sixteenth century (Takahashi, 2001). Tsukahara (2002) quite
responsibly follows her description of ‘‘the virtual disappearance of European music’’
with immediate discussion of the Kakure Kirishitan exception (p. 724).
19. See Ebisawa (1983), pp. 221–225.
20. See Ebisawa (1983), p. 221. The extent to which the music Fr. de Almeida was exposed to
may resemble the kind of ‘‘Kagura’’ music now found in Japan is unclear, but Ebisawa
found this term to be most suitable. Interestingly, the legacy of such Kagura music is
represented in contemporary composer Yohsuke Fukuda’s work for wind ensemble
‘‘Kagura for Band.’’
21. See Otori (1964).
22. See Gill (2004) p. 630.
23. This same passage is translated in the following way by Stephanie West: ‘‘We consider the
music of the harpsichord, viola, flute and organ to be sweet; but all our instruments sound
harsh and unpleasant to the Japanese’’ (1998, pp. 14–15). Stephanie West is a scholar of
Classics at Oxford University, while Robin Gill is an independent researcher and trans-
lator who has spent many years in Japan. ‘‘Docaina’’ is mentioned in the original
Portuguese as a fifth instrument, which Gill (2004) explains as a kind of oboe, while it
is omitted from the translation offered by West (1998). A published Japanese translation
closely corroborates Gill’s interpretation (Ebisawa, 1983, p. 222). Here I must thank
Patrick Schmidt for assistance in clarifying specialized Portuguese terminology.
24. See Ebisawa (1983), p. 222.
25. See Gill (2004), p. 630.
26. According to Minamino (1999), ‘‘It has been speculated that this painting was brought
back to Japan in 1620 by Hasekura Tsunenaga, emissary to Pope Paul V sent by a warlord
Date Masamune who was planning a secret trade deal with the West against the Toku-
gawa government’s policy. The painting may have been presented to Masamune and
remained in this ruling family or Hasekura’s descendants’’ (p. 50). For a broader and
particularly insightful discussion of music transculturation among the Jesuits during this
period, see Coelho (2006).
27. See Ebisawa (1983), p. 225. See Turnbull (1998) and Whelan (1992) for additional details
regarding how Kakure Kirishitan traditions were sustained from the long period of
persecution (1614–1873) through modern times. The theme of Kakure Kirishitan served
as programmatic inspiration for composer Yoriaki Matsudaira’s piano duet ‘‘Kurtosis
II’’ (Herd, 2008, p. 379), and these music traditions even offered the melodic basis for the
internationally-acclaimed wind ensemble composition ‘‘Gloriosa’’ by Yashuhide Ito
(Hebert, 2008a).
28. See Takeuchi (2002), p. 87.
29. See Bersma (2002) and Takeuchi (2000).
30. See Bersma (2002), p. 10.
31. See Takeuchi (2002), p. 87.
32. See Takeuchi (2000).
33. See Saeki (2003), p. 55 for discussion of the Palembang. See Magnus (1942), p. 550 for
discussion of records indicating that ‘‘drums and musical instruments’’ were ordered by
Dutch ships for sale to the Japanese in 1841.
34. See Eppstein (1994), p. 10. Also see Galliano (2002), p. 27. From as early as the 1830s,
adoption of European-style military bands had been advocated by some Japanese scho-
lars of Rangaku (Omori, 1986)
35. See Asakawa and Maehara (2008).
36. See discussion in Wade (2005).
37. For a recent and notable contribution in this area, see Yellin (1996).
38. From Yellin (1996), p. 263.
39. From Yellin (1996), p. 260.
40. From Yellin (1996), p. 261.
41. See Jansen (2006), p. 44.
42. Kasahara’s (2000) analysis of ukiyoe artworks concluded that ‘‘a picture of the military
band marching on the street of Yokohama, for example, was adopted from a print
depicting the Russian military band in Nagasaki in 1853. A popular image of Western
musical instruments is based on illustrations from the 1807 Kankai-ibun, in which the
scholar Otsuki Gentaku recounted the experiences of Japanese sailors shipwrecked in
Russia.’’
Notes 63
43. See Asakawa and Maehara (2008).

44. See Fujii (1991).
45. See Fujii (1991), p. 74.
46. Prof. Shuhei Hosokawa, a leading Japanese musicologist, generously shared his forth-
coming publications and discussed this topic with me during my residency as Visiting
Research Scholar at Nichibunken, National Institutes for the Humanities, Kyoto.
47. Hosokawa, personal communication; Also, according to Tsukahara (2002), ‘‘fife and
drum music was introduced by the British army stationed in Yokohama after 1863’’
(p. 725), which leaves open the possibility that trumpeting may also have been encoun-
tered during this period, although the extent to which either form of music was taught to
Japanese by British in the 1860s remains unclear due to insufficient data. Rather, there
appears to only be data to confirm that military music was taught by the Dutch in the
1850s. See Pope (2003, p. 78) for reference to Count Eulenburg.
48. See Shive (1994).
49. See Galliano (2002), p. 27.
50. See Hiyama (1977), p. 73.
51. See Asakawa and Maehara (2008), p. 33.
52. See Asakawa and Maehara (2008) and Nakamura (1993). It appears possible to this
author that the most correct spelling might be ‘‘L. Gutthig’’ rather than ‘‘Guttig’’ (as
spelled in Nakamura, 1993, p. 41 and other Japanese accounts), but this has remained
difficult to confirm.
53. See Nakamura (1993), p. 39.
54. See Nakamura (1993), p. 49.
55. See Reed (1880), p. 153.
56. See Nakamura (1993), pp. 7–8. Contrarily, Obata (1974, p. 9) claimed that 1892 was the
first year a trumpet was made in Japan.
57. See Pope (2003), p. 79.
58. Here two Nichibunken professors must be thanked: Ryoichi Tobe for alerting me to
several important military history publications, and John Breen for invaluable sugges-
tions regarding the Shinto context of this music. Additionally, Yasuko Tsukahara, Ury
Eppstein, and Yasuto Okunaka must be credited for their pioneering scholarship on
kotekitai. Surprisingly, it appears that detailed information regarding the Yamagunitai
has never previously been published in English.
59. See Asakawa and Maehara (2008), pp. 28–29.
60. As Okunaka (2005) has demonstrated, kotekitai music clearly has ‘‘roots in Western
music,’’ specifically the drumming rudiments of the Dutch military, yet these roots were
often forgotten, and ‘‘they have been able to continue their oral tradition just because of
unawareness of the origin of their own drum method’’ (p. 1).
61. See Nakamura (1994, pp. 20–21), for detailed historical information. Yasuto Okunaka’s
pioneering research on the music of the Yamagunitai has been particularly helpful, and
much of this data is from the author’s own interview with Okunaka, and later, an
interview with the actual leaders of Yamagunitai at their headquarters near Kyoto.
62. This notation was provided with permission to include it in research publications. As
Hunter (2008) has demonstrated, kotekitai in Japan have long used such forms of
notation, including one published in 1865, described as the ‘‘Eikoku kotekifu, English
drum and flute score.’’
63. From Obata (1974), p. 3.
64. Tunes originally played by the Satsuma Band led by Fenton were performed as part of the
150-year anniversary of Yokohama’s opening to the west in conjunction with special
exhibits at the city museum (Yomiuri Shinbun, 2009). A descendent of Fenton was also
brought to Japan to conduct a military band at the site of Japan’s ‘‘first band’’ in
Yokohama (Yomiuri Shinbun, 2008). Nakamura (2002, p. 727) also describes this band
as ‘‘the first Japanese military ensemble.’’
65. See Nakayama (1995) and Shiotsu (1992) for detailed discussion. Additionally, as Yama-
moto recently indicated (2008, p. 98), the relationship between Dutch military music
theory and kotekitai (fife and drum ensembles) is not yet fully considered in historical
discussions within Japan.
66. The Far East (1870).
67. The Far East (1870), p. 3.
68. The Far East (1870), p. 6.
69. Local English-language newspapers in Yokohama during the 1860s and 1870s, such as
Japan Herald, Japan Gazette, Japan Mail (and The Far East), were the ‘‘first to be
commercially circulated in Japan’’ (Kamiya & Kato, 2009). News journalism was later
enthusiastically adopted by Japanese, and would become a major national phenomenon.
70. See Obata (1974), pp. 3–5. The spelling indicated here seems most likely to this author,
although Obata spells the surname ‘‘Daguerron’’ and ‘‘Dragon’’ is used in some other
accounts.
71. See Obata (1974), p. 7. This is corroborated by Galliano, however in that account Kudo’s
first name is indicated as Sadaji rather than Teiji, and these two are described as ‘‘the first
Japanese musicians to be sent to study abroad’’ (Galliano, 2002, p. 40).
72. See Flaes (2000), pp. 9–10.
73. See Obata (1974), p. 8. Fenton’s composition has often been called ‘‘the first Kimigayo’’
among Japanese band directors, although this original version used a melody that was
very different from subsequent versions that would follow. Fenton’s version was actually
called ‘‘National Anthem,’’ while subsequent versions, which underwent further revisions
(even after Franz Eckert and Japanese colleagues selected a gagaku-inspired melody that
serves as the basis for the anthem to this day), have literally used the title ‘‘Kimigayo.’’
Since Japan lacked an official national anthem until 1999, ‘‘Kimigayo’’ has served as the
de facto anthem and has also been used as a more general term to connote each version of
‘‘national anthem’’ in Japan’s history. Viewed in this way, it is not necessarily erroneous
for Japanese band directors to refer to Fenton’s version as ‘‘a Kimigayo.’’
74. From Kobayashi (2000), p. 59. Fenton reportedly began to teach the court musicians
(gakunin) in 1878 (Galliano, 2002, p. 28). It is partly for these reasons that John William
Fenton is referred to as the ‘‘Father of western music in Japan’’ among some Japanese
band directors and other instrumental conductors.
75. Interestingly, Franz Eckert is not mentioned in the only previous doctoral dissertation on
Japanese wind band history (Obata, 1974). Peter Burt’s recent description seems entirely
accurate: ‘‘Fenton’s band acquired its own instruments from England in 1870 and later
became the official band of the Japanese navy, its directorship passing in 1879 to the
Prussian musician Franz Eckert (1852–1916)’’ (Burt, 2006, p. 9). Burt’s account – quite
understandably due to its sharp focus – makes little mention of the broader context of
brass instruments and military bands in Japan prior to Fenton’s Satsuma Band but
responsibly offers no unsubstantiated claims. Despite its growing importance as a revered
public symbol and legally mandated song in Japanese schools, it would not be any
exaggeration to suggest that many Japanese have known little or nothing about the actual
history of Kimigayo. According to Lebra, the fact that Kimigayo was composed ‘‘with the
help of an invited German musician’’ turned out to be ‘‘a shocking postwar revelation for
Japanese’’ (Lebra, 2004, p. 266).
76. See Roesgaard (1998) and Sugimoto (1997). Although the brief Taisho era (1912–1926) is
widely characterized as a period of ‘‘democratic reform’’ most scholars consider the extent
of actual democratic practices during this period to have been relatively limited despite
the valiant efforts of Inazo Nitobe and others. See Aspinall and Cave (2001) and
Matsunobu (2009b) for detailed description of recent incidents surrounding the required
singing of Kimigayo in Japanese schools.
77. See Kume et al. (2002) for complete documentation of the Iwakura Mission, which
contains many references to specific observations of concerts abroad, including wind
bands.
Notes 65
78. See Howe (1993/1994), p. 103. Also see Howe (1995b). Most of this information con-
cerning Nagai and Koda is gleaned from Howe’s descriptions (1993/1994, pp. 103–106).
One indication of how much Japanese attitudes toward singing would change is the fact
that although music became a required subject in Japanese schools by 1886, male
students from the Iwakura Mission who studied at Rice Grammar School in Boston
were excused from singing. One of them, Chokichi Kikkawa wrote that ‘‘we had in those
days the old Japanese notion that singing was vulgar’’ (Adal, 2009, pp. 120–121).
79. See Finn (2006), pp. 230–235 for a general description of Rokumeikan that largely
served as a basis for the brief summary offered here. Also see Hosokawa (1989), pp.
94–95 for discussion of the Rokumeikan’s musical significance.
80. See Faulds (1888), p. 209.
81. See Ministry of Education (1980).
82. See Tsukahara (2001), and also Wade (2005), pp. 10–16.
83. Personal observation, courtyard of Tokyo University of Arts, 2005.
84. See Eppstein (1985) for further discussion.
85. Provided in translation in Miller (2004), p. 164. As Groemer (2004) has demonstrated,
there was no unified sense of what ‘‘Japanese music’’ constituted during this period.
86. See Ogawa (2000), p. 330.
87. See Miller (2004), p. 207.
88. From Miller (2004), p. 117. It should be noted that many prominent Japanese intellec-
tuals of this time advocated a democratic and empowering approach to education but
failed to attain their objectives due to strong resistance from those with differing views.
The cosmopolitan and egalitarian orientation toward moral education espoused by such
intellectuals as Iso Abe and Inazo Nitobe, for example, was strikingly different from that
of Tetsujiro Inoue, who emphasized allegiance and sacrifice to the Emperor (Gavin,
2004).
89. Two such examples include Heifetz (1987), p. 31, and May (1963), p. 115. It should also
be noted that Isawa has been described as an ‘‘autocratic Ministry official’’ (Burt, 2006,
p. 10), and one historical investigation into the role of foreign experts during the Meiji
period concluded that ‘‘The Japanese had no intention of allowing these foreigners to
have any real control over actual policy-making functions’’ (Beauchamp, 1976, p. 42).
90. Notable examples are discussed in Ogawa (1991), p. 127, and include the work of
Yasuda (1993).
91. See Galliano (2002), p. 29. Another notable song from required music textbooks during
the height of nationalism has lyrics that describe a boy who becomes a soldier, and
celebrates how the rappa (trumpet) ‘‘did not leave his mouth even as he was killed in
battle.’’ This ultra-patriotic example, now displayed in the Kyoto Municipal Museum of
School History (as of 2010), vividly demonstrates the symbolic role of brass instruments
in the construction of Japanese nationalism among youth. However, in addition to songs
with such themes, many Japanese school songs merely celebrate images of nature, good
manners, and admirable attitudes conveyed via stories of childhood, including that of
the famous intellectual leader Kinjiro Ninomiya (1787–1856).
92. See Kraus (1989), p. 3.
93. See Staunton (1797) p. 162.
94. See Kraus (1989), p. 4.
95. See Kraus (1989), p. 4.
96. See Magnus (1942), pp. 545–546.
97. See Obata (1974), p. 8.
98. See Tanimura (2005), p. 64.
99. See Hosokawa (2007, 1990a, 1990b). Also see Saiki (2008) for discussion of early
industrial and community bands in Japan.
100. See Hosokawa (1990a), p. 104.
101. See Hosokawa (1990a), p. 104.
102. See Horiuchi (1935) and Hosokawa (1990a), p. 104.
103. See Hosokawa (1990a), pp. 102–103.

104. See Hosokawa (1990a), p. 103.
105. See Hosokawa (1990a), p. 105.
106. See Hosokawa (1990a), p. 105.
107. See Fritsch (2001).
108. See Sugihara (1986).
109. See Hosokawa (1990b), p. 130.
110. See Hosokawa (1990b), p. 131.
111. See Hosokawa (1990b), p. 131.
112. For information on the Salvation Army Bands in Japan, see Nakayama (1995) and
Suzuki (1995).
113. For further details regarding the Maori band’s visit to Japan in 1924 see Hebert (2008b).
114. From Atkins (1997), p. 49.
115. From Atkins (1997), p. 50.
116. Kikuchi Dairoku is discussed in Adal (2009), p. 160. Prof. Yasuko Tsukahara, a leading
historian of western music in Japan, has thoroughly investigated the early history of
Japanese bands. See Tsukahara (2001), p. 115.
117. See Obata (1974), p. 10. Although the primary impetus for adopting bands into Japanese
schools appears to have arisen organically from an appreciation of the opportunities
afforded by both military and community bands in various localities, Japanese educa-
tors were surely also aware of the existence of school bands in the USA and other
nations. Notable early school bands in the USA include the Boston Farm School Band
(c.1857) and the Chicago Reform School Band (c.1862), but there were many others by
the start of the twentieth century. See Humphreys (1992), Hash (2007), and Thompson
Island Outward Bound (n.d.) for further details.
118. From Obata (1974), p. 12.
119. From Obata (1974), p. 12.
120. See LeTendre (1998), p. 278.
121. This is discussed in the band’s own official accounts of its history. See Osakashi
Ongakudan (2003), pp. 16–17. Note that the band’s history is traceable to 1923, fully 3
years older than the NHK Symphony Orchestra which bills itself as ‘‘Japan’s first
professional orchestra established on October 5, 1926,’’ according to its homepage and
promotional materials (NHK Symphony Orchestra, n.d.).
122. See Ouishi (1983), pp. 194–196. Note that this is only about a decade after a national
school band contest was held in the USA (Holz, 1962; Moore, 1972).
123. See Sunaga and Tanabe (1936), pp. 59–60. Based on various examples of musical
hybridity among creative musicians in Japan, I have also produced a theoretical model
that may be helpful in analysis of the approaches taken by Japanese composers (Hebert,
2011).
124. See Ouishi (1983), p. 196. It is also worth noting that just a few years prior, in 1932,
Japan’s first national Children’s Song Competition had been founded by Norisugi Kajo,
with competing choruses from 82 boys’ schools and 120 girls’ schools representing 22
prefectures broadcast on Japanese radio (Tsutsumi, 2007, pp. 11–12). This too would
become a major annual event, with fewer participants than the band contest yet rela-
tively more effective publicity due to public broadcasts.
125. My translations, in collaboration with Dr. Koji Matsunobu. This is discussed in AJBA
contest programs and in the organization’s own official account of its history. See
Hiramatsu et al. (1998) for further details.
126. From Tsukahara (2001), p. 119.
127. See Galliano (2002), p. 41.
128. See Obata (1974), p. 19.
129. See Obata (1974), p. 23.
130. See Fukunaka (2008).
Notes 67
131. See Garrett (1998), p. 84. Garrett’s ‘‘pianocentric’’ dissertation provides another fasci-
nating perspective on the history of western music in Japan, as does a recent publication
on the history of guitar in Japan by Takeuchi (2011).
132. See Obata (1974), p. 33.
133. See Obata (1974), p. 49.
134. See Obata (1974), p. 61.
135. See Ouishi (1983), p. 203.
136. See Ouishi (1983), p. 205.
137. From Obata (1974), p. 106.
138. See Kelly (1996) for biography of Paul Yoder.
139. See Hebert (2001a), p. 217 for discussion of Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra. Also see
Obata (1974), p. 106.
140. From Obata (1974), p. 85.
141. See Yoshihara (2007) p. 35.
142. See Ouishi (1983), p. 212.
143. See Ouishi (1983), p. 214.
144. See Ouishi (1983), p. 216.
145. See Mitsui (1997), p. 171.
146. See Ouishi (1983), p. 217. Joint ABA/JBA meetings were subsequently held in 1980,
1984, 1987, and 1995. Toshio Akiyama was personally involved in organizing such
events. He is deservedly respected for leading the development of Japanese wind bands
for many decades, and has been a highly visible figure at the nexus of international
relations in Japan’s wind band scene. Akiyama’s unconventional approach to ‘‘history’’
writing, however, raises various concerns among careful readers.
147. See Ouishi (1983), p. 221.
148. See Chapter 9 of this book for detailed discussion of Japanese band composers, and
Chapter 13 provides discussion of the Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra.
149. In an essay entitled ‘‘The importance of studying teaching conduct in school band
instruction’’, educationist Manabu Koide acknowledged the current need for systematic
research on school bands (Koide, 2000). Koide categorized and described (with a
remarkable lack of inhibition) several problems he identified in the field of Japanese
school band clubs. In the category of problems for students, he noted three main
concerns: ‘‘(1) strange disciplinary policies, (2) infestation of bullying and sadistic
teaching, and (3) the tragic results of overly-competitive emphases’’ (Koide, 2000,
p. 21). In the category of problems for teachers, Koide also identified three issues:
(1) the extreme time commitment required of club activities (such as band) interferes
with teachers’ preparation for academic classes, (2) band directors are evaluated on how
their groups score at contests, rather than other factors, and (3) band directors tend to be
pressured to engage in many activities outside their field of expertise as teachers,
particularly in the area of fundraising (Koide, 2000, p. 21). In the same volume as
Koide, Masakazu Shinzanno’s essay also identified six problems associated with current
practices in Japanese school band clubs: (1) band clubs require substantial time from
students who are already quite busy, (2) influences of jougekankei (senior/junior hier-
archical relationships) and tokuikutekina shido (moral education) are widespread in club
activities and may sometimes place inappropriate pressures on student members,
(3) band club teachers use inadequate instructional techniques, (4) it is quite difficult
to obtain the funding necessary for successful band club activities, (5) evaluation of band
directors places too much emphasis on the scores their ensemble obtains at contests, and
(6) there are problems with poor retention of band students and an increasing gender
imbalance in favor of female students (Shinzanno, 2000, pp. 117–118).
150. See Osakashi Ongakudan (2003).
151. From McDonald (1989), p. 91
152. From McDonald (1989), p. 101.
153. See Tommasini (2008). This figure of ‘‘around 50 million’’ was also corroborated in the
author’s discussions with representatives from several of China’s largest musical instru-
ment companies at the International Society for Music Education conference in Beijing,
August, 2010.
154. See Kahn and Wakin (2007). Also see Kluger (2008).
155. See Taipei Times (2009).
156. For these figures on Japan’s music market, see Stephens (2008) p. 1. See Kyo-En (n.d.)
for further information regarding recordings of Japanese wind band compositions. The
estimate described at Jeugia (in Kyoto, 2009) was carefully calculated with a wind band
director colleague as we happily perused the shelves of a music store during my residency
at Nichibunken.
157. See Matsunobu (2009a, pp. 262–267; 2009b) and Isoda (2010) for richly nuanced and
informed discussion of these complicated matters. On observing this recent shift in
policy, Nakao also wrote that ‘‘traditional Japanese music has been conspicuous by its
absence in music education. The skilled craftsmen who make traditional Japanese
instruments were on the verge of extinction’’ (Nakao, 2004, p. 108). Johnson (2004)
described this situation as a ‘‘state imposed rediscovery of an imagined roots,’’ astutely
noting that ‘‘Such a process not only reinvents tradition, but it also reinvents culture,’’
and moreover, ‘‘The place of hogaku in music education points to cultural nationalism.
It is a celebration of what was historically a small part of Japanese culture that was
restricted in pre-Meiji times to a small portion of the society’’ (pp. 153–155). Roy Starrs
also acknowledged that Japanese traditional music had ‘‘now become one of the cultural
objects privileged by those nationalists who wish to replace ‘modern Western’ instru-
ments with ‘traditional Japanese’ ones as a compulsory part of the school curriculum’’
(Starrs, 2004, p. 12). Other significant curricular reforms affecting music programs in
early twenty-first century Japan have been the adoption of an Integrated Studies unit
(which may entail music in combination with other fields), and the enforcement of
Kimigayo singing. See Hamamoto (2009) for discussion of Integrated Studies, and
Matsunobu (2009b) and Aspinall and Cave (2001) for discussion of the Kimigayo
requirement.
158. See Nakanowatari (1992), pp. 12–13.
159. There are many articles from the mid-1990s onward by Japanese scholars that describe
the precarious ‘‘crisis’’ state of school bands in Japan (e.g. Kitayama, 1998; Koide, 2000;
Nakanowatari, 1994). In Kikan Ongaku Kyoiku Kenkyu (‘‘Music Education Research
Quarterly’’), Shoichi Yagi addressed the time management challenges faced by both the
teachers required to coach school clubs (such as band) and the over-worked students
who participate in them (Yagi, 1991). He proposed that the essential musical needs of
students are already being served by academic music courses, and that in recent years
school bands have become too highly structured and competitive to any longer fulfill the
primarily social role that had been their raison d’eˆtre, as student clubs. Yagi wrote, ‘‘My
conclusion is that wind band clubs should be turned over to community education’’
(Yagi, 1991, p. 191). He challenged the profession to recognize that the possibility of
eliminating school bands, and instead having students participate in community bands,
should be ‘‘seriously discussed.’’ According to Yagi, the increased involvement and
enthusiasm for band activities among students detracts from academic work and other
responsibilities, and the increased requirements that the coaching of band clubs has
placed on music teachers (only rarely corresponding to higher salaries or recognition
from their administrators), has made their jobs unmanageable. Prof. Mitsuko Isoda, a
doctoral graduate of Prof. Yagi, must be profusely thanked here for kindly guiding my
understanding of Yagi’s work.
160. See Allsup and Benedict (2008), Jones (2008), and Johnson (2009) for some notable
recent examples of American educators’ critiques of the school band movement.
161. See Hosokawa (2001), p. 76.
Notes 69
162. See Shinzanno (2000), pp. 117–118.

163. See Shinzanno (2000), pp. 117–118. Also see Benesse (n.d.) for recent statistics on music
participation by age and gender, and Shinzanno (2004) for a concise and updated
discussion of these and related issues, as well as Tanaka (1998) on implications of
these developments for the musical instrument industry. It is important to acknowledge
that in other nations as well, including the USA, the music industry has largely shaped
the kinds of instrumental instruction offered in schools throughout much of their history
(Humphreys, 1992).
164. See Tanimura (2008), pp. 94–95.
165. See Hebert (2001b) for specific examples of composers’ perceptions.
166. Katsuhiro Nakanowatari’s (1992) statement that ‘‘There is insufficient educational
research on the topic of student clubs, and inevitably conclusions precede [empirical
findings]’’ (p. 13), along with Tsukada’s (1998) assertion that ‘‘research on school bands
should be done in a new way’’ (p. 33) suggest indigenous recognition of the need for
systematic research as a way of better understanding the problems faced by Japanese
school bands. The research on which this book is based has sought to start filling this gap
in knowledge.
167. Currently, three histories are especially popular in Japan, each of which takes a very
traditional approach (Mashino, 1986; Kimura, 1993; Tomoda, 1996). Nishizaka (2002)
discusses the problematic lack of scholarship on women within Japanese musicology.
Also, see Hebert (2009) for international-comparative discussion of this phenomenon of
disjuncture in music education history.
168. Several scholars have begun to examine such topics (Hebert, 2000; Howe, 1995a;
Stevens, 2000; Southcott & Lee, 2003, Lee, 2002). See Groemer (2004) for a broader
critique of widespread problems in Japanese music scholarship, many of which are quite
evident in the field of wind band research.
169. See Imada (2000), p. 19. This section will largely consist of a critique of Imada’s
interpretations. Imada writes mostly in a philosophical idiom in which critiques of this
kind are commonplace (see the journals Philosophy of Music Education Review and
Action, Criticism and Theory for Music Education for examples). It should be understood
that my intentions here are to engage in genuine scholarly debate, and I welcome
Imada’s response. Despite disagreement with his interpretations, I recognize that he is
a thoughtful scholar who is admirably concerned with the challenges of interpreting and
improving the state of music education in Japan.
170. From Imada (1997), p. 83.
171. From Stokes (2003), p. 301.
172. The only exception being that a few extremely nationalistic songs were banned from
Japanese school textbooks during the American occupation. Examples of these text-
books (including the censored contents) are permanently displayed in the Kyoto Muni-
cipal Museum of School History.
173. See Cresswell and Hoskin (1999). Also see Taylor (2007) for a more recent discussion of
these issues. According to Ewbank and Papageorgiou (1997), ‘‘the media imperialism
approach tends to obscure the complex relationships and dynamics that exist among the
external and internal factors and forces that shape the cultural production of peripheral
countries’’ (p. 6).
174. From Imada (2001), p. 72.
175. Poststructuralism is one approach proposed by Imada (1997); Postcolonial theory is also
suggested (Imada, 2000); Semiotics is also proposed (Imada, 2000/2001); and Decon-
structionism is also suggested (Imada, 2001).
176. From Imada (2003), p. 73.
177. See Nettl (2000) and Davies (2001), p. 37.
178. From Bowman (2000), p. 55.
179. From Imada (2000), p. 15.
180. From Imada (2000), p. 18.

181. Notable examples include Chomsky (2003) and Chua (2002).
182. Described in Takeshi (1996).
183. From Imada (2000), p. 20.
184. From Howe (1997), p. 71.
185. See Eppstein (1985), p. 11.
186. See Miyoshi (1992), p. 304.
187. Examples include Roesgaard (1998) and Sugimoto (1997, p. 120).
188. From Miyoshi (1992, p. 304).
189. Discussed by various scholars (Southcott & Lee, 2003; Hebert, 2000).
190. Discussed by various scholars (Ogawa, 1994; Groemer, 2004).
191. Takizawa (1992) was among the first Japanese music educationists to take a strong
position on this subject, advocated through an active research agenda. Manes (2006)
analyzed the content of recent Japanese school music textbooks, which at the early
primary level continue to emphasize European music along with some Japanese songs,
while including very little music from the rest of the world. As discussed elsewhere
(e.g. Heimonen & Hebert, 2010; Isoda, 2010), this phenomenon is globally widespread,
and may also have implications for ethnic minorities in Japan.
192. See Chua (2002) and Stiglitz (2010), for example.
193. From Takeshi (2001).
194. From Kitayama (1990), p. 36.
195. There are numerous examples that directly contradict Imada’s unusual position. See, for
example, Eppstein (1985), p. 36; Kitayama (1990), p. 36; Ogawa (1994), p. 31; Takeshi
(2001), p. 52.
196. See Suppan and Baethge (1996). Conversely, Obata (1974) described Fenton’s version of
Kimigayo, but made no mention of Eckert’s contributions.
197. See Jansen (2006), p. 44.
198. See Gottschewski (2003).
199. Manabe (2009). This perspective is reasonable, and not unlike the views expressed in
some earlier publications by Japanese scholars (c.f. Yamada, 1956).
200. See Suppan and Baethge (1996). This perspective resulted in Berlin being singled out as a
‘‘centre for the training of military bandmasters’’ from Japan in the 1880s within the
leading music reference work Grove Music Online (Polk et al., n.d.). Galliano noted the
‘‘importance accorded French military music when Japan started to import Western
music’’ (Galliano, 2002, p. 56), and indeed, although Germany would eventually become
the European nation most influential in Japan’s musical life, the influence of the Nether-
lands, France, and England were arguably as significant until around 1890. Some of the
leading Japanese band conductors were sent to the Paris Conservatory (rather than
Berlin) for their studies, and the majority simply studied in Japan from the bands already
there, representing an array of European nations.
201. See Manabe (2009), p. 92.
202. See Manabe (2009), p. 93. One can only hope that more data becomes available, for it is
very difficult to attain definitive conclusions at present. In Japan, it has not been
uncommon for important documents to be discarded rather than placed in archives.
Moreover, much of interest was obliterated during wartime by the most extreme bomb-
ing of civilian targets in history. Additionally, as historian Andrew Gordon (2003)
observed, ‘‘archives in Japan are in relatively poor repair, and access to them is difficult’’
(p. 262).
203. Miller (2004), p. 62.
204. Yasuda (1993). Arguably, a more important point here, besides knowledge or ability in
western music, is what Miller (2004) has documented, that neither Mason nor Isawa
knew much about Japanese traditional music at the time they first began producing
shoka (p. 118).
Notes 71
205. It is only in this sense that Yasuda and Imada may be somewhat correct in their
interpretations, for ‘‘music education’’ and ‘‘moral education’’ in late nineteenth century
American schools were largely intertwined with Christian traditions. Still, although
many of the songs used in American schools at the time had overtly Christian connota-
tions, little evidence thus far appears to have been produced that would justify labeling
either Isawa or Mason a ‘‘Christian missionary’’ relative to their sociohistorical context.
It is conceivable that the emergence of new data may someday offer convincing justifica-
tion for alternative interpretations, but this remains to be seen.
206. Komiya (1956), p. 456.
207. Komiya (1956), p. 504. Interestingly, this view appears to be contradicted by Galliano
(2002), whose interpretation of this period was that ‘‘the most significant musical
developments took place in the new Tokyo School of Music in Ueno’’ (p. 40).
208. Shiotsu (1998), pp. 43–44.
209. See Nakamura (1993). Hosokawa has indicated this position in both personal discus-
sions and his ongoing writings, and I find it to be an important concern and entirely
convincing.
210. See Nakamura (2002), p. 728. Further discussion of the Salvation Army Band in Japan is
available in Nakayama (1995) and Suzuki (1995).
211. See Hosokawa (2001), p. 75. According to the introductory map pamphlet provided by
Hibiya park administrators to this author in 2010, ‘‘it served as a military parade
ground during the Meiji Era. It was the first Western style park in Japan designed and
constructed as an urban park, which contains an outdoor music hall and a public hall
for a variety of uses.’’ The park was officially opened on June 1st, 1903, and covers
161,636.66 m2.
212. See Tsukahara (2001), p. 115.
213. See Obata (1974), pp. 61–62.
214. From Nakamura (2002), p. 728. Normally one would not expect historians to so overtly
indicate causality without fully documented argumentation to undergird the claim.
However, as I seek to demonstrate in this section, causality may be effectively illustrated
with the use of ‘‘dynamic explanations’’ that draw upon the notion of ‘‘replaceability,’’ or
the extent to which trajectories would likely have been significantly altered if agency had
been more substantially impeded by different social power structures (Hammer, 2008).
These diverse explanations regarding the popularization of wind bands in Japan are
interesting to consider in light of Kaye’s (2010) vision of ‘‘counterfactualism.’’ Kaye
identified three major assumptions of history, for which counterfactualist thought
experiments may provide an effective antidote: (1) indispensability, (2) causality, (3)
inevitability (pp. 40–41). According to Kaye, indispensability implies that a single factor
may be the exclusive cause of an event, while causality in general attributes a chain of
factors to the development of a particular event. The notion of inevitability, on the other
hand, implies determinism and actually indicates a lack of acknowledgement that very
unlikely and improbable things happen frequently which cannot be causally explained.
Kaye correctly acknowledges that the causes to all major events cannot necessarily be
explained, and explanations often over-simplify. Nevertheless, explanation is an essen-
tial objective of rigorous scholarship, and some historical explanations are more appro-
priately nuanced and convincingly argued than others. Careful consideration of alter-
native explanations may correctly be regarded as an essential component of robust
historiography.
215. See Itasaka (2006), pp. 115–121.
216. As summarized elsewhere, ‘‘The kind of music transculturation and hybridity that
ensued arguably entailed an atypically egalitarian view of western music ensembles, in
which wind band music was provided the opportunity to prosper as in no other nation
before. Professional wind ensembles arose and flourished in this unique environment,
supported by the patronage of amateur wind band musicians, who within a system of
intense national competition also rose to unprecedented levels of musical achievement

and enthusiastic consumption’’ (Hebert, 2008b, p. 242).
217. Kenji Tanaka credits the diligence, dexterous techniques and efficiency of Japanese
workmanship for the remarkable growth seen in the nation’s musical instrument indus-
try across the past century (Tanaka, 1998, pp. 30–31). Also, see Hiyama (1977) for
discussion of this industry.
218. Although my role in this incident was very minor, the retired band director at first
seemed quite appreciative. I recall that soon after this announcement, he wrote to me
‘‘Thank you for your great help,’’ and when Zealear first conveyed the new findings to
him, she also wrote ‘‘I finally reached Dr Hebert who has been so kind in helping me,’’
but this sentence was removed from Zealear’s communication within the band director’s
published account of how she provided the new data to him.
219. This turns out to not be a large omission, because it was already clear from previous
publications that Fenton was no longer musically active by the time he reached the final
years of his life. Furthermore, as demonstrated, there may currently be an overemphasis
on the role of Fenton as ‘‘Japan’s father of Western music’’ in the minds of many
Japanese band directors, since there is such strong evidence of European-derived
music traditions in Japan that predate Fenton, including not only hymn music and
military band training, but also performances on European wind instruments (Saeki,
2003). Furthermore, in terms of Fenton receiving credit for the national anthem Kimi-
gayo, it is clear that German bandmaster Franz Eckert’s role was as significant as
Fenton’s in the development of the anthem melody that is used to this day (Suppan &
Baethge, 1996). This ‘‘canonization’’ of Fenton might even arguably be interpreted in the
anthropological sense as a kind of ‘‘invented tradition’’ within the wind music subculture
of contemporary Japan, to which considerable financial resources, from both Japanese
band director organizations and government sources (including national military and
Yokohama region funding), have been allocated (Yomiuri Shinbun, 2008, 2009). This is
by no means an isolated incident, with highly influential band directors being referred to
in recent years as ‘‘the father of bands,’’ in various circles, which is then amplified via
research publications (Hebert, 2001a; Kelly, 1996).
220. Calhoun (1998) writes of the need in social science historiography for the development of
‘‘both theory that is about the shape of history, its disjunctures as well as its continuities,
and theory that is self-conscious about its own historical specificity and that of the
phenomena it studies’’ (p. 868). The concluding section of this chapter has proceeded
with these theoretical objectives as implicit aims.
221. Curiously, despite the important role wind band music plays in contemporary Japanese
musical life – as an idiom strongly supported by notable composers, universities, compa-
nies, religious organizations, and the music industry, as well as the most popular extra-
curricular school music activity among Japanese girls – and despite the international
significance of Japanese bands – with arguably the highest overall level of wind band
performances and organized within the largest music contest of any kind – this topic is
essentially ignored in all major music reference works, including leading international
music dictionaries, music encyclopedias, and authoritative guides to music in Japan. This
appears to be largely due to problems that wind bands face worldwide as a topic of
scholarly inquiry, located somewhere between art music and popular music, and therefore
viewed by both ethnomusicologists and historical musicologists as part of ‘‘the other’’
field, and usually represented by the kind of non-rigorous scholarship too often produced
by band director enthusiasts who lack professional training in research methods.
222. Trevor Herbert (2003) deserves substantial credit for demonstrating how studies of
music industry, innovations in instrumentation, and musical practices among amateurs
offer important and fertile new domains for musicological research. The role of Japan’s
music industry is discussed in detail in Chapters 12 and 13 of this volume.
References 73
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Part II
An Ethnography of Wind Bands
in Japanese Schools
Chapter 3
An Invitation to the Tokyo Middle School
人は見かけによらぬもの
Hitowa mikakeni yoranumono
‘‘One cannot trust mere appearances’’
Among the most insightful perspectives one may consider in examining a

musical or educational tradition is that from beneath. By ‘‘beneath’’, I mean
the views of its newest and youngest initiates, those who are still learning the
rules of a tradition and adapting to the roles that it offers them. This chapter
introduces a middle school band that serves as a focal subject for this ethno-
graphy of wind band music in Japan. At first impression, the notion of research-
ing musical practices within a school band, even if in Japan, might seem either
irrelevant or mundane to some readers. For good reason, many Western
musicians, music teachers and musicologists recognize a high value in studies
of renowned composers and performers, detailed depictions of utterly unfami-
liar (even, exotic) foreign music traditions, or practical research that directly
addresses specific challenges faced in the school music programs of their
immediate surroundings.
Research studies that examine international practices are relatively unusual
within the field of music education. Still, studies in the fields of international-
comparative education and comparative music education are now increasingly
recognized for making important contributions to educational practice in the
USA and abroad.1 Lawrence Lepherd observed that ‘‘One of the advantages of
international study is that music educators are able to gain a broader perspec-
tive within which they can assess and attempt to resolve their own problems’’2
From the perspective of ethnomusicology, a school band qualifies as an
atypical subject of study. As Bresler and Stake have observed, ‘‘few ethnomu-
sicological studies examine familiar music in familiar settings.’’3 Most anthro-
pological subfields also tend to produce relatively few studies of children’s lives
and educational settings, but some scholars have suggested that important
insights are missed through placing inordinate emphasis on the world of
adults.4 Still, a study of Japanese wind bands fits well with some important
new trends in ethnomusicology, including research on music teaching and

86 3 An Invitation to the Tokyo Middle School
learning,5 educational institutions,6 urban settings,7 music globalization and

national identity,8 and Western music transculturation in East Asia.9 In order
to proceed with description of a specific Japanese school band, it is useful to
first introduce the geographic and institutional settings within which the ensem-
ble is situated.
3.1 A Place for Learning
3.1.1 The Urban Setting
Tokyo is a unique city that defies description. A sprawling megalopolis, it serves

as the center of contemporary Japan’s government, industry, and popular
culture. Urban planning is a very recent notion in this city that has ballooned
into a maze of such diversity that locals struggle to define the ever-changing
character of its neighborhoods. Regarding the Tokyo urban landscape, Kendall
wrote, ‘‘Even in the centre, where new buildings soar all around, it is not
unusual to find tiny shops where people make a living from selling nothing
but rice crackers next door to a bank or tower block 100 times its size. It can be
confusing, difficult to make sense of. So don’t try.’’10
Although Tokyo’s sensibility eludes many foreigners, ask any Tokyo resi-
dent to locate the centers of urban activity, and one is certain to hear repeatedly
the names of train stations that signify some of the most densely populated
areas in the world: Shinjuku, Shibuya, and Ikebukuro. Many of the observa-
tions presented in this book are based on fieldwork research on the wind band at
a public middle school situated in the greater Ikebukuro region, within Tokyo’s
Itabashi ward.
Ikebukuro, the center of Northwest Tokyo, is rivaled only by Shinjuku and
Shibuya in terms of population density. Though widely recognized by locals as
an important urban center, Ikebukuro’s image is less glamorous than other
areas, and receives little discussion in most Tokyo tourist guidebooks. One
guidebook that mentions Ikebukuro, notes that because of the area’s ‘‘less
trendy reputation,’’ one finds ‘‘prices are often lower.’’11 Ikebukuro is consid-
ered a good place for bargain shopping especially because it boasts a wide
selection of foreign goods at unusually reasonable prices. This is largely due
to the fact that Itabashi, the ward surrounding Ikebukuro, is known as one of
the most ethnically diverse areas of Tokyo, and the minorities represented tend
to be those commonly associated with entry-level labor and nightlife occupa-
tions in Japan: Chinese, Koreans, Filipinos, Iranians, and Indians. It is cer-
tainly not an upper class area. One must travel far across town to the more ‘‘high
end’’ parts of Tokyo, such as Roppongi and Omotesando, in order to find
businesses that cater to Westerners associated with white-collar professions and
embassies.
3.1 A Place for Learning 87
3.1.2 The Trek to School
The majority of Tokyo’s 8,348,000 residents travel everywhere within the city
by train.12 Tokyo’s system of urban trains and subway lines is the most complex
in the world and the structure of this system seems to mirror the organizational
style of many other aspects of Japanese life, perhaps even offering insights into
the logic of contemporary Tokyo. The trains are directed by uniformed men,
who wear official suits complete with white gloves and a small hat. Rather than
limiting the number of occupants, part of the responsibility of these officers is to
aid latecomers in their efforts to board train cars that are often already com-
pletely filled with passengers. Consequently, the interior of the train cars
commonly becomes a solid mass of bodies. Nevertheless, each train typically
departs and arrives exactly on time, down to the precise minute posted.
Even for lifelong residents, it is often challenging to determine the fastest
route by train between two points in Tokyo, for the transfer options can seem
endless among lines run by competing companies: sometimes simultaneously
overhead, at street level, just beneath the street, and still even further under-
ground. Once a route is decided upon, men still need to keep an eye out for the
women-only signs posted in some train cars. In response to a social problem
called chikan,13 some Tokyo train companies have forbidden all men from
riding certain train cars on certain routes. Even semi-literate foreign men can
quickly learn to recognize which cars are off-limits, as the ‘‘women-only’’ signs
posted on such trains are framed by an ultra-feminine, pink flowery border.
From a Western perspective, such features of the Tokyo train system may
already suggest profound cultural difference: (1) a remarkable precision, size
and scope of bureaucratic organizations; (2) clearly delineated social roles, and
(3) non-Western approaches to both the assigning of responsibility and solving
of problems, for example. Such cultural differences prove to be quite significant
within the realm of school bands, yet even the community surrounding the
school may reveal features that convey ‘‘difference’’ when viewed from abroad.
3.1.3 The School Neighborhood
The school that served as the site of this study is located about 15 min by train
from Ikebukuro station. Upon exiting the local station, it becomes clear from
the limited height of the buildings (e.g. only four, rather than twenty stories)
and the kinds of establishments surrounding the station, that the location is
densely populated yet nearly suburban in character. Surrounding the station are
a number of convenience stores and restaurants, including some that originated
in the United States: KFC and Mister Donut, for example. From the station,
the school is only about a 5-min walk down a single narrow street. Many
students take this walk every day. Along the way are several cafés, small fruit
stands, butcher shops, a department store, an ice cream parlor, and even a
Japanese-style hamburger diner. In many ways, the images from this daily walk
are similar to what might be seen in lower-middle class, semi-urban areas of other
nations, however some details would likely strike an American teacher as unusual
features for the neighborhood of a middle school. For example, along the narrow
street one also finds several vending machines that sell beer and tobacco, and an
outdoor booth that serves fried octopus. But perhaps most surprisingly, the two
businesses located nearest to the school are a tobacco shop and an adults-only
establishment called Wakuwaku Room. Beyond these businesses, the neighbor-
hood is entirely residential, densely packed with inexpensive housing complexes,
and the edge of a community park is seen at the next intersection. The school is
reached by taking a short diagonal path across this tiny park.
The city park appears to be the main feature that might make this location an
attractive place for a school. While rather small, the park features some pleasant
trees and bushes, a building that houses an indoor swimming pool, and some
community greenhouse space. Walking through this park, one often sees
women with babies in strollers, elderly men sitting together and chatting on
the park benches, people of various ages walking small dogs, and young
children playing various games with balls and jump ropes. In terms of popula-
tion density, this area is still urban, yet does not seem to have an inner-city feel.
Despite its location, the park feels calm, peaceful, and relatively quiet compared
with the bustling commercial district nearby.
3.1.4 At the Campus
The school building looks rather typical for a Japanese public school. It is a
rather old looking, off-white concrete structure with two stories. The building is
quite worn, with cracks in the paint, yet it is kept remarkably clean. The main
structure of the building is in the shape of a large capital U (viewed from the
sky), and has a central courtyard with a clay surface that is used for various
sports (Fig. 3.1).
C C
G
G F
B L O
Key: B = Band Room

C = Classrooms L = Library
G = Gymnasium O = Office
P = Park F = Field
Fig. 3.1 Ishikawa middle P
school building (floor 2)
Windows allow one to view the inner courtyard from most locations on the
inside of the U-shape. A multi-purpose sports field lies beyond one side of the
U, a corner of which must be crossed in order to reach the main entrance of the
building. A large, square gymnasium is attached to the other side of the U. In
terms of architectural style, this building, like most other schools in Japan,
appears to offer no unnecessary ornamentation.14 Like other Japanese public
schools, every aspect of the construction of this building is purely functional,
designed for maximum efficiency, with little aesthetic appeal. The building
almost seems to resemble a factory for the manufacture of a highly valued
commodity: learned students.
However, the irony of this image is that the school seems to be generally quite
a cheerful place during breaks from the intense focus of academic work. As
classes come to an end at 3:30 P.M., dozens of students, aged 12 to 15, playfully
rush out of their classrooms and dart here and there, calling out each other’s
names, giggling, and beaming with energy. And after a short break, the vast
majority rush off to participate in the school club activities that take up most of
their extra time (often 20–25 h/week), including sports and band. These school
club activities are considered to fulfill an increasingly important role in con-
temporary Japanese life, providing opportunities for safe recreation and stu-
dent leadership. As Carol Kinney observed,
In Japan’s urban areas . . . more families may be living as nuclear families with two
working parents, which may lead to less supervision of youth. Especially because of this
trend, the lengthy hours that many students spend on school grounds after school
hours are important. Although this time is often largely unsupervised, adults are
readily available, and the dangers on school grounds are probably less than in other
establishments in the city.15
Merry White concluded that ‘‘Teachers may be present as coaches and

assistants, but the clubs are really run by the middle schoolers,’’16 and according
to Peter Cave, in Japan ‘‘Teachers and students alike see club activities as one of
the most important parts of school life.’’17 Rebecca Fukuzawa noted that
‘‘Bukatsu [extracurricular activities] are not part of the official curriculum
yet they are more powerful sources for incorporating students in school life
than any other activity.’’18 Recognition of this context is essential in order to
understand the implications of relationships and behaviors observed within a
Japanese school band. Certainly, the educational objectives of a student-run
extracurricular activity may be expected to differ significantly from that of
formally taught academic courses.
3.1.5 The Main Office
On the second floor of the main school building, at the right corner of the
bottom of its U shape is the location of the main office, where the principal and
various secretaries work (Fig. 4.2). As is common among Japanese offices, no
privacy is offered except at the very top level of bureaucracy. Ten to twelve
desks are squeezed into one brightly-lit room, where several middle-aged
women are typically typing on computers, talking on telephones, making
photocopies, stuffing envelopes, filling out forms, and stamping paper docu-
ments with various official seals. Behind this large room is the door to the
principal’s office, by far the most comfortable room in the school. The principal
has a large, attractive desk, a meeting table and chairs, and a small lounge area
with a coffee table and sofa chairs. Women from the main office guide the
principal’s visitors beyond the workers and into this office where they serve
green tea, coffee, and snacks, accompanied with gracious smiles and obsequious
bows. The band rehearsal room is located just down the hall from the main
office, at the exact center of the U.
3.1.6 The Band Room
It is easy to locate the band room. A colorful student-made sign is posted on the
door that says, ‘‘buraban’’ (an abbreviation for band, historically derived from
contraction of the phonetic representations of the English words ‘‘brass’’ and
‘‘band’’), and another that says ‘‘buraban no heya’’ (band room) along with a
small cartoon-like puppy dog drawing.
The band room is entered through double doors, which help to contain the
massive sound produced by the enormous ensemble. The room is larger than
most academic classrooms, yet rather small when compared with music facil-
ities in many Western nations (about 20 by 12 m). The band room has wooden
floors, and is surrounded by white walls of pasty soundproofing material with a
constant pattern of pencil-punch sized holes. Upward is a low, uneven ceiling
(only about three meters high), that juts out in various angles apparently
designed to deflect sound, and long white fluorescent light tubes. Viewed
from the entrance, a row of several windows is seen on the opposite side of
the band room. Thick curtains are usually pulled shut across the windows, but
when opened one may look out across the greenhouse area of the aforemen-
tioned neighborhood park.
Viewed from the entrance, on the far right wall of the band room are two
professional posters that read, ‘‘Welcome, suisougakubuni’’ (welcome to the wind
ensemble club). ‘‘Welcome’’ is written in English, but the rest is in Japanese
language. The image of one poster includes three little eighth notes juxtaposed
against photographs of a boy and girl dressed in school uniforms and holding their
instruments. The boy, holding a French horn, stands on the left, while the girl with
an alto saxophone is on the right. To the left of that poster is a similar one, perhaps
part of a series (with the same message and eighth notes). Instead of two school
band players, this poster features an image of Mr. Sugamo, the famous alto
saxophone player who serves as Concertmaster of the professional band Tokyo
Kosei Wind Orchestra. He conveys a dignified manner, dressed in a suit, holding
his horn and smiling proudly. Both posters say ‘‘welcome’’ in English, with big
white capital letters across the generally darker images, for great contrast.
Also on the walls are several student-made posters that feature each instru-
mental section, introducing the names of its players, with indications of rank
(year in school, and section leader status). Another poster separately lists the
names of each of the instrument section leaders in the band. Also on the wall are
awards received from competitions and several small drawings (colorful, fan-
tastic themes unrelated to music: unicorns, rainbows, etc.).
Viewed from the entrance, the entire section of floor on the far right of the
room is raised by about six inches: a fairly large piece (approximately 10 by 5 m)
on which all the percussion instruments are placed. About eight young students
can comfortably stand in this area among the timpani, snares, cymbals, bass
drum, two marimbas, two xylophones, a bell tree, and numerous music stands.
Cubes of soundproofing material are pasted in the shape of a smiley-face on the
surface of the bass drum. To the far right, opening from the same direction as
the main entrance, is a door that leads to a small equipment room where many
students with large instruments store their cases. An old stereo speaker system
and an electric organ, both collecting dust and apparently never used, are
stacked in the corner near the equipment room. There are dozens of chairs
and music stands in rows across the room, a chalkboard with music staff
notation across part of it, two heating units (that never seem to be used), and
two microphones for stereo recording on a stand always placed near the
windows (which also never seemed to be used). In the center of the room, in
front of the windows is a podium for the conductor, a high chair, and an
electronic keyboard on an elevated stand, located conveniently to the immedi-
ate right of the conductor. To the left of the conducting podium is a Yamaha
grand piano, and against the wall are a stack of three old used ‘‘electones’’
(Japanese electronic keyboards), several enormous tuba cases, and a white
board that often has a bit of music notation written on it.
To anyone visiting this room, its purpose is surely self-evident: a space
dedicated to facilitating active music-making. Most everything found in the
room seems to serve that function, including even the notation and theoretical
analysis typically scrawled on the whiteboard. However, several features of the
room also evoke a playful atmosphere, including colorful student artwork on
the walls and smiley-face designs on the drums. The room is consistently kept
clean and organized, with no unnecessary clutter.
3.1.7 Academic Music Classes
The music room is actually used for two distinct purposes: (1) the brief periods
of required academic music courses offered during the school day, and (2) the
long periods of wind band rehearsals offered as a bukatsudo, or after-school
extracurricular club activity. Throughout Japan, the required academic music
courses in public schools emphasize music theory and appreciation, including
voice and keyboard skills, usually without any use of orchestral instruments.
These courses are offered to all students, and are organized around delivery of a
set curriculum that is nationally mandated by the Ministry of Education. As a

result, most Japanese middle school students attain some familiarity with
Western music notation, the major historical periods of European art music,
and popular music styles, and also become relatively competent in basic singing
techniques.
While this system appears to have various strengths, it has increasingly been
criticized by Japanese scholars for its unclear educational objectives, emphasis on
European classical music,19 and stifling of academic freedom. In terms of educa-
tional objectives, since World War II music education has officially existed for the
purpose of joso kyoiku (education of ‘‘sentiment’’). While this terminology is
consistently used throughout Japan Ministry of Education documents, it has
remained undefined, and scholars such as Masafumi Ogawa and Michiro Kawa-
guchi have identified it to be an imprecise goal that is actually a euphemism for
‘‘moral education’’.20 Shinobu Oku has described Japan’s curricular emphasis on
European music as the result of ‘‘a long and wrong school music education
policy,’’21 but since the time of her comments, changes in legislation (from
2001) have rather suddenly required all music teachers to teach some Japanese
traditional instruments. This development has caused a recent crisis in music
education because for more than a century Japanese music teachers had been
educated almost exclusively in European music. Masafumi Ogawa likens the new
situation to being as ‘‘if all American music educators were to have to teach
American Indian music to all American students.’’22 Ogawa’s point is not so
much to suggest that this would be an absurd proposition, but rather a very
impractical one. In terms of the stifling of academic freedom, Ogawa laments that
Japanese music teachers are not free to design their own music lessons, and
Yasuharu Takahagi observes that Japanese music teachers ‘‘tend to teach the
textbook without questioning or developing their own personal philosophy of
music education.’’23 While these required academic courses undeniably play a
significant role in the music education of all Japanese students, the extracurricu-
lar ensembles such as band arguably tend to be the domain in which Japanese
children have more meaningful musical opportunities in the school context. In
recent generations, wind bands have tended to be by far the most popular large
instrumental ensemble affiliated with Japanese schools and community centers.24
This chapter has demonstrated the physical context and educational milieu in
which Japanese school bands are situated. The next chapter will examine how
wind band rehearsals are structured in a Japanese school.
Notes
1. The importance of international studies in education generally, and music education

specifically, has been discussed in several publications, including Board on International
Comparative Studies in Education (1993); Campbell (2002, 1991), and Hargreaves and
North (2001). As Marie McCarthy indicated, ‘‘No general history of the impact of music
education on cultural life can be written until we have more studies of music education in
Notes 93
particular countries’’ (McCarthy, 1999, p. 9). Following Patricia Shehan Campbell (1991),
McCarthy (1999) referred to her own comprehensive study of music transmission in Ire-
land as a ‘‘lesson to the world’’ (p. 9). This theme is also echoed in approaches used by other
authors (Bakan, 1993/1994; Hebert, 2003). The present study seeks in a similar vein to
represent the unique case of music transmission among Japanese wind bands.
2. See Lepherd (1995), p. 3.
3. See discussion in Bresler and Stake (2006).
4. This concern has been identified in the fields of cultural anthropology and ethnomusicol-
ogy. For examples from cultural anthropology, see Gonzalez (2004), Levinson (1999),
and Ortner (2000). Examples from ethnomusicology include papers presented at annual
meetings of the Society for Ethnomusicology (Hebert, 2000, 2004). Also see Szego (2002)
and Campbell (2003, 2006).
5. Rice (2003) has produced an especially insightful overview of studies from the field of
ethnomusicology that examine the theme of music teaching and learning.
6. Kingsbury (1988) provides an ethnomusicological perspective on music education in an
American conservatory, while Nettl (1995) analyses a school of music at a Midwestern
American university from an ethnomusicological perspective. Both studies provide
important insights into the notion of talent and role of ideology in educational
institutions.
7. Nettl (1992) identifies urban studies as an important area of new development in the field
of ethnomusicology.
8. Stokes (2004) offers a thorough and insightful review of the literature in this area. Taylor
(1997) has produced one of the most comprehensive treatments of music globalization to
date, while Turino (2000) provides an especially penetrating account of the role of music
in national, local, and global identity. Nettl (2005) also identifies music ‘‘scholarship in
non-European nations’’ and ‘‘nationalism’’ as important ‘‘issues of current interest’’ in the
field of ethnomusicology (p. xii).
9. Western music art music in East Asia is the topic of one recent multi-author book (Everett
& Lau, 2004), while the history of jazz in Japan is thoroughly explored in another (Atkins,
2001).
10. See Kendall (1999), p. 1.
11. See Kendall (1999), p. 32.
12. This is according to recent Japanese government statistics. See Nihon Tokei Geppo (2004,
January).
13. For a detailed description of ‘‘chikan’’ see McLelland (2006, January).
14. The utilitarian aesthetic of Japanese school architecture is documented in previous
ethnographies of Japanese schools (Fukuzawa, 1990, p. 111; Rohlen, 1983, p. 46).
15. See Kinney (1994), p. 266.
16. See White (1993), p. 80.
17. See Cave (2004), p. 385. Cave also reported that when he revisited four high schools in
1998–99, he was told that ‘‘participation in clubs had decreased considerably compared to
a decade earlier,’’ yet it was ‘‘impossible to get precise figures’’ (Cave, 2004, p. 412).
Indeed, such figures are typically rather difficult to obtain from Japanese schools. Never-
theless, some relevant statistics are available from the Ministry of Education and such
research institutes as the Benesse Corporation. A recent Benesse survey, with 15,450
participants (515 each of boys and girls across 15 grades, including preschool), deter-
mined that nearly 30% of girls participate in some form of extracurricular music activity,
which makes music by far the most popular cultural activity among girls, compared to,
for example, the 4.6% who take ballet or the 1.6% who learn traditional Japanese tea
ceremony (Benesse Corporation, 2009).
18. See Fukuzawa (1990), p. 204. Fukuzawa (1990) also concluded that the club activities
may serve an essential social function in schools, enabling a balance to be maintained
against a severe classroom ethos that combines teacher-centered instruction with minimal
levels of student autonomy (p. 412). Among the schools Fukuzawa studied, 80% of
students belonged to such clubs (Fukuzawa, 1990, p. 363). She noted that some parents
assume participation in clubs may hinder academic achievement (Fukuzawa, 1990,
p. 390), yet the most academically successful students in her study were highly active in
such clubs. In most Japanese public middle schools, attendance in extracurricular clubs
(such as school band) was mandatory, and data indicated ‘‘teachers strongly believe that
the club experience is a significant part of a student’s education’’ (LeTendre, 2000, p. 47).
Throughout Japan, school band tends to be among the most popular club activities
offered at the middle school level, particularly among girls (Sato, 1997). Gender issues
are discussed in detail in Chapter 15.
19. Pecore (2000) examined innovative programs in which Japanese traditional music was
taught by pioneering educators in the 1990s. However, in the vast majority of Japanese
schools Western music has been taught all but exclusively, and the development of the
present situation is well documented by both Japanese and Western scholars (Ogawa,
1994; Eppstein, 1985).
20. See Ogawa (2004) for further discussion.
21. See Oku (1992), p. 99. Tokumaru (2001) appears to have been the first notable English
language publication to announce the new curricular changes.
22. See Ogawa (2004), p. 147.
23. See Takahagi (1994), p. 209.
24. This is documented by a recent survey (Mitsumori, 2003). Also see Sheldon (1998) for
discussion of Japanese community bands.
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Chapter 4
The Band Rehearsal Ritual and Its Participants
始めよければ終わりよし
Hajime yokereba owari yoshi
‘‘Well begun is half done’’
4.1 The Rehearsal Ritual
Just past 3:30 P.M., when academic classes at the Ishikawa Middle School come
to an end, students begin to enter the band room. Most band members are girls,
so their school uniforms consist of formal blouses, jackets, and pleated skirts.
Students seem especially bright and energetic upon entering the band room, as if
relieved to finally be through with sitting at their desks focused on academic
work. They greet each other and converse at length in small groups, giggling,
and enjoying themselves. The ages of these students range from 12 to 15 across
three academic grades. The younger students tend to greet older students using
keigo (formal and polite language), bowing upon greeting, and referring to them
as ‘‘Sempai’’ (senior/elder) rather than by their actual names.
At this point, if anything in the band room needs to be moved to a different
position, it is the responsibility of first-year students to do so. Sometimes if the
first-year students delay preparing the room for rehearsal by talking too long
among themselves, they are given a warning by older students. ‘‘Ichinensei,
piano!’’ (Freshman, the piano!) is all it takes to get them on track fulfilling their
duties, and a determined group of first-year students will quickly transfer the
grand piano out of the way to its correct location for the rehearsal. The
percussion section seems to operate separately from the rest of the band in
this regard, focusing exclusively on their own instruments without the assis-
tance of any students from other sections. Gradually, the music stands and
chairs, the piano, the podium, and the band director’s electronic keyboard are
all placed in their proper positions.
Now the students take out and assemble their own instruments. Clarinetists
and double reed players (oboe and bassoon) take especially long to assemble
their relatively complicated instruments. Often the clarinet players in the front
row of the band squat on the floor, facing the band, in order to piece together

98 4 The Band Rehearsal Ritual and Its Participants
their instruments by making use of their chairs as work desks for the assembly.
They chat jovially with fellow bandmembers throughout the process. Students
with larger instruments such as baritone saxophone and tuba usually take extra
time to bring them out from the storage room and maneuver them around
chairs and stands to their appropriate seating position. Those who are the first
to assemble their instruments start playing various long tones and simple motifs
(slurs and arpeggios) to ‘‘warm up’’. Soon nearly all the band members have
arrived, and on most days the membership of this ensemble consists of two boys
and more than sixty girls: a gender imbalance that is now commonplace among
Japanese school bands.1 One unusual feature of this band – yet unsurprising
considering the urban location of the school – is that two student members
appear to be foreigners (non-Japanese). Both girls, an Indian-Japanese and an
Iranian-Japanese, perform in the percussion section.
Rehearsals of the Ishikawa Middle School band proceed according to a well-
established routine. I identified six components that consistently appeared in
the rehearsals: chuuningu (tuning), kiritsu (attention), hajime (beginning), gas-
sou (full band rehearsal), paatore (sectional rehearsal), and owari (ending). In
this chapter, each of these six components of the rehearsal process will be
described in detail.
4.1.1 Chuuningu
Once the Ishikawa Middle School band members have assembled their instru-
ments and played a few notes, it is time for ‘‘chuuningu’’ (tuning). The Bucho
(club leader) and Fukubucho (assistant club leader) walk to the front of the band
and call out to the ensemble, ‘‘Chuuningu!’’. Everyone stops playing their instru-
ments while the Bucho plays a Bb in octaves on the electronic keyboard that has
been placed beside the conducting podium. The Fukubucho holds out a black
palm-sized tuner in the direction of a clarinetist. ‘‘Hai!’’, she indicates to the
clarinetist to play a pitch on her instrument. The clarinetist takes a breath and
plays a long note, at full volume, attempting to precisely match the pitch of the
keyboard with her own sound. The tuner is held in her direction in the Fukubu-
cho’s outstretched arm, yet positioned in such a way that only the Fukubucho can
see the verdict of the tuning device. She immediately tells the clarinetist if her
pitch is accurate, sharp, or flat. Once the clarinetist plays the pitch to the
satisfaction of the Fukubucho (usually the first time is fine, but sometimes a
second or third try is needed after some quick adjustments to the instrument),
this identical process proceeds down the long row of clarinet players. The Bucho
again plays a Bb, each of the instrumentalists individually attempt to match it,
their pitch is assessed, and the process continues moving on to each member of
each section of the enormous band (except for percussion), concluding with the
lowest pitched instruments, such as trombones, tuba, and string bass.
4.1 The Rehearsal Ritual 99
Around the time that this tuning procedure concludes, the band director,
Kato Sensei, will arrive. She usually enters the room as the final low instruments
finish their tuning, for she is able to hear this process from her office, just down
the hall. However, on some days she is delayed by staff meetings, and students
will return to ‘‘doodling’’ on their instruments at this point, while the Bucho or
Fukubucho leave the band room in order to find Kato Sensei so she can start the
rehearsal.
4.1.2 Kiritsu
Within the split second that Kato Sensei enters the band room, the Bucho and
Fukubucho call out loudly, ‘‘Kiritsu!’’ (roughly the equivalent of ‘‘attention!’’ as
used in military organizations). All the student band members immediately
stand at attention, silently holding their instruments. It takes several seconds
of this intense silence for Kato Sensei to reach the podium at the front of the
classroom, where she turns around to face the band. ‘‘Rei!’’ is called out by the
Bucho and Fukubucho, and all the students make a deep bow toward Kato
Sensei, calling out in unison, ‘‘Onegaishimasu!’’ (Please!). The band members
then return to their seated position, and sit in absolute silence while they wait
for Kato Sensei’s instructions.
4.1.3 Hajime
Kato Sensei is a middle-aged woman who has taught music in Japanese public
middle schools for 22 years. She definitely stands out among the enormous
group of young students. While the student uniforms feature a striking contrast
of white shirts against sharp blue blazers, Kato Sensei is typically dressed in
buttoned shirts and trousers of darker, subtle shades. She always wears glasses,
a modicum of makeup, minimal jewelry, and sensible shoes, and keeps her hair
a manageable length. Kato Sensei’s appearance suggests the demeanor of a
serious woman who has devoted her life to her profession.2 Typically, once
Kato Sensei reaches the podium and the students are seated, she merely says
‘‘Hajime mashiyou’’ (Let’s begin), and immediately plays Bb octaves on her
keyboard. First she has the band play a Bb major scale in whole notes, up and
down, within the range most comfortable for each instrument. The percussion
section accompanies the scale with steady eighth notes on the snare and half
notes on the bass drum. At the end of the final whole note of the scale (on root
position Bb), Kato Sensei gives a firm gesture, and the band switches from the
unison octaves to full chords on whole notes. At first they play a Bb major
chord, then the IV chord of Bb (an Eb major chord with Bb as its root), then
return to the I chord (Bb major again), then the V7 chord (an F7 chord with A
as its root), and finally return to end on a long, sustained Bb major I chord.
Fig. 4.1 Tuning motif
On most days this is the extent of the warm up, but sometimes Kato Sensei
has certain sections of the band tune their instruments once again, or instructs
them through some additional warm-up exercises. In cases when Sensei asks
specific band members to re-tune at this stage, she usually has them play a
specific motif rather than merely a single Bb whole-note. This tuning motif
consists of quarter notes: Bb, down to F, up to C (above the first Bb), down to A
(just below the first Bb) and back to Bb (Fig. 4.1).
4.1.4 Gassou
At this point, Kato Sensei may instruct some instrumental sections to go to

separate rooms for paatore (sectional rehearsal), or she may have the entire
band remain for gassou (full band rehearsal). First, I will describe gassou. Kato
Sensei announces the name of the piece to be rehearsed and the location in the
music at which the band will begin playing. The students immediately shuffle
through their folders in order to quickly place the sheet music on their stands.
They hold their instruments in playing position. Typically, Kato Sensei will
conduct the band through two to three pieces per rehearsal, stopping often to
make comments, and requiring the band to play certain parts repeatedly until
they obtain her approval. Common statements made by Kato Sensei at such
pauses in band performance are ‘‘That’s not matching’’ and ‘‘That sounds
strange.’’ She seeks explanations from the instrument section leaders, and
then returns to conducting the ensemble with a comment such as ‘‘You must
try harder’’ or merely, ‘‘Again!’’ In rehearsal, students do not directly ask
questions of Kato Sensei, but they are expected to reply to any questions she
may have regarding problems in their own performance. Kato Sensei asks
questions particularly of section leaders, requiring them to take responsibility
for concerns within their own instrumental section and to commit to resolving
such problems within their paatore (sectional rehearsals). In instances where
Kato Sensei provides a specific instruction, such as ‘‘From now on we must play
this section more softly’’, students throughout the entire ensemble immediately
respond with a unison ‘‘Hai!’’ (Yes!). This practice very closely resembles the
‘‘Yes sir!’’ associated with military organizations.
The band rehearsal usually continues under Kato Sensei’s guidance on a
daily basis for approximately 90 min on every weekday, and typically lasts for
several hours on Saturdays and Sundays during most weeks. Throughout the
entire process, students are remarkably well-behaved. They sit quietly and
attentively, and precisely follow Kato Sensei’s instructions. Section leaders
are occasionally seen whispering instructions to younger students, but no ‘‘off
4.1 The Rehearsal Ritual 101
task’’ or even remotely distracting behavior is visible. No disciplinary problems

were observed within the band rehearsals across a full academic year of field-
work.3 Considering that the band members are young adolescent middle school
students, this case represented a truly remarkable example of educational
discipline.
4.1.5 Paatore
Students refer to band sectional rehearsals as paatore, an elision of the English

word ‘‘part’’ (for instrumental part) and the Japanese word for practice
(renshuu). Combined in this way, as is common among Japanese slang terms,
it sounds roughly like ‘‘part-prac’’. These intense, small group rehearsal sessions
of like instruments play a key role for musical learning within the ensemble.
Typically, nearly half of the rehearsal time of each week is spent in paatore, most
often during the first hour of band rehearsal (3:30–4:30 P.M.), but for much
longer on days when Kato Sensei is busy with faculty meetings. Usually each
instrumental section practices without Kato Sensei’s supervision, but occasion-
ally, when she wants to focus her attention on rehearsing a particular group of
instruments through a troublesome section in the music, the others are sent
away from the band room for paatore. Since the band rehearses after school, the
classrooms in both wings of the U-shaped building are empty of students.4 This
situation has many acoustic advantages. The trumpet and trombone sections,
as the loudest instruments, usually practice in rooms at the far ends of each
wing. The clarinet, flute, French horn, and saxophone sections each take their
own rooms. The double reed instruments (oboe and bassoon) sometimes
rehearse in their own rooms, but occasionally join the flutists. Tubas also
alternate between joining with the trombones and running their own separate
sectional rehearsal. The percussionists usually stay in the band room, because
many of their instruments are especially heavy and difficult to move.
Once assembled in their separate rooms, students are free to practice indivi-
dually for about 15 min. This often produces a rather chaotic cacophony of
sound, particularly in the rooms occupied by brass players. While one student
plays long tones, for example, another will tongue rapidly through a chromatic
scale. In the opposite corner of the same room, one plays through lip slur
patterns, another blurts out flatulent pedal tones and laughs hysterically,
another competes with her partner to see who can play the highest or loudest
note, and yet another intensely drills through a section of some sheet music to
the insistent and infallible pulse of a metronome. Eventually, after about 15 min
of anarchic noise, the section leader announces that it is time to begin and the
room immediately falls silent. What happens next varies greatly, depending
upon each section leader’s personality and leadership style. Some section lea-
ders run their paatore as though it were a smaller version of the full band gassou
rehearsal, directing like Kato Sensei from the front of the room, modeling the
desired sounds on their own instrument, and pounding out rhythms onto a desk
or chair. Others have their section members ‘‘pair up’’ in dyads (of one older and
one younger player), enabling the monitoring of more individualistic tutoring.
Many of the behaviors observed in paatore exemplify highly effective features of
cooperative learning and peer tutoring.5 Paatore always ends at an arranged
time (which varies, day by day), enabling students to return to the band room
for a gassou full-group rehearsal or concluding instructions from Kato Sensei.
4.1.6 Owari
The band rehearsal typically ends with a final statement from Kato Sensei,
often a criticism such as ‘‘Next time you must do more to keep on pitch!’’ or
‘‘Today you did not do your best, and you must commit to giving your very best
at every rehearsal!’’ Her concluding remark is followed by, ‘‘Soredewa, owari ni
shimasu’’ (With that, we will end). At this point, all the students immediately
stand as ‘‘Kiritsu!’’ is called again by the Bucho and Fukubucho. Then, with the
command of ‘‘Rei!’’ all the band members bow toward Kato Sensei in unison,
saying ‘‘Arigatou gozaimashita’’ (Thank you very much). At this point, Kato
Sensei leaves the podium and the band members all scramble to put their
instruments back into cases and prepare to leave. This ritualized rehearsal
pattern was remarkably consistent across each of the band observations at
various points in the academic year.
4.2 Band Participants
In order to guide the reader in understanding the nature of interactions within

this ensemble, it is necessary to introduce several Japanese terms used by the
school band members to indicate various people associated with the band.
4.2.1 Ranks and Roles
Below is a detailed description of terms used to indicate the ranking of various

participants, followed by a description of their roles and responsibilities
(Fig. 4.2).
Kocho Sensei. Probably the most unusual aspect of the middle school
selected for this study is that it is led by a Principal who is also a highly active
musician. He is a notable leader in the field of school music education, having
served in recent years as President of three relevant organizations: Tokyo
Middle School Music Educators Association, Tokyo Middle School Band
Directors Association, and Japan Jazz Educators Association.6 Within the
4.2 Band Participants 103
Japanese Title English Equivalent
Kocho Sensei Schoolmaster (or Principal)
Buraban Sensei Band club teacher/coach
Bucho Band club leader (elected student)
Fukubucho Assistant band club leader (an elected

student)
Paatorida Section leader (e.g. principal

clarinetist)
Sempai Student with seniority (term used

in oppositional relationship to kohai)
Kohai Younger student (term used in

oppositional relationship with
sempai)
Fig. 4.2 Ranks and roles in the school band
school context, the principal is sometimes referred to by the generic ‘‘Sensei’’,

but more often by his full title, ‘‘Kocho Sensei’’ (meaning ‘‘school-head-tea-
cher’’). He is regarded as fully competent and diligent worker, and highly
respected by his peers, as well as teachers and students within the school.
Buraban Sensei. ‘‘Buraban Sensei’’ means band teacher, and the conductor of
the band club at Ishikawa Middle School is Ms. Kato. In the band context,
students merely refer to her as ‘‘Sensei’’, but to outsiders she is described as the
‘‘Buraban Sensei’’ at their school. Statistically, women band directors have
become the norm in Japanese schools, yet very few have gained a solid reputa-
tion for leading bands to the highest levels of national competition. However,
the Ishikawa Middle School band has recently attained a gold medal under the
baton of Kato Sensei. She works as the school’s full-time music teacher, and is
employed primarily to teach academic music courses, yet is also expected to
serve as faculty advisor for the extra-curricular band club. A clear picture of the
personality of this devoted teacher, her background, instructional objectives,
and coaching strategies will emerge throughout this book, but is especially
demonstrated in Chapters 10 and 12.
In terms of her role within the band, Kato Sensei’s position is endowed with
power to make final decisions affecting the ensemble. While the Kocho Sensei
occasionally makes suggestions, Kato Sensei appears to be highly competent,
and there is never any indication that her decisions might be over-ruled. It is
also clear that students, though technically considered leaders of the club, are
expected to submit to their Buraban Sensei’s authority while she conducts from
the podium. Throughout the fieldwork, no decisions based on explicit voting
practices were observed within rehearsals. Rather, Kato Sensei publicly made
decisions from the podium, possibly with some private input from student
leaders or the Kocho Sensei. This style of leadership is similar to that seen
throughout the entire Japanese educational system, including universities,
which lack transparency in their administrative decisions and discourage the
formation of both student governments and authentically democratic govern-
ance procedures among their faculty. Still, the band club is considered a
student-run organization, and the Buraban Sensei’s role differs from that of a
classroom music teacher. Unlike academic courses, the advisors of such student
clubs are not constrained by a mandatory curriculum, the need to produce
student evaluations, nor accountability to the Ministry of Education. The most
significant assessment of their work as student club advisors comes from public
performances and ratings at competitions.
Bucho. Literally, ‘‘club leader’’, this is the highest level elected student posi-
tion within the ensemble, typically a student in his or her final year of middle
school (grade 9, ages 14–15). The Bucho assists the Buraban Sensei with
numerous tasks during full band rehearsals and is responsible for maintaining
discipline within the organization and ensuring that the Buraban Sensei is
informed of any problems that cannot be adequately resolved at the student
level. The Bucho holds private meetings with student groups in order to discuss
concerns and resolve minor disputes before they become significant enough to
require the intervention of the Buraban Sensei. In this respect, the role of Bucho
is more powerful than is typical of student leaders in the school ensembles of
Western nations, particularly at the middle school level. However, many par-
allels may be seen with the organizational structure of athletic organizations,
including martial arts.
Fukubucho. Literally, ‘‘vice club leader’’, this is the second highest level
elected student position within the ensemble, and tends to be occupied by a
second year student (grade 8, ages 13–14), as it is assumed that this person will
be automatically promoted to the rank of Bucho in her or her final year of
school. In this way, the Fukubucho is mentored by the Bucho, while serving for
a year as her assistant.
Paatorida. This term, (derived from the English words ‘‘part’’ and ‘‘leader’’),
denotes the first chair player of each instrumental section. Typically both the
Bucho and Fukubucho are also Paatorida within their respective instrumental
sections. The Paatorida are responsible for running sectional rehearsals and are
expected to shoulder the responsibility for any errors within the musical per-
formance of their instrumental section. Students who are not Paatorida are
expected to feel a moral obligation to follow directions and carefully imitate the
performance of the Paatorida in order for their sound to blend with the
ensemble.
Sempai and Kohai. Literally, ‘‘Senior’’ and ‘‘Junior’’, these oppositional
terms refer to the combination of age and experience attributed to different
‘‘gakunen’’ (school grades). There are three gakunen in the school: Ichinensei
(first-year student), Ninensei (second-year student), and Sannensei (third-year
students). Compared with the American educational system, these roughly
4.2 Band Participants 105
correspond with grade 7 (ages 12–13), grade 8 (ages 13–14), and grade 9 (ages
14–15), respectively. The system of Sempai/Kohai relations is referred to in
Japanese as ‘‘jougekankei’’. This system of hierarchical organization is based
exclusively on seniority, which means that regardless of ability, a Ninensei is
automatically Sempai to an Ichinensei Kohai, and so on. Students with seniority
are considered responsible for guiding those with less experience, who in return
are expected to submit to the commands of their elders. Students of the same
gakunen (school grade) are referred to as ‘‘dokyusei’’. Lacking a firmly pre-
established hierarchy, dokyusei are most prone to rivalry.
4.2.2 Jougekankei System
Jougekankei (literally ‘‘higher-lower relationships’’) is the Japanese term used to

describe the distinctive form of mentorship associated with many domains
within Japanese society. Cultural anthropologist Theodore Bestor, who has
conducted extensive fieldwork in Tokyo, made the following observations
regarding jougekankei:
Relationships between kohai and senpai – between a subordinate and a superior, based
on seniority within an educational institution or a bureaucratic organization – char-
acterize Japanese social life in many domains: higher education, companies, govern-
ment bureaucracies, political parties, and artistic groups, among others. Typically a
kohai may rely on his or her senpai for advice and aid; in turn a senpai should be able
to count on the kohai’s loyalty and respect. Such ties – based on elementary school
classes – function at the level of neighborhood social relationships, too, and even well
into adult life senpai retain some degree of moral authority over their kohai.7
In the context of the Ishikawa Middle School band, jougekankei was reified
by Kato Sensei through her frequent use of rank terms (rather than names)
when addressing students, as well as her consistent instructions directed to
younger students that they must follow the directions of senior students. Typi-
cally, at several points within every rehearsal, Kato Sensei made explicit instruc-
tions in this regard, such as ‘‘Trumpet section leader, have them get this worked
out in your sectional’’, and ‘‘First year clarinetists, if you still can’t figure out the
fingerings, just follow your Sempai’’. This kind of discourse clearly encouraged
students to acknowledge and appreciate their prescribed roles and fulfil their
obligations to the ensemble.
Scholars have suggested that the traditional Japanese system of jougekankei
social organization enables social cohesion and stability at the expense of
discouraging innovation and individual creativity. The very same tenacity
that enabled Japanese society to preserve traditions that completely disap-
peared in other nations (such as gagaku court music) may also – in theory –
hinder the development of potentially beneficial social change.8 Some criticisms
of school bands offered by Japanese music educationists have emphasized the
effects of jougekankei and ‘‘militaristic’’ practices within these ensembles.9
Depending on the personal qualities of those in positions of seniority,
jougekankei may engender highly effective mentorship. However, some con-

temporary Japanese view jougekankei as a social practice of dubious efficacy,
and question its role within education.10
School bands may serve as an important example of how young Japanese
are enculturated (or socialized) into jougekankei, which enables them to pre-
pare for functioning as well-adjusted adults in a hierarchical society. To some
degree it seems accurate to suggest that school bands of any nation may serve
as a form of enculturation and socialization, yet the kinds of lessons learned
from the school band experience may differ greatly between cultures. From
this basic introduction to the rehearsal ritual and key participants in the
Ishikawa Middle School Band, a picture of a rather different musical culture
is already emerging, one that may challenge readers to rethink the implica-
tions, and ultimately, the limitations of music education. The next chapter will
examine precisely how musical lessons are taught in the context of the Ishi-
kawa Middle School Band.
Notes
1. See Shinzanno (2000), p. 118.

2. Kato Sensei’s personality, educational training, daily schedule, and responsibilities as a
school music teacher and band director are discussed in detail within Chapters 10 and 12,
and her approach to band directing is analyzed in Chapter 5.
3. The only exception was the ‘‘Kimigayo incident’’ described in Chapter 16.
4. See Fig. 2.1 for a visual layout of the Ishikawa Middle School’s architectural design.
5. A detailed description of how cooperative learning and peer tutoring are incorporated
into rehearsals is provided in Chapter 11.
6. Relevant Japanese organizations and institutions in the fields of wind bands and music
education are described in detail within Chapters 12 and 13.
7. See Bestor (1989), p. 220.
8. See Roesgaard (1998) for further discussion.
9. See Koide (2000).
10. See Sugimoto (1997), pp. 131–132.
References
Bestor, T. C. (1989). Neighborhood Tokyo. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press.

Koide, M. (2000). Suisogaku shidoniokeru kyoujukoui kenkyuno hitsuyosei [The importance
of studying teaching conduct in school brass band instruction]. In Ongaku Kyoikugaku
Kenkyu, II [Music Education Research Studies] (pp. 21–30). Tokyo: Ongakuno Tomosha
(for the Japan Academic Society for Music Education).
University Press.
References 107
Shinzanno, M. (2000). Kyoushito seitono yakuwariwo meikakunishita gakko suisoigaku

katsudou seisenkani kansuru ichishian [A new approach to organizing school band
programs: Re-examination of the relationship between band director and band students].
In Ongaku Kyoikugaku Kenkyu, II [Music Education Research Studies] (pp. 116–129).
Tokyo: Ongakuno Tomosha (for the Japan Academic Society for Music Education).
Sugimoto, Y. (1997). An introduction to Japanese society. Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press.
Chapter 5
Instruction in the Japanese School Band
学問に王道なし
Gakumonni oudou nashi
‘‘There is no royal path to learning’’ – perseverance is essential
for all
Teaching is a complex human endeavour that is difficult to describe with

accuracy, yet observers are usually quite confident in their ability to identify
‘‘good teaching’’ with relative certainty. This becomes more difficult, however,
when the underlying objectives of the teaching are unclear. In the case of music,
effective teaching may look quite different if one’s objectives are to guide
students toward masterfully performing a particular piece, or toward being
able to accurately identify various components of musical structure, to effec-
tively sight-read or creatively improvise in a musical tradition, or to convin-
cingly demonstrate their patriotic sentiments through song. The practice of
effective music teaching requires a guiding philosophy to serve as a basis for
instruction.
I originally embarked on this study partly in the hope of uncovering peda-
gogical ‘‘secrets of success’’ associated with the miraculous model of Japanese
school bands portrayed in English-language articles. It was only through the
actual experience of fieldwork that an accurate understanding of the band
director’s role was fully realized. There are certainly musical ‘‘miracles’’ that
happen as young people develop the skill and the sensibility to play music
together so well within the ensemble, and there are decidedly many techniques
that the band director employs to raise students to such a high level of musician-
ship. But, as will be demonstrated, it is striking that the Japanese band director
actually teaches less than American school band directors in terms of musical
concepts and instrumental techniques. How, then, are the students learning?
A key factor appears to be time. A competitive Japanese school band consis-
tently rehearses four to five times as much as many American school ensembles.
On an average week, the Ishikawa Middle School band rehearsed over 20 h
(including day-long rehearsals on Saturday), compared with a typical schedule
of less than 5 h/week of band rehearsals at many American middle schools. My
110 5 Instruction in the Japanese School Band
survey revealed similar rehearsal schedules among other Japanese bands. On

the week prior to the All-Japan Band Association competition, while most of
the Ishikawa Middle School was on vacation, the band practiced from 9 A.M. to
6 P.M. every day, including the weekend, for a total of over 50 h of rehearsal in a
single week (July 22–29). The rehearsal schedule in the week prior to the final
concert of the year was also remarkably strenuous, exceeding 30 h in a single
week through its combination of extended evening rehearsals and all-day
rehearsals on Saturday and Sunday (March 16–23).
Outside the factor of rehearsal time, the most striking features of Japanese
bands as successful student ensembles were determined to be more closely
associated with effective learning strategies than with particular pedagogies.
Specifically, musical learning advanced through the ritualization of peer
tutoring practices within the school band culture (examined in detail within
Chapter 11). It is important to note, however, that the school ensembles of any
nation may be considered in terms of culture, and as such, may still remain
malleable to the insightful leadership of effective teachers.1 In other words,
although it may not be appropriate to seek exemplary demonstrations of
effective instruction from the coaching of a ‘‘student-led club’’, Western music
teachers may still have much to learn from a Japanese school band, particularly
in terms of ways to nurture the development of a culture of musical achievement
within their own ensembles.
With these points in mind, there are two especially useful models for com-
parison that seem to offer helpful context for consideration of the instructional
approach of a Japanese school band director: (1) Athletic coach, and (2) Hogaku
sensei, or teacher of Japanese traditional music. These choices for comparison
may come as a surprise, but are proposed in all sincerity, and I hope readers will
consider this explanation with an open mind.
5.1 Band Director as Coach
Prior to description of specific instructional strategies used in the Japanese

school band, a crucial point must be made clear. The institutional role of a
Japanese school band director may in many ways more closely resemble the
Western notion of an athletic ‘‘coach’’2 than a ‘‘school music teacher.’’ There
appear to be seven considerations that lend support to this metaphorical asser-
tion: (1) The band is an after-school extracurricular activity that coincides with,
and serves a parallel institutional function to, athletic activities; (2) Like sports,
the annual schedule of band activities is structured around competitive events,
and the band’s repertoire is profoundly affected by the requirements of these
competitions; (3) The band director’s leadership style emphasizes repetitive
drills, and the motivation of students to persevere with their greatest efforts
(rather than focusing on learning and mastery of musical concepts); (4) Sig-
nificant responsibilities are bestowed on student leaders within the band, who,
like ‘‘team captains,’’ football quarterbacks, and the like, are largely credited
5.2 Band Director as Hogaku Sensei 111
with the successes and failures of the band organization; (5) Like sports, the
coaching of the student-run ensemble is not explicitly considered to be ‘‘teach-
ing’’, as educational objectives for school bands are not addressed by Japan’s
powerful Ministry of Education, the All-Japan Band Association, or any other
relevant institutions, and are not explicitly defined by individual schools or
band directors; (6) The band director and club leaders emphasize the winning of
band competitions, and focus on building teamwork skills and esprit de corps
through the ensemble, rather than on facilitation of comprehensive musical
knowledge or achievement of educational ‘‘standards’’ in music; and (7) The
band director may be employed as the teacher of an academic subject other than
music, particularly in cases where the school music teacher has no band experi-
ence. Again, this situation resembles the familiar model of a math teacher who
coaches a volleyball team (instead of the P.E. teacher, for example).
Clearly, the role of the Japanese school band director is quite different from
that associated with American schools, and in terms of familiarity, the Amer-
ican sports coach model may serve as a useful analogy. Yet, aspects of this
model are not completely unfamiliar in the field of music. A Japanese school
band may share some similarities with the model of marching bands often
encountered in American schools, as these may be extracurricular offerings,
and tend to emphasize competition, uniformity, and teamwork. Other key
points may also be shared with various community ensembles in Western
nations.
5.2 Band Director as Hogaku Sensei
To Japanese readers, it may seem far-fetched to compare a school band director

with a teacher of Japanese traditional music, such as koto or shakuhachi, but
for those less familiar with Japanese culture I am convinced that useful insights
may be gained from the exercise of making this comparison. A number of music
education researchers and ethnomusicologists have produced models precisely
for the purpose of comparing traditional music teaching pedagogies, some of
whom have even addressed Japan using a comparative framework.3 But prior
to discussion of the characteristics of hogaku (Japanese traditional music)
pedagogy, and comparison with wind band conducting, it is necessary to briefly
discuss its traditional institutional context, referred to as the ‘‘iemoto system’’.
In Japanese language, iemoto refers to the figurehead of an artistic school, and
for each Japanese traditional art form there are typically several exclusive
schools. Students are expected to commit to studies within a single school,
and to gradually climb through its ranks by developing seniority. Within this
system students are typically expected to devote themselves to a single teacher,
and are discouraged from studying the traditions of rival schools. Gerald
Groemer, a leading ethnomusicologist of Japan who translated Nishiyama’s
authoritative text on the subject of Edo-period traditions, defined this model as
‘‘a hierarchical system in which a real or nominal family head (iemoto) passes on
a ‘house art’ to disciples who in turn may have their own pupils.’’4 The iemoto
model appears to have influenced the institutionalization of Western music in
Japanese schools, particularly in terms of emphasis placed on pedagogical
lineage and authority associated with Japan’s ‘‘prestigious’’ conservatories.
Ricardo Trimillos identified the status of the hogaku sensei as an important
factor in the pedagogy of Japanese traditional music: ‘‘Status is certainly part of
the system. The status of sensei, teacher, is much more than one from whom you
learn music. The sensei is a status so high above the student . . .’’5 Trimillos also
identified teacher modeling and student creativity as key issues in hogaku
pedagogy: ‘‘In the learning context, creativity and individual expression are
discouraged. Rather, the goal is to perform the piece exactly as the teacher has
presented it.’’6 Andreas Gutzwiller observed that teacher modeling is empha-
sized in shakuhachi flute instruction, and that verbal instructions are intention-
ally avoided. He found that from the perspective of the shakuhachi sensei, ‘‘Any
explanation from the side of the teacher in a medium other than music imposes
a progress on the student from without. And only the progress the student has
made at his own pace, without being urged to do so, is the progress that
counts.’’7 This observation also suggests that motivation is the responsibility
of students in this model, and that (unlike some Western pedagogical
approaches) teachers are not expected to provide enthusiastic affirmation,
cheering their students on toward achievement of sequentially arranged and
clearly delineated objectives. In other words, aspects of this traditional model
that has withstood the test of time over many generations appear to contradict
Western theories of effective instruction.8 Essentially, the Sensei simply models
the correct sounds, and the student imitates.
Another important theme in the traditional pedagogy of koto, shakuhachi,
and other Japanese instruments is its emphasis on spiritual concepts associated
with Zen Buddhism. In a chapter of his book, Six Hidden Views of Japanese
Music, ethnomusicologist William P. Malm recalled his experiences as both a
student and teacher of Japanese traditional music. According to Malm, ‘‘a
Japanese lesson is ritually and intellectually structured in such a way that its
ultimate goal may be spiritual rather than musical.’’9 Malm explained that in
Japanese traditional music, modeling of performance skills tends to be more
effective than any attempts to provide explanations (in his role as both student
and teacher). Malm also mentioned the importance of ritual movement in
performance as a means by which to mentally focus on the aesthetic and
spiritual objectives. This respectful view of Japanese traditional pedagogy is
far removed from Malm’s own interpretation over 25 years earlier in which he
wrote, ‘‘As a teaching method, hogaku instruction seems unnecessarily tedious.
The rote method, as used in Japan, is constantly in danger of producing musical
automatons.’’10
According to Patrick Halliwell (a Canadian koto player/ethnomusicologist),
‘‘traditional teaching methods in Japanese koto music may be generally
described as follows: (1) there is virtually no explicit ‘theory’ or teaching of
5.3 Instructional Process 113
theory as it is known in the West; (2) there are no ‘exercises;’ the teaching of
instrumental and vocal technique is integrated with the teaching of musical
‘text;’ (3) there is no explicit conceptual distinction between ‘text’ and ‘inter-
pretation;’ one learns to play following the teacher’s example; (4) there is very
little verbal explanation, either of technique or of musical or expressive con-
tent.’’11 Additionally, Halliwell noted the following observations regarding
hogaku pedagogy: (5) playing together is fundamental; (6) teachers may use
speech, shoga (oral representation of musical sound), or purely musical means
to convey information to the student; (7) notation, often used nowadays, is
nevertheless of relatively minor importance.12
Interestingly, as I will demonstrate, there are similarities to be found between
Japanese school band directing and hogaku pedagogy, on a number of points.
These include (1) emphasis placed on institutional lineage (e.g. the program
from which a band director graduated or experts she has studied under),
(2) respect shown to the band director by her students through both verbal
and non-verbal codes of behavior, (3) emphasis on teacher modeling and
student imitation of musical phrases, (4) minimal role of creativity on the part
of students, (5) minimal verbal instruction from the teacher, particularly
regarding performance technique, (6) emphasis on spiritual and personal devel-
opment rather than only musical skills, (7) emphasis on repetition (which is
sometimes viewed as tedious), (8) minimal role of notational literacy (such as
practice of sight reading), (9) emphasis on drilling of actual pieces rather than
technical exercises, (10) minimal discussion of musical interpretation (since
recordings provide a definitive model for bands while the Sensei directly per-
forms the model in hogaku), and (11) emphasis on playing together. With this
background in mind, it now seems best to proceed by describing exactly what
the Japanese school band director does in rehearsals.
5.3 Instructional Process
This section will examine Kato Sensei’s pedagogical approach in rehearsals of

the Ishikawa Middle School band, particularly in terms of major themes of
interest to Western music educators.13 Kato Sensei directed the band from a
podium, usually from a seated position on her high stool. With a short baton,
she indicated the rhythmic pulse through a beat pattern that varied in trajectory
to convey accents and articulation. With her free hand, Kato Sensei indicated
dynamic levels and cued instrumental parts. Her conducting style was efficient
and clear. Certainly, during the expressive moments of certain pieces
(e.g. ‘‘Swan Lake’’), she would stand and gracefully convey the phrasing
through dance-like gestures, but for the most part Kato Sensei conducted
with a concise and consistent pattern, free of expressive distractions. Kato
Sensei’s rehearsals consisted of intense, high paced, semi-sequential patterns
of instruction. Typically, she made extensive use of repetition and sparingly
provided concise verbal criticisms. Kato Sensei would indicate a cut-off gesture
with her baton and make a 2- to 5-second statement toward one of the instru-
mental sections. Among her most commonly used phrases in this regard were
the sequence ‘‘Nani sore? Mo ichido!’’ (What’s that? Again!), followed by an
immediate repetition of the objectionable musical phrase, cued with her baton.
This was often followed by a comment such as ‘‘Mada’’ (Not yet) or ‘‘Mo ikkai’’
(Once more) and another repetition of the same musical material, repetition
with or without specific feedback, cued with the baton. Kato Sensei’s semi-
sequential method of band directing may be distilled to a 5-point model con-
sisting of music-making, problem identification, repetition with or without
specific feedback, instructor modeling, and transfer to section leaders (Fig. 5.1).
Kato Sensei’s five-point approach was effective for obtaining solutions to
most musical problems in the ensemble, but differs in some ways with the notion
of ‘‘sequential patterns of instruction’’ associated with American band peda-
gogy.14 She began by conducting the band through a piece of music (point 1)
Kato Sensei’s 5-Point Approach to Band Directing

(1) Music-making
(2) Problem identification
(3) Repetition, with or without specific feedback
(4) Direct modeling
(5) Assignment to section leaders
1. Music-making. Tells the band where to start, gives a preparatory gesture, and begins
conducting the band through a piece of music.
2. Problem identification. Cuts off the band when a significant problem is heard. Verbally directs
relevant student’s attention to the problematic area, or simply tells them which part to repeat
without specific verbal feedback. “Mo ichido” (Again).
3. Repetition, with or without specific feedback. Conducts a specific instrumental section (e.g.,
clarinets), or the entire band, through a repetition of the problematic musical segment. If the
problem then appears to be solved, continues conducting the ensemble further through the
music until the next problem is encountered; then repeats the sequence (from steps 1 to 3). In
each case, if the problem is not solved immediately, moves on to step 4. If step 4 has already
been attempted, moves on to step 5.
4. Direct modeling. If the problem is not solved after step 3, provides a model for the students.
For missed notes or intonation problems entailing chords or complex intervals, uses keyboard
for modeling. Phrasing of melodic lines is modeled through use of the voice. Uses either hand
clapping or vocables to model complex rhythms and accents. Returns to step 3.
5. Assignment to section leaders. If the section leader appears to be playing her part correctly,
encourages the individual to play once through the problematic section on her instrument; then
returns to step 3 with the entire relevant instrumental section. But if it appears that even the
section leader is incapable of playing the part correctly without individual practice, instructs
her to solve this problem in the sectional rehearsals, and returns to step 1. If the problem
persists, overlooksit temporarily in order to focus on other more immediately solvable
concerns.
Fig. 5.1 Kato Sensei’s 5-point approach to band conducting

5.3 Instructional Process 115
until she noticed a problem in their performance (point 2), at which time she
would stop the ensemble and have them repeat the problematic section (point 3).
Upon reaching points 2 and 3, it is significant that Kato Sensei would often
require the ensemble to repeat a musical segment without specifying her reason
for doing so. This practice might seem ineffective in terms of the potential
clarity missed in the absence of precise feedback, yet it is also conceivable that
the curiosity piqued by this absence of specificity might aid in facilitating the
development of independent problem-solving skills among students. In such
cases, students are encouraged by Kato Sensei to think musically in order to
determine for themselves what adjustments must be made before being per-
mitted by their conductor to cease the repetitions and continue on to the rest of
the music. This pedagogical characteristic resembles the notions of enryo
(restraint or subtlety) and hitoni meiwakuwo kakenai (one mustn’t speak dis-
tressingly to another) characteristic of Japanese discourse, whereby the speaker
avoids directly communicating a key point that should be obvious to a mindful
and empathetic other.
Point 4 (direct modeling) is the key stage in Kato Sensei’s approach at which
she contributes her own musicality to the process. Conducting always with an
electronic keyboard conveniently placed beside the podium, Kato Sensei would
immediately put it to use for the modeling of problematic sections. She often
used the keyboard to model melodic excerpts, and also ‘‘scatted’’ some sections
in order to demonstrate vocally how she hoped students would play their parts.
Keyboard was used particularly for sections with harmony or unusual inter-
vallic relationships, while voice was used to demonstrate the phrasing and
expressive contours of key melodic lines. Kato Sensei’s choice of vocables
enabled her to immediately express the style and articulation of musical
phrases: ‘‘tu, tu-tu-tu’’ for a staccato rhythm, and ‘‘la, la-la, loo’’ for a broader,
legato style. When students became too tired to play, particularly during
lengthy weekend rehearsals, she would also have them sing through their
parts. Point 5 (assignment to section leaders) was reached several times in
each rehearsal, yet this transfer of responsibility also served paradoxically as
an effective leadership strategy. It enabled Kato Sensei to instill respect for the
strongest players, reinforce a sense of duty associated with the ensemble hier-
archy, and specify tasks to be completed by students in their peer-tutored
sectional rehearsals.
Rather than a ‘‘positive and relaxed music-making atmosphere,’’15 the tone
of the Ishikawa Middle School band rehearsals was quite formal and even
rather severe at times. However, as will be discussed, interactions within the
sectional rehearsals were friendly, as most of the older students patiently
devoted attention to guiding the younger students toward achievement. In
The Cambridge Companion to Conducting, Barber advises ensemble conductors
to use humor: ‘‘Make jokes. Self-deprecation never hurts. Jokes relieve tension,
save feelings, shape the music, and have often saved the rehearsal.’’16 To the
contrary, Kato Sensei’s rehearsal style was quite serious, with few examples of
humor from the podium observed during the fieldwork, although she used
humor quite skillfully outside the rehearsal context. It is well documented that
in many Japanese instructional settings, the teacher and students maintain an
atmosphere of intense formality.17 Nevertheless, some of the uniquely Japanese
techniques (described later in this chapter) were clearly funny and enjoyable for
the students.
Kato Sensei’s instruction made use of relatively few metaphors, yet it also
entailed few specific technical explanations. Mostly, through her conducting
of the ensemble, musical problems were identified, and rather than specific
suggestions for how to solve technical problems associated with particular
instruments, students were merely told to repeat, again and again (often with
modeling provided by the teacher or section leaders), until they could play it
correctly. This characteristic was similar to what is commonly seen in both
athletic coaching and traditional Japanese hogaku music pedagogy,18 yet
aspects may also resemble many Western approaches to instrumental learning.19
Overall, Kato Sensei provided much negative feedback, and little positive
feedback, and the negative feedback was specific in terms of musical concerns,
but not in terms of instrumental technique.
Physical gestures – including posture, eye-contact, and facial expression –
among the band members clearly indicated that they were attentive, respectful,
cooperative, and fully committed to following the instructions of Kato Sensei
and the section leaders.20 However, eye contact was often inconsistent in Kato
Sensei’s instruction. In the case of errors in specific parts or disciplinary issues,
she would provide outstanding eye contact, staring directly at the relevant
students. Yet, there were also many occasions when she mostly focused on the
musical score as she conducted, glimpsing only occasionally at students as they
played their instruments. As a result, Kato Sensei was quite successful at
managing the ensemble, and at dealing with specific musical corrections, but
was less helpful with specific technical problems on their instruments that
would have been visually discernible (e.g. inefficient embouchure, breath sup-
port, fingerings, etc.). Additionally, variations in Kato Sensei’s general level of
teaching intensity were observed, as on some days she was clearly more ener-
getic than others. During the final rehearsals prior to key performances, indi-
cators of a higher level of teaching intensity increased dramatically, with
prolonged eye-contact, more frequent and emphatic verbalizations, and faster
instructional pacing.
5.4 Zettai Dame!: Negative Feedback
‘‘Zettai dame!’’ (Completely wrong!) was a commonly used phrase that exem-
plifies Kato Sensei’s use of negative feedback. Negative feedback played a key
role in her instructional style. In some of the videotaped rehearsals, very few, if
any, instances of positive feedback may be identified. Rather than saying
‘‘Yokatta’’ (Great) or ‘‘Yoku natta’’ (That’s better), Kato Sensei would simply
continue conducting, providing no feedback when problems had apparently
5.4 Zettai Dame!: Negative Feedback 117
improved sufficiently to merit moving on to other concerns. Recent research

findings have demonstrated that many expert American instrumental music
teachers similarly make little use of positive feedback, although earlier studies
have suggested it may be most effective to aim for a balance of negative and
positive feedback.21
Often Kato Sensei’s negative feedback seemed rather severe. For example,
on January 13, she ended the rehearsal with the words, ‘‘If you don’t tune well,
this is all a waste of time! That’s all for today’’. One month later, on February
13, she made the following comments: ‘‘That sounds bizarre! What are you
thinking with that kind of noise?,’’ (from videotape data: Okashii. Naniwo
kangaete iruno? Urusai, Zettai muri, zettai dame, etc.). Later she announced,
‘‘Freshmen, you are going to be second-year students soon. What are you
thinking with that kind of noise – you should be trying harder!,’’ and still
later, ‘‘It seems like there are only two people in the entire band who listen to
me – the Bucho [club leader] and Fukubucho [vice-club leader] – so I have to say
the same things again and again!’’. Despite such statements, it is clear that Kato
Sensei cares deeply about her students’ education, yet she considers direct,
candid and concise statements to be necessary in the role of conductor. The
following example of negative feedback in her instruction is excerpted from
field notes during the final few weeks before the year-end concert:
The room is perfectly silent as each student stares with blank, emotionless faces at Kato
Sensei, listening to her speech. Glancing at various students throughout the room, her
face appears struggling to conceal anger.
‘‘You all must try harder. You only have one chance to perform for the graduation,
and you must use this chance to express your appreciation of your Sempai who will
soon leave forever. You must sacrifice to do your very best for this concert, and nothing
else will suffice! Otherwise, what can you expect when it is your turn to graduate? Your
Sempai will be listening not just to the band as a whole, but to your particular part.
They will be listening to your instrument and hearing everything: ‘Ooh, that was
missed,’ ‘Weird,’ ‘Oh, another mistake,’ ‘That makes me mad!!’. Do you understand
me?? This is heavy, you see. Just like at the competition, you all must sacrifice to do
your very best at the graduation concert. If you make a mistake, nothing can be done
about it, but your Sempai will certainly know, I assure you. It is okay if the pitch is not
completely perfect, but you must do a performance that makes it clear to your Sempai
that you tried your best. The reason is, your Sempai performed with all of you, so they
know whether or not you have really devoted your greatest efforts’’
[At this point, a climax in Kato Sensei’s voice implies conclusion.]
‘‘Hai!’’, a chorus of unison voices replying ‘‘Yes!’’ is called out across the entire
room.
Yet she continues: ‘‘Now, everything you do seems to be only half-way. How can
anyone be satisfied at the graduation with such a performance? You must fill this music
with your heart and soul. Even today, you must show your best performance. In that
way, you must remember the music. Otherwise, you are being disrespectful to your
Sempai. Percussionists, you must stay on the beat!’’
[The percussion students grimace in response to Kato Sensei’s criticisms at this
point, but say nothing.]
Kato Sensei continues, ‘‘Especially on the drumset! The tuba players are not with us
because they are confused by your sound. You are taking too much liberty with this
music. You are being selfish by not fulfilling the responsibility of playing in time with me!’’
[Here the two rival drummers glare at each other.]

Kato Sensei explains further, ‘‘You must use this moment for deep self-reflection
[hansei]. If you become too anxious, no one is able to play together.’’ She pauses for a
moment, and then declares, ‘‘All of you have failed on this piece, so let’s just move on to
‘Kimigayo’.’’
At this point, the band played through Kimigayo, the national anthem of
Japan, but after only one run through the piece, Kato Sensei stopped the band
and referred to their performance as ‘‘Zettai muri!’’ (completely hopeless) and
‘‘Zettai dame!’’ (completely wrong). Interestingly, this critical approach seemed to
be Kato Sensei’s ‘‘on the podium’’ persona, as throughout the fieldwork experi-
ence she made mostly positive statements outside the role of ‘‘conductor.’’ In fact,
when speaking with students individually she was compassionate and genuinely
interested in their needs. Students described Kato Sensei as a ‘‘kind teacher’’, yet
several also explained that she was ‘‘scary’’ in rehearsals. This irony may at first
seem confusing, but considered within the larger context of Japanese culture and
education, it has its own sense-making to it. In one context, Kato Sensei would
take on the role of compassionate mentor and counselor, while in the other she
was expected to be a decisive, Toscaninian commander. Very similar approaches
were frequently observed in visits to rehearsals of other Japanese school bands,
particularly prior to important performances.
5.5 Use of Models
Recorded models were used extensively within the Ishikawa Middle School
band. Kato Sensei explained that ‘‘supplemental to viewing the sheet music, it is
useful for them to hear a performance by a strong player on their instrument. . . .
I make selections and design a CD for them to borrow. . . . I use recordings of
successful band performances from the national competition, or of the Tokyo
Kosei Wind Orchestra. And then, when no commercial CD is available I
borrow recordings of other middle school bands. In the case of Swan Lake,
since it is a band arrangement of an orchestral piece, we listened to the orches-
tral version as well.’’ Such CDs were distributed to section leaders, who listened
to the recordings both at home and along with their fellow students during the
sectional rehearsals. During such small group listening sessions, band members
were observed simultaneously listening, reading the notation, and fingering
through their individual parts. Later, they would stop to comment on the
interpretation in the recording and compare it with what they saw on the page
as well as with problems currently confronted in their own performance of the
music. Section leaders also recorded their own sections playing through various
parts of the music, and then critically listened to the recordings, making
comments together as a small group, with particular attention to blend, bal-
ance, intonation, articulation, phrasing, and other concerns. In such contexts,
students routinely compared their own performance with that of the
5.5 Use of Models 119
professionals modeled on the CD recording. It was impressive to see students of

this age so determined to analyze and attain a perfect imitation of the profes-
sional model.
To what extent are recorded models used within this system of musical
learning? Within the Ishikawa Middle School band, there is no curriculum
outside the band works performed: no sequential lessons, ensemble methods,
drills, or exercises, other than what has already been described, although
through the paatore students tend to acquire some exercises suited to their
particular instruments. Essentially, in this model, the repertoire is the curricu-
lum, much like hogaku pedagogy. As a result, many musical skills developed in
other models of music education are almost entirely absent: improvisation,
sight-reading, and composition. Knowledge of the context of pieces, including
music history and composers’ biographies, is also mostly absent from this
model, yet some of this information may be included in the compulsory aca-
demic music courses. In other words, rather than aiming for comprehensive
musical knowledge, the emphasis is on accurate group performance through
imitation of established models.
In the USA, research studies examining the effectiveness of the use of
recorded models in music learning have produced mixed results.22 Despite
inconclusive support for its efficacy, some American music educators regularly
make use of recorded models. However, the extent to which this strategy is
incorporated into sectional rehearsals of American school bands appears to be
less than what was observed within the Japanese band. Regarding imitation of
models, another relevant observation is worth mentioning at this point. As
discussed earlier, the band room is located on the second floor of the school
building, at the ‘‘bottom’’ of the U shape. Windows allow one to view the inner
courtyard from the hallway. In front of some of these windows, and directly
across from the door to the band rehearsal room are a number of display cases
for student artwork. It is common in Western nations to display student art
projects, so one might think this is hardly worth mentioning. Yet, each time I
walked by the display case I was reminded of cultural differences. The art
projects in the display case were always identical: picture frames, pen holders,
and CD racks assembled from wood, identically rendered by several different
students. There were always about five of each item featured, and absolutely the
only difference between them was a label that mentioned the name of the
student and the homeroom he or she was affiliated with. I often thought
about this art display case and compared it with what I was seeing in the
band room. In a way, this art display case seemed to embody some fundamental
principles in terms of an approach to artistic expression associated with the
Japanese educational system. Rather than rewarding originality, there seems to
be great emphasis on perfect imitation of established forms. It seems that
beauty is to be found in the process of perfect imitation. I had never seen a
display of such identical projects in schools of other nations.23 If anything, art
teachers in the USA tend to cherish those student creations that deviate most
from established models without completely losing a sense of form. Through
such use of recorded models, the Ishikawa Middle School band students were
able to clearly identify their objectives with each piece, and assess improvements
made within their own performance relative to the modeled ideal.
5.6 Uniquely Japanese Techniques
Kato Sensei used some special techniques in her instruction that are not
common to American wind bands. Three of these techniques seemed especially
useful, and are described in this section.24
Balloon blowing. Kato Sensei used a variety of techniques to enable band
members to more fully understand how to breathe deeply, the most common
being the balloon blowing exercise.25 In each music folder, students kept
balloons that would be used for this exercise as a supplemental part of the
warm-up routine about once a week. In balloon blowing, all students except for
the percussion section stand or sit in their chairs with good posture, holding
balloons up to their mouths. Kato Sensei motions to the percussion section to
begin a rhythmic pattern (moderato tempo: eighth notes on the snare, half notes
on the bass drum). Kato Sensei then plays a half note Bb on her keyboard.
Keeping with the percussion beat, she immediately cues the band to blow into
their balloons for two whole note values (a total of eight beats, or 16 snare drum
taps). Without losing a beat, she immediately proceeds to play a C half note on
her keyboard, and the process continues in this way, up and down the Bb major
scale. A total of ten beats is spent on each note – two beats of modeled sound,
and eight beats of blowing. During the blowing, students ‘‘audiate’’26 the
modeled pitch (imagine its sound), and try to keep a steady stream of air
blowing into the balloon. The students enjoyed glancing at each other’s efforts,
competing to see who could blow their balloon the largest within the eight beats
of blowing. Any student who blew her balloon to an exceptionally large size
would receive enthusiastic gestures (e.g. ‘‘thumbs up’’) from nearby students.
Occasionally a balloon would suddenly break loose and sputter across the
room, but the offending student would quickly scamper to grab it and hurry
back to her place with a rather embarrassed expression. Sometimes a balloon
would suddenly pop at some point during this process, and it was the respon-
sibility of the Bucho and Fukubucho to keep a supply of spare balloons on hand
and quickly replace any popped balloons. The students seemed to really enjoy
this exercise, and it appears to have been helpful. It was particularly evident in
the playing among the trombone and tuba sections that the middle school
students in this band fully understood the concept of breath support.
Futarigumi. Another unusual technique used about twice per week in rehear-
sals was called futarigumi, which means ‘‘leaning couple’’. Students ‘‘pair up’’
into couples in order to get into position for this exercise. One student kneels,
clasps her hands together, turns them outward, and extends and locks her arms,
horizontal to the floor. The second student, while holding her own instrument
in playing position, leans toward the first student so that her abdomen is
Notes 121
supported by the first student’s clasped hands. Then, the second student plays
through long tones on her instrument, as her abdomen is supported by the first
student. Kato Sensei explained, ‘‘It is mostly young girls, so they cannot breathe
deeply very well. They need to develop the ability to breathe strongly and
deeply, so this [exercise] requires them to expel a massive amount of air. Any-
way, the point is for them, through the person next to them, to feel the depth
and speed of their breath. Gradually they are able to know how to support more
and more air.’’ When asked where the futarigumi technique came from, Kato
Sensei explained, ‘‘There is a coach with the Katsushika Band [a professional
ensemble near Tokyo] who taught that this is the way they do it in that band.’’
Within this futarigumi position, students perform the same musical drill
described above in the category of ‘‘balloon blowing’’, playing the Bb major
scale in whole notes (rather than blowing into balloons).
Unison melody, at attention. Another technique used often by Kato Sensei
was to have students with unison melody parts stand and face each other while
playing through them. This seemed especially useful when the melody was
played by instrumental sections that were on opposite ends of the band, or
when the orchestration of a piece placed the unison line in a wide spread of
octaves. Kato Sensei had students do this both with and without the accom-
paniment parts during the rehearsals of several pieces. In such instances, she
encouraged the band members to focus on intonation and expressive phrasing
of the melody.
This chapter has discussed Japanese pedagogical traditions and demon-
strated one band director’s approach to rehearsals as well as some special
techniques commonly encountered in Japanese school bands. The next chapter
will describe the penultimate event of the school year for these bands, the
annual All-Japan Band Association national competition.
Notes
1. Morrison (2001) demonstrates this phenomenon in an American context.

2. Gerald Groemer deserves credit for first suggesting this comparison to me in a conversa-
tion many years ago in his office at Yamanashi University.
3. Examples include Campbell (1991), Trimillos (1983) and Trimillos (1989).
4. See Groemer (1997), p. 272.
5. See Trimillos (1989), p. 39.
6. See Trimillos (1989), p. 39.
7. See Gutzwiller (1974), p. 155.
8. Gagne (1985) provides one of the most comprehensive and influential theories of
instruction.
9. See Malm (1986), p. 24. Koji Matsunobu’s research has identified key characteristics of
Japanese spirituality of relevance to music learning, including ‘‘(a) an insignificance of
human existence in contrast with the natural environment; (b) a feeling of awe toward
nature; (c) a connectedness with ancestors; (d) a reference to individuals’ inner strength;
and (e) a sense of absolute power without reference to a particular religion’’ (Matsunobu,
2007, 1425).
10. See Malm (1959), p. 172.
11. See Halliwell (1994), p. 22.
12. These points are also mentioned later in Halliwell’s article (Halliwell, 1994, p. 49). I
incorporate the essential features of Halliwell’s points along with those of the preceding
authors to develop my list of 11 points on the next page of the book.
13. Such themes encompass rehearsal pacing, conducting gestures, rehearsal atmosphere,
characteristics of instructor feedback (negative/positive, verbal/non-verbal, etc.), char-
acteristics of modeling behaviors, use of eye-contact, and sequential patterns of instruc-
tion. For detailed discussion of previous research in these areas, see Duke (1999/2000) as
well as chapters in the New Handbook of Research on Music Teaching and Learning
(Colwell & Richardson, 2002) and Science and Psychology of Music Performance (Parn-
cutt & McPherson, 2002).
14. See Price (1992) for a description of sequential patterns of instruction. Steven Morrison
deserves credit for helping greatly to clarify my understanding of this model.
15. This description is taken from a standard American reference work (Humphreys, May, &
Nelson, 1992, p. 662).
16. See Barber (2003), p. 26.
17. Rohlen and LeTendre (1998) discuss this issue in greater detail.
18. See Trimillos (1989).
19. See Howard (1991) for an extensive philosophical treatment of this issue.
20. Common gestures have been analysed in previous research (Neill, 1991).
21. Robert Duke has produced a number of important studies related to this issue and recent
findings have enabled him to further refine his position (Duke & Henninger, 2002).
22. Morrison (2002) has provided an especially useful overview of this topic. He explored the
subject further in a co-authored study, which produced mixed results (Morrison, Mon-
temayor, & Wiltshire, 2004). Further research is needed in this area.
23. Howard Gardner (1991) discussed similar issues in his insightful book on learning in
China.
24. Some of these descriptions have been included in a previous publication along with other
specific suggestions regarding what foreign conductors can learn from music teaching and
learning in Japanese school bands (Hebert, 2008).
25. According to Steven Morrison, upon reading of this exercise in my dissertation it was
tried with great success in Seattle Public Schools.
26. I find this to be a useful term (attributed to Edwin Gordon) for describing the process of
imagining a pitch in one’s mind.
References
Barber, C. F. (2003). Conductors in rehearsal. In J. A. Bowen (Ed.), The Cambridge compa-

nion to conducting (pp. 17–27). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Campbell, P. S. (1991). Lessons from the world: A cross-cultural guide to music teaching and
learning. New York: Schirmer Books.
Colwell, R., & Richardson, C. (Eds.). (2002). New handbook of research on music teaching and
learning. New York: Oxford University Press.
Duke, R. A. (1999/2000). Measures of instructional effectiveness in music research. Bulletin of
Duke, R. A., & Henninger, J. C. (2002). Teachers’ verbal corrections and observers’ percep-
tions of teaching and learning. Journal of Research in Music Education, 50(1), 75–87.
Gagne, R. M. (1985). The conditions of learning and theory of instruction. Fort Worth: Holt,
Rinehart and Winston.
References 123
Gardner, H. E. (1991). To open minds. New York: Basic Books.

Groemer, G. (1997). Translator’s introduction. In M. Nishiyama (Ed.), Edo culture: Daily life
and diversions in urban Japan, 1600–1868. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press.
Gutzwiller, A. (1974). Shakuhachi: Aspects of history, practice, and teaching. Doctoral dis-
sertation, Wesleyan University (AAT 7423023).
Halliwell, P. (1994). Learning the koto. Canadian University Music Review, 14, 18–48.
Hebert, D. G. (2008). Lessons from Japanese wind bands. National Band Association Journal,
49(2), 25–28.
Howard, V. A. (1991). And practice drives me mad; or, the drudgery of drill. Harvard
Educational Review, 61(1), 80–87.
Humphreys, J. T., May, W. V., & Nelson, D. J. (1992). Research on music ensembles. In R.
Colwell (Ed.), Handbook of research on music teaching and learning (pp. 651–668). New
York: Schirmer Books.
Malm, W. P. (1959). Japanese music and musical instruments. Rutland, VT: Charles E. Tuttle,
Co.
Malm, W. P. (1986). Six hidden views of Japanese music. Berkeley, CA: University of Cali-
fornia Press.
Matsunobu, K. (2007). Japanese spirituality and music practice: Art as self-cultivation. In L.
Bresler (Ed.), International handbook of research in arts education (pp. 1425–1438). New
York: Springer.
Morrison, S. J. (2001). The school ensemble: A culture of our own. Music Educators Journal,
88, 24–28.
Morrison, S. J. (2002). The use of recorded models in the instrumental rehearsal: Effects on
ensemble achievement. Update: Applications of Research in Music Education, 20(2), 21–26.
Morrison, S. J., Montemayor, M., & Wiltshire, E. S. (2004). The effect of a recorded model on
band students’ performance self-evaluations, achievement, and attitude. Journal of
Research in Music Education, 52(2), 116–129.
Neill, S. (1991). Classroom nonverbal communication. London: Routledge.
Parncutt, R., & McPherson, G. (Eds.). (2002). Science and psychology of music performance.
New York: Oxford University Press.
Price, H. E. (1992). Sequential patterns of music instruction and learning to use them. Journal
of Research in Music Education, 40(1), 14–29.
Rohlen, T., & LeTendre, G. (1998). Conclusion: Themes in the Japanese culture of learning.
In T. Rohlen & G. LeTendre (Eds.), Teaching and learning in Japan (pp. 369–376). Cam-
bridge: Cambridge University Press.
Trimillos, R. (1983). The formalized transmission of culture: Selectivity in traditional teach-
ing/learning systems in four high skill music traditions. East-West Culture Learning
Institute Report, 9(1/2), 1–9.
Trimillos, R. D. (1989). Halau, hochschule, maystro, and ryu: Cultural approaches to music
learning and teaching. International Journal of Music Education, 14, 32–43.
Chapter 6
Scenes from the 50th AJBA National Band
Competition
岡目八目
Oka me hachi moku
‘‘Onlookers see much of the game’’ – (much, but not all)
The All-Japan Band Association (AJBA) annual national competition serves as

the penultimate event in the world of Japanese bands, and is credited with
providing the primary motivation for outstanding musical achievement. Wes-
tern band directors’ descriptions of the ‘‘amazing’’ performances of Japanese
school bands tend to be based on observations at the final stage (national level)
of this enormous competition. This chapter provides the first detailed English-
language description of this important event.
6.1 Fumon Hall
Since the 1970s, the All-Japan Band Association competition has held its
Tokyo-based events in Fumon Hall, an enormous auditorium owned by the
Rissho Kosei-kai religious organization. The hall is located in Nakano (central
Tokyo) within the Rissho-Kosei-kai headquarters. Nearby are the religious
organization’s own hospital, school buildings, a mausoleum, and various
arcane temple structures. Fumon Hall is an unusual design, an off-white
(almost pinkish) polygon-shaped structure that towers above its surroundings.
Upon showing an event ticket to the guards, one is free to enter the hall. The
lobby interior colors consist of earthen tones, much like a traditional Japanese
temple: brownish and greenish shades, occasionally accented by gold ornamen-
tation. The hall is crowded, like the rest of Tokyo, and tobacco smoke fills the
air. Children in school uniforms wander by, as well as middle-aged adults who
appear to be friends and family of the performers, and occasionally an official-
looking person in a suit and AJBA nametag. Most of the middle-aged visitors
are dressed formally (men in suits, and women in dresses), which serves as an
indication of the prestige attributed to this event.
126 6 Scenes from the 50th AJBA National Band Competition
Climbing the stairs to the second floor of the performance hall, one finds
strong evidence of the religious associations of this building. A statue of
Kannon (Buddhist goddess of mercy) stands two meters tall, towering above
the stairwell. She offers a lotus blossom and a vague smile to her visitors.
Throughout the lobby are booths where visitors may purchase program guides,
videotapes and CD recordings of band performances, soft drinks and snacks.
At the final stage of this competition there are no women conductors, yet a
female guide becomes the omnipresent companion of all visitors, as a formal
young woman’s voice introduces each performing groups through an extensive
speaker system that is audible everywhere throughout the building – even the
restrooms – allowing audiences to keep track of what is occurring on stage at all
times.
During this final stage of the 50th AJBA national school band competition
there are also about twenty American band directors at Fumon Hall who came
together as part of a special tour to experience the legendary phenomenon of
Japanese school bands. Most of these directors are from the South and South-
west, and include the current and former presidents of the Texas Band Associa-
tion, the Arkansas Band Association, and band directors from universities in
Florida, Oregon, and various other states. These band directors huddle close to
each other and discuss the Japanese bands softly in English, seemingly awe-
struck by the scene. There is good reason to be excited, for they are attending
the final stage of what is probably the largest band competition in recorded
history, and the performances are truly astonishing.
Walking past a uniformed guard and through heavy sets of double doors,
one enters the inner sanctuary of this auditorium, which seats over 5,000 people.
The stage is remarkably large, and easily accommodates the 50-member bands.
Across the center of the stage is an enormous blue banner with white characters
that declare this to be the 50th AJBA competition. To the left of the stage is
hung a blue flag with a white trumpet motif and, in Japanese, ‘‘The All-Japan
Band Association’’. This trumpet symbol serves as the official logo of the
AJBA, and is printed on their pamphlets and concert programs. To the right
of the stage is a red banner that consists of one corner of the World War II-era
Japanese flag, above which is written the characters for ‘‘Asahi Shinbun’’
(Rising Sun Newspaper). Since the inception of this competition, Asahi Shinbun
has served as its sponsor.1
The roof and walls of the hall also convey Buddhist motifs. The arrange-
ments of lights in clusters on the roof suggest the shape of lotus root segments
alternating on a background of golden breast-like protrusions that are also
commonly found along the roof edges of Japanese Buddhist temples. On the
walls of each side of the stage is a layer of wavy glass segments that are screwed
onto the top of a metal lattice-work. Affixed to this backdrop are lights that
resemble green lotus blossoms. They project light backward (toward the wall),
which allows rays to be reflected on the wavy glass, producing an effect that
resembles lotus blossoms floating on water. Such images clearly bring a deep
symbolic meaning to this space through the use of Buddhist icons.
6.1 Fumon Hall 127
When Fumon Hall first opened its doors in 1970, Rissho Kosei-kai President
Nikkyo Niwano declared:
The construction of Fumon Hall embodies one of our activities of social service for the
people. By the completion of this Hall, we also aim at promoting cultural progress
which is important for society. . . the Hall will be often used by the members of Rissho
Kosei-kai in their missionary work. But as shown in the name of the Hall, ‘‘Fumon’’
(The Open Door), I hope that it will be widely open to the general public and will be
frequently utilized to a large extent when meaningful cultural meetings are held there.
We should appreciate it very much if we could contribute our share to society in such
useful gatherings for the uplifting of the people’s sentiments through concerts, plays,
lectures and other cultural functions.2
Indeed, the hall has contributed significantly to cultural life in Japan, and has
brought increased visibility to Niwano’s religious organization. Fumon Hall
has served as the primary performance and recording venue for the Tokyo
Kosei Wind Orchestra, Japan’s most influential wind band.3 The Tokyo Kosei
Wind Orchestra’s offices are also located on the Rissho Kosei-kai campus, just
a few blocks from the hall, and the religious organization also houses the
publishing office that produces CD recordings and prints music books and
other materials associated with the renowned wind band.
Some Japanese band directors make frequent reference to a ‘‘Fumonkan
sound’’, claiming that the aesthetic of Japanese bands has been influenced by
the acoustic qualities of this hall.4 Experienced performers familiar with the
Fumon Hall stage recognize that the bright sounds of percussion and brass
parts from the back row of a wind ensemble with standard instrumentation tend
to project directly toward the stage microphones and balcony (where the con-
test adjudicators are seated). Some bands adjust their balance to accommodate
for such acoustic factors, while others produce an excessively bright ‘‘Fumon-
kan sound’’. Those that make the necessary adjustments often conclude with a
balance that is excessively dark in most other acoustic environments. Even the
tone quality of student instrumentalists who have modeled their own sounds
after Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra recordings made in the Fumon Hall may
have been affected by the ‘‘Fumonkan sound’’.
It is a remarkable privilege to perform on the stage of Fumon Hall at the
final (national) stage of the 50th AJBA competition. The 29 middle school
bands participating in the final event represent the top 1.39% of middle school
bands in all of Japan. As of May 1, 2000, there were 11,209 middle schools in
Japan, serving a total of 4,104,000 students.5 Most of these schools support a
band, and nearly all of these 6,719 Japanese middle school bands participate
in the All-Japan Band Association (AJBA) competition system. The competi-
tion also includes other divisions: high school, university, company, and
community bands, for a grand total of 13,595 ensembles, or approximately
500,000 contestants!6 According to AJBA figures, by 2007, the number of
registered wind bands in Japan had exceeded 14,000, and with an average
band size of at least 50 members, the total exceeds 700,000 contestants in a
single year (Fig. 6.1).
Junior Total
Regional Grade High
High College/University Company Community by
Division School School
School Region
Hokkaido 117 373 226 24 7 115 862
Tohoku 256 742 397 34 12 194 1,635
E.Kanto 221 1,026 525 29 12 227 2,040
W.Kanto 45 775 336 27 5 149 1,337
Tokyo 34 583 274 29 14 113 1,047
Hokuriku 23 210 119 16 2 69 439
Tokai 96 846 502 27 13 188 1,672
Kansai 62 934 531 47 11 337 1,925
Chukoku 76 538 295 39 6 111 1,065
Shikoku 17 254 126 10 2 54 463
Kyushu 132 774 450 44 14 222 1,636
National
1,079 7,058 3,781 326 98 1,779 14,121
Totals
Fig. 6.1 Number of wind bands in Japan by category, 2007
6.2 AJBA Rules
At the AJBA national band competition, participants and guests may obtain
detailed information concerning the AJBA from free pamphlets and brochures.
From these materials, one learns of the AJBA band membership requirements
(Fig. 6.2) and responsibilities (Fig. 6.3), as well as the guidelines for contest
adjudicators (Fig. 6.4), each of which has been translated for this research.
Compared with the policies of similar organizations, the most interesting
feature of the membership requirements seems to be that professionals and
bands associated with music schools are not permitted to participate (Fig. 6.2).
The member responsibilities are standard for such organizations (Fig. 6.3),
but an unusual feature of the contest adjudication procedures is the institutio-
nalized negotiation between a panel of judges and the Board of Directors,
arranged through the role of Chairman (Fig. 6.4).
1) All members must be participants in a wind band.

2) The band must be rehearsing and performing throughout the year.
3) Conservatory students are permitted to participate as members of bands in the
“Community Band” division.
4) Generally, one may participate in more than one band, but the rules of
particular contests may overrule in some cases.
5) Members cannot be paid for performances and still qualify for amateur status.
6) Music school-affiliated students may not participate in any school band
divisions.
Fig. 6.2 AJBA membership requirements

6.2 AJBA Rules 129
1) Pay required fees for all new members upon admittance.

2) Pay ensemble fees by May deadline.
3) Inform AJBA 1 month in advance of change in mailing address or
membership status.
4) Participate in AJBA meetings.
Fig. 6.3 Responsibilities of AJBA member bands
No. 1) Judgment and implementation based upon these by-laws is stipulated by

article number 19 of the All Japan Band Competitions’ operational guidelines.
No. 2) Adjudicators will evaluate the required and chosen pieces separately,
awarding one of five possible grades in both categories of technique and expression.
No. 3) Treatment of the results: The Chairman of the Board of Directors will be
entrusted with requesting scores of the adjudication committee for delivery to the Board.
No. 4) Based upon the evaluation of the adjudication committee, the Board will
divide scores into three groups using the rankings of gold, silver, and bronze. In exceptional
cases, an approximate ratio of 30% (gold), 40% (silver), and 30% (bronze) will be
considered.
No. 5) Following the above procedure, the Chairman will obtain approval from the
adjudication committee and make the final decision.
No. 6) A list of the final adjudication scores of participating ensembles will be
announced in the organization’s bulletin.
No. 7) These by-laws may be amended according to committee judgment.
Fig. 6.4 Adjudication by-laws for the AJBA band competition
The names of AJBA competition judges are printed on the contest programs,
and consist of the leading instrumentalists of Japan’s band world, including
section leaders and conductors from professional symphony orchestras, mili-
tary bands, and most prominently, the Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra.
The first stage of the competition occurs at the local (or municipal) level, and
only bands that receive a gold prize at this initial stage are able to proceed to the
regional level of competition. Likewise, only bands that receive top scores at the
regional level qualify for the national competition. A total of 345 middle school
bands participated in the Tokyo metropolitan middle school band competition
on July 30 and 31. At this level, bands were classified by size: Class A with up to
50 members, B with up to 40, and C with up to 30 members. Bands with more
than 50 players are required to thin their ranks for performance at the
competition.
The adjudication sheet for this stage of the AJBA competition was rather
simple, consisting of a single small sheet of paper, 8.5 by 5.5 inches in size.
Judges fill out nine spaces on the form (Fig. 6.5).
To begin, adjudicators write the band classification according to the size of
its membership. Next, they write the ensemble identification number, presum-
ably arranged by order of performance. Adjudicators circle an overall score for
each of the two pieces performed (required piece and free piece), ranging in six
Band Class (kumi): A B C

Ensemble ID number:
Required piece overall score: A B C D E F
Free piece overall score: A B C D E F
Technique (gijutsu): Expression (hyogen):
Advice (kanso):
Adjudicator name:
Ensemble name:
Fig. 6.5 AJBA contest adjudicator form
grades, from A to F. There are small spaces to write a few words regarding
technique and expression, and another slightly larger space in which to share
any general words of advice. The final spaces are reserved for the adjudicator’s
name and the name of the ensemble.
6.3 Local Understandings of the AJBA Competition
There appears to be only one Japanese language book on the annual All-Japan
Band Association national contest, which was only recently published in two
volumes in 2007 and 2008.7 This would appear to suggest that many Japanese
musicians have not (until very recently) recognized the global significance of the
sheer size and quality of performances associated with this unique contest.
Indeed, interviews and discussions with influential Japanese band directors
enabled confirmation of the numbers of bands and contestants, yet there
appeared to be no recognition in Japan that this is surely among the largest
music contests in the world, and at times even denial that such a feat could be
possible with Japanese bands. Interestingly, according to the aforementioned
book, the number of contestants is believed to be ‘‘between 700,000 and
1,120,000,’’ and the authors also acknowledge, ‘‘We can be certain that more
than 1 million are currently playing in wind bands, and that the number of
former wind band participants is enormous in Japan.’’ The book is called Ichi
On Nyu Kon! Zen Nihon Suisougaku Konkuru Meikyoku Meien 50, and its title
may be translated as ‘‘Put spirit into one sound – All-Japan Band Association
competition: renowned pieces, renowned performances’’. This title offers a
humorous twist on a well-known phrase mentioned earlier that is popular
among Zen shakuhachi players, ichi on jobutsu – meaning ‘‘enlightenment
from a single tone’’. Its authors offer some helpful context for these enormous
numbers by suggesting that, ‘‘For comparison, we should note that there are
currently only around 170,000 boys participating in school baseball clubs,’’ and
References 131
they assert that the AJBA contest has become the ‘‘mecca’’ of wind bands, with
‘‘20,000 observers at the Fumon Hall national level event.’’8
Now that the background of this competition has been described, it is time to
examine the lived experience of actual band participants, as they earnestly
prepare their performance for the enormous public spectacle of this event and
the stringent ears of its adjudicators. The perceptions of band members parti-
cipating in the AJBA competition will be the theme of Chapter 7.
Notes
1. Recall the historical discussion of the AJBA national band competition’s early develop-
ment from Chapter 2.
2. This description of Nikkyo Niwano’s speech was written in English on a pamphlet from the
hall’s grand opening concert: ‘‘Fumon Hall: The Open Door’’ (unpublished document, c.
1970, obtained from Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra archives).
3. See Hebert (2001), pp. 212–226.
4. This data is from discussions with various Japanese wind band directors. See Hebert
(2005), pp. 122–128.
5. See Foreign Press Center/Japan (2001), p. 13.
6. Statistics taken from various All Japan Band Association documents and confirmed
through an interview with the organization’s Director on April 15, 2003. Since the average
Japanese wind band has around 50 members, the total national figure in 2010 appears to be
well over 500,000 contestants on any given year, perhaps around 700,000.
7. See Togashi, Ishimoto, and Bandou (2007, 2008).
8. See Togashi et al. (2007), p. 8.
References
Foreign Press Center/Japan. (2001). Education in Japan (About Japan Series). Tokyo: Foreign
Press Center/Japan.
Hebert, D. G. (2001). The Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra: A case study of intercultural music
Konkuru meikyoku meien 50, Part 2 [Heart and soul in a single tone!: 50th anniversary of
the all Japan wind band contest, Part 2]. Tokyo: Kawade Shobo Shinsha.
Chapter 7
Winning in Band: Views from Beneath and Within
勝てば官軍
Kateba kangun
‘‘Losers are always in the wrong’’
7.1 Going for Gold
It is now mid-July, and the Ishikawa Middle School band is engaged in intense
preparation for the first (local) stage of the AJBA competition. Conveniently,
there is a period of school vacation in the weeks prior to the event, yet the band
schedule is more time-consuming than at any other point during the year. In fact,
during the 2 weeks leading up to the competition, the band rehearses from 9 A.M.
to 6 P.M. on most days, and the total rehearsal time during this period exceeds
72 h! The band rehearses – and rehearses – two compositions: ‘‘ ‘Rapsodia’ for
Band’’ by Tadashi Adachi (a required piece), and an arrangement of themes from
Tchaikovsky’s ‘‘Swan Lake’’ (their showcase piece).1 By this point in time, the
precise way of playing every note of these two pieces has been fully committed to
memory by each young band member. They describe it as ‘‘yubi de oboeta’’
(remembered by the fingers), meaning the ability to play precisely without con-
scious effort. Kato Sensei conducts the ensemble with a fierce intensity. The band
members focus intently on her gestures, swaying in time with their peers, attuned
to the sounds enveloping the ensemble, only occasionally glancing down at the
printed page. Yet, the purpose of these darting glances is no longer to read
notations from the original sheet music, but to view the collage of multi-colored
jottings they have scrawled across their pages through over 6 months of devoted
study, reflections that describe the feelings of each moment in time within the
musical performance. The band and Kato Sensei seem connected within this
intense space of passing seconds, firing synapses, and the reverberations of
precise physical movements. As the students describe it, the music has become
theirs. Indeed, the sound is impressive and seems to express an aesthetic maturity
that is uncanny, considering its context: a public middle school in urban Japan.
Students have written ‘‘gold’’ everywhere in the band room: on the chalk
boards, on papers taped to the wall, on music folders, and in enormous
134 7 Winning in Band: Views from Beneath and Within
Fig. 7.1 ‘‘Gold’’ written in

1) GOLD!
the band room
2)
3)
lettering – with metallic gold markers and the fluorescent ink of highlighter
pens – across the entire length of students’ individual music parts. ‘‘Gold’’ is
written in myriad ways, sometimes using two or more languages. In English, it
is written with large capital letters, underlined and punctuated with one or
more exclamation points. In modern Japanese, ‘‘gorudo’’ is written with
phonetic katakana characters. And finally, the traditional term for ‘‘gold
medal’’ is transcribed in kanji pictographs, the ancient writing system origin-
ally imported from China (Fig. 7.1).
When asked to clarify the significance of gold, Ishikawa Middle School band
members explained it as the prized award they were determined to receive at the
contest. Clearly, a tangible goal had been set by the group, and it was under-
stood that attainment of ‘‘gold’’ would make all of their effort worthwhile.
7.2 Silver Equals Failure
The AJBA competition is an intense event, as most student bands have devoted
hundreds of hours of effort toward a single important performance that barely
spans 10 min. While there is certainly much excitement surrounding these
performances, by far the most intense moment is the awards announcement
that concludes the competition.
The curtain is pulled, and a few student representatives – usually three from
each band – stand bravely at attention facing the audience in neat rows to receive
their verdict. Since they are placed in rows, student representatives from the same
band are unable to see each other’s expressions. Often at least one of these
representatives is a male student, even if he is among very few boys in the entire
ensemble. Several men in suits, band association leaders, also stand on the stage:
one next to a microphone and the other next to a table upon which several
plaques are placed. The name of each school is called and a student representative
steps forward to receive a plaque. Murmuring is heard through the audience, as
spectators strain to obtain a clear view of the announcer and students on stage in
these intense final seconds. The band association leader nearest to the table
carefully hands the plaque to each student with a deliberate gesture and bow. It
is clear from the weighty gesture that the plaque is to be perceived as an object of
great value. The student grips it formally, with both hands, and bows earnestly in
response. At this point the other band association leader announces the verdict
into the microphone: ‘‘Gin shou’’ (silver), or ‘‘Do shou’’ (bronze). Occasionally,
the speaker seems to pause in dramatic silence after naming the band, and then
announces in an especially loud voice, ‘‘Gorudo!’’ (Gold!).
7.2 Silver Equals Failure 135
In the split second following each announcement, both ecstatic cheers and
agonizing moans can be heard from various corners of the hall. Regardless of the
results, the student representatives on the stage bravely accept their plaques with
identical gestures and return to their previous positions on stage in a dignified
manner. There they stand again at attention, facing the audience, holding the
plaque firmly in both hands. The expressions of these student representatives are
stoic, determined to avoid conveying any disappointment. Yet, in many cases,
tears begin to stream down. As more tears fall, those holding the precious plaques
try to subtly wipe them off with a brisk forearm gesture, but still the tears keep
streaming. Upon leaving the hall, cheers can still be heard from the winning
ensembles, but many students continue to sob bitterly in their disappointment.
The Ishikawa Middle School band gave an outstanding performance at the
first (local) stage of the competition in Fumon Hall. A resounding applause had
followed their final note, and students and audience members seemed pleased
with the performance. However, like the majority of the 345 participating
middle school bands, when the final verdict was given, their achievement did
not attain the highest possible score from the adjudicators. On the day after the
competition, I visited Ishikawa Middle School and asked band members what
they thought of the experience. Several merely replied ‘‘Silver,’’ in a morose
tone. When I mentioned having seen a few students cry, they confirmed that
‘‘We all cried.’’ I asked the middle school band members to explain the source of
their belief that a silver award signifies failure. One young clarinetist most
clearly stated, ‘‘From the Sempai. But, from ourselves too – to have practiced
so terribly hard and then not get it. It is very sad.’’
During the week immediately following the competition (August 1 to 7), the
Ishikawa Middle School band met for only two rehearsals, and during this
period a sense of disappointment hung heavy in the band room. The jokes and
smiles that had seemed to be permanent fixtures of the band room had mostly
disappeared. The intense energy and focus that developed during the final
weeks of preparation for the competition had disintegrated into an all-time
low. Particularly within paatore (sectional rehearsals), students spent less time
playing through their music, and more time in quiet discussion.
As the year passed, I continued asking students to describe what they like
and dislike about the band competitions. One explained, ‘‘Last year at the
national competition I was so happy to get gold, but this year we got silver,
so I was very sad.’’ Another replied, ‘‘What I like is kyoryoku [cooperating] with
everyone to do something impressive together. The thing I really hate is when
the results [from the judges] are not what we wanted.’’ Another explained that
she liked ‘‘To decide on a single goal and practice hard, become good at a
difficult piece, and then perform well. It is really awesome fun. We can make
many kinds of great memories, and have a good time too. But the thing I hate is
like this year when we got a lower prize. I really hate that.’’ According to one
student, ‘‘Other schools got a gold prize with not-so-good performances, and
that was mortifying [kuyashi] – we all talked about it.’’ And another explained
that ‘‘This year everyone really improved to a high level, so we certainly were
determined that we must get a gold prize. We had to go the national level, so the
silver prize was, ‘aack!’ ’’ [She made a frustrated sound].
According to one of the students, the competition experience as a whole was
excellent, but the difficult part was how strict their director became in the series of
intense rehearsals leading up to the competition. She explained that ‘‘When you
prepare the stage it is dark and you can hear murmuring voices of many people.
Then suddenly, the curtain opens and – oh! There are so many people there!’’ And
in the middle of all of that, I am full of this happy feeling while performing. And in
the middle of that, all the time spent practicing becomes clear as you try to do your
number one performance, your very best. In each of the various schools everyone
has tried their best to become number one. I like that. [She pauses for a while and
then her voice gets softer] But, what I don’t like is that when we are in the middle of
rehearsing for the competition Sensei is SCARY! [Here we both chuckled, as her
voice sounded so melodramatic]. She insisted, ‘‘Really, it is scary.’’ Clearly, some
students sensed extra pressure from Kato Sensei to rehearse earnestly in prepara-
tion for the competition. Indeed, higher levels of teaching intensity prior to major
performances were also acknowledged in fieldnotes and videotaped observations.
7.3 A Pastiche of Remembrance
In December of 2002, just as students were departing from school to visit their
extended family for the New Year vacation, Japan’s popular Band Journal
released a special issue to re-cap the results from the AJBA competition that
year. Many photographs from the final stage of the 50th AJBA competition were
included. The collection of images contained formed a pastiche that sheds light
on this fascinating microcosm. Included are photos of the inside and outside of
Fumon Hall, an image of the rows of representatives from each band anxiously
awaiting the awards announcement, the nervous faces of directors awaiting their
results and of band members fervently praying, numerous images of ecstatic
school children from the winning schools, and even of a successful director
being ceremoniously tossed into the air by several of his peers. There are also
small photos of each of the bands. Each student who participated is able to find
his or her own ant-sized image (e.g. behind the second-chair, third clarinet player
and stage-left of the marimba) in the pages of Japan’s leading magazine for
bands. The All-Japan Band Association competition embodies an organized
system of competition within the world of Japanese bands, yet other forms of
competition also pervade the atmosphere of these ensembles.
7.4 The Rival Drummers
In addition to the obvious spectacle of the AJBA national band competition, the
theme of competition also appeared more subtly in the form of rivalry between
players of the same instrument (intra-sectional competition) in the Ishikawa
7.4 The Rival Drummers 137
Middle School band. Prior to starting the fieldwork observations I had identified
rivalry of student musicians as a topic of interest, and generated interview ques-
tions with which to explore this area. I had reasoned that examination of this topic
would be a useful way of developing an understanding of the nature of peer
relationships within the Japanese band. What I actually encountered was an
ongoing struggle within the ensemble, with participants on both sides willing to
share details of their conflict with me. The clearest example of rivalry in the
Japanese school band occurred between two members of the percussion section,
evident from both observations and interviews. During sectional rehearsals, Dana
and Kyoko competed not only to play their parts with the greatest accuracy, but to
see who could play the fastest and loudest. Unfriendly glances were often
exchanged during rehearsals, and a willingness to blame each other for any short-
comings in the performance of their section was quite evident. At issue between
Dana and Kyoko was the fact that both were determined to be ‘‘number one’’ in
the percussion section.
Both students were interviewed. When Dana, a second-year percussionist,
was asked whether there is any rivalry in her section, she replied, ‘‘Oh yes,
always.’’ She explained that this rivalry was most noticeable ‘‘When we choose
the instrument parts. I practice for many hours, so there is rivalry because of the
gap that makes between us.’’ As to what causes this rivalry, she replied, ‘‘It’s not
that I dislike that person, but I just really don’t want to lose to her.’’ Alfie Kohn
observed that ‘‘competition entails a kind of perverse interdependence: our fates
are linked in that I cannot succeed unless you fail.’’2 Dana had interpreted
musical achievement to be a contest in which there are winners and losers,
concluding that one must strive to be the very best. This view might seem
unnecessarily competitive, however, it is also commonly encountered in the
professional music scene, in the ‘‘real world’’ beyond the walls of Japanese
schools. In her study of popular musicians, Christine Yano observed that
‘‘Ranking and hierarchy in fact structure the entire music industry in Japan.’’3
Kyoko, the rival of Dana, was also a second-year percussionist. As dokyusei
(students of the same grade), these students were not automatically situated in a
joheikankei relationship. Neither had seniority, hence rivalry was fierce. When
asked if she had experienced any difficulties in band, Kyoko replied, ‘‘We have
to try to get along with people we don’t like, so that can be quite a challenge.’’
And when asked specifically about rivalry, and she explained, ‘‘I am a percus-
sionist, so especially because we must choose instruments, the rivalry can be so
much that we have to hold auditions.’’ For Kyoko as well, competition was a
significant issue not only at the official contests but within her own section. This
rivalry was observable in most percussion sectional rehearsals, where the two
students clearly competed in their drills. Each one took turns playing along with
a metronome through exercises that featured complex rhythms, rolls, paradid-
dles and other techniques. As each percussionist finished her turn, the other
would grab the metronome, turn it up a notch to a slightly faster tempo, make a
taunting face toward her rival, and then take another turn playing even faster
through the drill, from beginning to end. Such rivalries also appear to be
common in the school ensembles of other nations, but there is yet little research
regarding how this phenomenon develops and what may be done about it.
7.5 Saxes Against the Rest
In addition to intra-sectional rivalry among players of like instruments, inter-

sectional rivalry (between instrumental sections) was also observed in the
ensemble. The saxophone section performed especially well, and prided itself
as an especially accomplished group within the ensemble, much like the ‘‘first
string’’ players on a sports team, or an elite ‘‘special forces’’ unit within a
military organization. Several students from other instrumental sections men-
tioned particular saxophone players as the strongest musicians and most enjoy-
able personalities within the entire ensemble. Students from other sections also
indicated saxophone most often as the instrument they would have chosen for
themselves, had they been given the opportunity to do so. Kato Sensei’s choice
of repertoire provided saxophone players some important opportunities to
perform exposed solo and soli passages. The band’s most expressive playing
consistently came from the saxophone section, and toward the end of the school
year, saxophonists formed a small chamber ensemble and won a ‘‘Gold’’ prize in
the Tokyo small ensemble competition. This event seemed to allow the entire
band to ‘‘save face’’ within the school’s community, and was lauded repeatedly
as an important honor during the final concert of the year.
During an interview with Tomoko, a second year saxophonist, she expressed
great pride in the abilities of both the current and incoming saxophone section
leaders. Tomoko also assured me that the saxophone section had given its very best
performance at the AJBA band competition, and that it was the full band as a
whole – not the saxophone section – that had received a silver rating from the
adjudicators. Tomoko confirmed, ‘‘Yes, we want saxes to play better than all the
other sections [in the band].’’ Although such inter-sectional competition was clearly
evident from the side of the saxophonists, it was less recognizable among the other
instrumental sections, possibly because the members of other sections saw little
chance of competing on par with the saxophonists in this regard. Still, the double
reed players (oboe and bassoon) explained themselves by emphasizing that their
instruments are the ‘‘most difficult’’, and the trombonists often mentioned that
they have the loudest and most ‘‘kakkoii’’ (cool-looking) instruments.
7.6 A Lingering Humiliation
It is to be expected that the inability to win first place in a competition will be

cause for some disappointment, yet among many Western school bands such
disappointment will soon fade into memory as the ensemble moves on to focus
on newer challenges. For many ensembles, a silver award would likely be
accepted with genuine appreciation as an indication of achievement. However,
7.7 Learning Through Competition 139
among the Ishikawa Middle School band members, gold was the only accep-
table outcome, and the ‘‘failure’’ (which is how the students referred to the silver
award) was not easily forgotten.
Months after the competition, when asked, ‘‘Are the band members consid-
ered good students within your school?’’ a first-year saxophonist replied, ‘‘Last
year at the national levels the band got gold, but this year we got silver, so that’s
how the club is viewed.’’ The question had merely sought information regarding
the academic standing of band members, yet the answer she volunteered con-
firmed that the stigma of having attained a silver award was a significant factor
in determining how the ensemble members were viewed by the rest of the school,
long after the competition.
Even at the final concert of the year, the band’s inability to receive a top score
at the AJBA competition (over 7 months earlier) was repeatedly mentioned
within speeches and further reinforced by written text within the concert pro-
gram. The following excerpts are from a translation of the program from the
Ishikawa Middle School band’s 22nd Annual Regular Concert. The first, from
page 1, is an introductory welcoming paragraph from Kato Sensei:
This year we were unable to obtain the same results at the national competition level as we
did in the previous year, however at [local concerts] our performance was very well
received. It is impressive how the band members developed, sharing a single spirit. Today’s
concert will be the final one for several graduating third year students who contributed
much power and attractiveness to the group. I think in these three years, through their
earnestness, they became the kind of people we hoped would become high school students.
In this paragraph, Kato Sensei acknowledged that the ensemble did not
receive the score it had hoped for within the competitions. She then moved on
to mention that despite this disappointment some positive things were achieved.
On page 2, the welcoming introduction by the Bucho is quite similar:
Today, in the middle of your busy schedules, thank you for having come to our annual
concert. This year, as always, we have devoted ourselves fully to the band rehearsals.
Unfortunately, we were unable to obtain as high of ratings as last year, however we were
satisfied with our accomplishments. We would like to sincerely thank the great variety of
people who have supported us in various ways: teachers, and others. Our goal continues to
be ‘We must strive to do better than last year’, and we will move forward with this objective,
in both partnership and enjoyment, within all aspects of our activities. – The Bucho
While both statements suggest that the band was successful overall this academic
year, the very fact that the competition scores are explicitly mentioned indicates that
these results are still viewed as relevant indicators of the band’s achievement.
7.7 Learning Through Competition
Kato Sensei was asked to consider the positive and negative aspects of the AJBA
band competition system. She felt that the competition was useful as a means by
which to motivate students for higher levels of achievement, but that it also
presented some problems. For example, she remarked that ‘‘the band must play
a ‘konkuruteki’ (competitionesque) piece.’’ She continued, ‘‘well, not certain other
kinds of genres,’’ inferring that there was a standard repertoire considered appro-
priate for the competitions. Kato Sensei explained, ‘‘And then among the judges
there is a ranking system, which I think may be misguided. From five judges, to
hope for gold or silver, well, I think this can be destructive for the students. The
sound of each year’s band changes with new members, and how do we obtain the
sound we desire? How are judges to know about the long-term learning process,
and how can we show them that when all they see is the brief stage performance?
For example, last year our brass section earned a gold medal. This year they did
not, but they are actually much finer this year. So this can be complicated. So,
when you think about that, it changes one’s sense of the importance of the
competition within the full academic year of band. If you cannot see it that way,
you will only want to obtain the result, a gold medal.’’ From this explanation it was
clear that, despite the aforementioned emphasis on winning gold among the band
members, the director recognized (at least in theory) that the competition was of
only limited usefulness to students in terms of educational objectives.
Kato Sensei also observed that ‘‘Within a full year of band activities, the
improvements made from intense preparation for the competition enable more
to be achieved.’’ From this statement, it was clear that she recognized the value of
the competition primarily in terms of its utility as a motivational tool that would
raise the band to a high level that could then be sustained throughout the year.
Most band members also seemed to view preparation for the competition posi-
tively, but indicated that it is difficult to balance the responsibilities of academic
work with long hours of band rehearsal. According to a first year saxophonist,
‘‘Before the competition when we are practicing so much, we practiced until very
late at night, and afterward I was too tired to study. I remember that was a really
terrible time.’’ When asked if it was ever difficult to balance her time between the
demands of band rehearsals and academic work, another student replied, ‘‘Yes,
whenever I have a test, or before the competitions, like when I was a first year
student I actually studied inside of the bullet train on the way to the band
competition.’’ Most band members responded similarly. Indeed, Japanese school
band rehearsal schedules are remarkably intense, and often particularly strenuous
in the weeks just prior to a major competition or concert. According to both
discussions and questionnaire results, it is not unusual for Japanese school bands
to rehearse over 20 h/week, and in excess of 600 h/year.
How is participation in this competition viewed by other band directors? As
part of my questionnaire to Tokyo middle school band directors,4 respondents
were requested to reply to the question, ‘‘What are some positive and negative
aspects of band competitions?’’ Most responded directly to the question by
writing both negative and positive features, although one respondent side-
stepped it with the reply that ‘‘I used to think the contest was all that mattered,
but now I think differently. Certainly, the musical development attained is
meaningful in various ways and that at least is good.’’ Among the positive
aspects listed, musical improvement was the most popular unifying theme.
Freely written responses in this category included the following: ‘‘Artistic
development,’’ ‘‘Development of musical art,’’ ‘‘Development of technique,’’
References 141
‘‘Musical quality improves,’’ ‘‘Level [of band performance] increases,’’ and

‘‘Nearing perfection of expression.’’
One band director suggested that the competition may motivate bands for
diverse approaches to music education. Namely, ‘‘Band clubs find an objective
that produces varieties of musical study.’’ Another respondent indicated that a
positive feature of the competition was that ‘‘One can easily understand the level
of bands throughout the nation.’’ Motivation and goal-setting were other major
themes. One indicated ‘‘Motivation to bring the band level up’’ as a positive
feature, and another wrote, ‘‘Obtaining and striving toward a single goal.’’ Still
another suggested that the contest provided motivation for teachers, writing
that ‘‘Many serious teachers try their best for the competition.’’ A final response
was that a ‘‘Boost in esprit de corps’’ was a positive feature of the competition.
In terms of negative aspects, most responses fit the category of excessively
competitive attitudes: ‘‘Increase of directors thinking that only the competition
is important,’’ ‘‘Feeling that only winning a medal is important,’’ ‘‘Attributing
supreme importance to the contest,’’ and ‘‘Competitive consciousness.’’ One
respondent implied that one effect of the competitions may be minimal cover-
age of repertoire, writing that ‘‘Some don’t perform anything besides the contest
pieces.’’ Another indicated that adjudication can be a problem, writing merely
that ‘‘Evaluation is difficult.’’ Another indicated a concern that ‘‘Many dwell on
whether one misses rhythms and pitches, rather than on musical expression
(they are more interested in finding errors than in viewing an interesting
performance).’’ And one particularly stringent respondent replied, ‘‘The grad-
ing, quantification, and sports-like guts in music.’’ The responses indicate that
even among bandleaders participating in the world’s largest music competition
there are ambivalent views regarding its ultimate effects.
Notes
1. The repertoire of Japanese school bands is described in detail in Chapter 9.

2. Alfie Kohn discusses this in his popular book No Contest: The Case Against Competition
(Kohn, 1992, p. 138).
3. See Yano (2002) p. 50.
4. A copy of this questionnaire may be found in the Appendix, and discussion of the results is
also included in my PhD dissertation (Hebert, 2005, pp. 481–488).
References

Kohn, A. (1992). No contest: The case against competition. New York: Mariner Books.
Yano, C. R. (2002). Tears of longing: Nostalgia and the nation in Japanese popular song.
Cambridge, MA: Harvard East Asia Monographs.
Chapter 8
Winning in Band: Views from Above and Beyond
雨降って地固まる
Ame futte ji katamaru
‘‘Earth that is rained upon hardens’’ – adversity builds character
8.1 A View from Above: Interview with the AJBA Director
The previous chapter provided the ‘‘view from below,’’ that of actual partici-
pants in the All-Japan Band Association national competition. It is now useful
to consider how the world’s largest music competition is viewed from above, as
seen by an executive of the All-Japan Band Association (who will be referred to
as its ‘‘Director’’). As part of this study, the AJBA Director was interviewed at
the organization’s offices in downtown Tokyo on April 15, 2003. The interview
provided new information regarding the association and illustrated the objec-
tives of its leadership. Key points have been extracted as part of this discussion.
The office building of the All-Japan Band Association is located in down-
town Tokyo, just two blocks away from the Yasukuni Shrine. This is a famous
location, as among Japanese nationalists and fundamentalist Shinto believers
(typically these groups are one and the same) the Yasukuni Shrine is among the
most sacred places in the world. Its symbolic importance is so powerful that
several Japanese politicians have made international headlines in recent years
by choosing to officially visit, or officially refrain from visiting, the shrine.1 It
struck me as interesting that the AJBA headquarters were located a stone’s
throw away from such a place. The offices consist of a large upper-level suite in
a brown office building, the interior of which is divided into various cubicles.
As a foreigner, I thought it would be best to begin the interview by describing
my background and the extent of my research thus far on the topic of Japanese
bands. The AJBA Director seemed relieved that I spoke Japanese and appeared
interested to know more about my band experience, educational background,
and experience in Japan. Upon reading from one of the pamphlets that AJBA
has various ‘‘International Activities,’’ my curiosity was piqued, so I asked him
to describe them. The Director mentioned that they used to have some
international projects, and still set up a booth at the Midwest Clinic (in
144 8 Winning in Band: Views from Above and Beyond
Chicago), but assured me that ‘‘Nowadays, we are not very active in the field of
international activities.’’
AJBA scope and mission. I sought to confirm the size and scope of the
organization, as well as its basic financial status. The Director confirmed that
there are around 500,000 participants in the competition. He noted that his
department has 5 staff members, and that schoolteachers volunteer their time to
the association as well. The annual budget, noted the Director, ‘‘is 300,000,000
yen.’’ At the time, this was nearly 3 million American dollars. He noted that the
sources of revenue were mostly from fees for participation in competitions,
membership dues, instrumental scores, recordings, and sheet music parts.
In seeking to gain a better sense of how the organization’s leaders interpret
the history of their own organization, particularly in terms of its objectives,
several questions were posed to the Director: ‘‘The founding purpose of the
AJBA and its current mission seem to be different. What is different? How has it
changed?’’ He paused, and replied, ‘‘Generally, I think it has not changed. The
reason why is that the goal is the popularization of wind bands, and that has not
changed. Certainly, originally the AJBA was founded during the WW-II era,
and at that time it was to make people energetic, well, for the purpose of war.’’
He continued, ‘‘It was for that reason, but after the war, for music, for music
education, for the popularization of wind bands, that became the purpose.
Although some things have changed, the purpose of development and promo-
tion of bands has not changed.’’
The Director was asked to describe the complex relationships between AJBA
and other organizations, particularly those with religious ties. The Director
explained that ‘‘the national competition is held in Fumon Hall. And, in order
to use that hall we have to ask the Rissho Kosei-kai for permission. Without
their approval we cannot use it. Therefore, that is the extent of our relationship.
But, then there is also that professional group . . .’’. He was referring to the
Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra, which is routinely commissioned to make the
authoritative premier CD recordings of the required contest repertoire for each
year. Members of this ensemble are also particularly well-represented among
the contest adjudicators.
When asked whether band performances were considered in the design of
Fumon Hall, the Director replied with a ‘‘No.’’ This seemed inconsistent with
the description attained from the Manager of the Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra,
who had explained how the ensemble had been patronized by the builders of
Fumon Hall for decades before it was constructed. The Director explained,
‘‘No, well, you see it was not constructed for concerts. It is for the purpose of
religious ceremonies.’’ He assured me that the reason for using Fumon Hall for
the competition is that it can hold 5,000 people and ‘‘there is a convenient truck
ramp where percussionists and others can unload their heavy instruments.’’
Uniqueness of the AJBA model. A distinguishing feature of the AJBA band
competition model from that of other nations is the absence of a sight-reading
component. Because the AJBA competition is intended for amateurs, with
training centered on ensemble technique rather than overall musicianship, the
8.1 A View from Above: Interview with the AJBA Director 145
development of sight-reading skills is not considered a priority. The Director

asserted that ‘‘the best goal is . . . to practice everyday’’ on the competition
repertoire, as this is the sole point and principal focus of the AJBA model.
In order to better understand both the future direction envisioned by AJBA,
and the source of any European or American models that may have a continu-
ing influence on the organization, the Director was asked whether other genres,
such as jazz and Latin music, might ever be included in the competition. He
replied that ‘‘We do not consider the broadening of the wind band genre to be a
good thing. Up to this point, and into the future, our goal is to promote wind
bands and maintain this tradition.’’ When asked whether any Western models
had influenced the organization of the AJBA competition, the AJBA Director
indicated Texas as the principal source. However, he also commented that wind
band ‘‘has become a Japanese thing. It has developed in a Japanese way, I think.
Therefore, now it is not really modeled after American bands as I started to say
earlier, but rather it has become a Japanese style, I think.’’ Following this
statement, the Director was asked to indicate some of the differences between
Japanese wind bands and bands in other countries. He explained, ‘‘Well, con-
cerning the level of bands, Japanese bands are extremely strong from the
elementary through middle school and high school levels, I think. But then
after that, as they become adults, the level is not so great.’’ The Director was
asked to explain what he considered to be the reason that school band perfor-
mance had so quickly reached such a high level in Japan. He replied, ‘‘I think
this has to do with the ethnic characteristics of the Japanese, of the Japanese
race. Are we not a race that is able to practice with desperation, to devote all of
one’s soul to repetition?’’ He continued, ‘‘And the meaning of that can be that
people forget how to enjoy music. Certainly, music is supposed to be an
enjoyable thing, isn’t it? But, even without enjoyment, people can still repeat
with desperation. And among the Japanese race, the performing level may rise
in this way, I think.’’ At this point the AJBA Director expressed his concern
regarding the role of bands in lifelong learning. Moving from a description of
the strenuous rehearsal practices associated with Japanese bands, he concluded
that ‘‘Therefore, now there are very few adults who continue with band.
Certainly that kind of rehearsal becomes objectionable as people get older.
They start to hate it, you see?’’ Generally, the AJBA Director was quite positive
regarding the state of bands in Japan, but he did identify some areas of concern
that he felt were not a direct result of the AJBA competition itself, but rather, of
misguided individuals who had placed more importance on the competition
than had ever been envisioned by its creators. While he claimed that ‘‘bands
have become a Japanese thing,’’ he indicated that the Texas band system had
served as a model for the AJBA competition.
The Texas model. Following discussion of highlights from the AJBA Direc-
tor interview, it is useful to briefly examine the Texas band competition, which
was mentioned by the AJBA Director as the most important Western model in
terms of influences on the AJBA competition. Since 1958, the Band Division of
the Texas Music Educators Association (TMEA) has implemented an Honor
Band Competition.2 Among the important similarities are its size and scope.
The Texas organization consists of over 3,000 band director members, which is
roughly comparable to specific school divisions within the Japanese organiza-
tion. While over 14,000 ensembles are associated with the Japanese organiza-
tion, that figure includes university, community, and company bands, and in
some cases more than one group may be directed by a single conductor. Because
of the relatively comparable size of Texas and Japan, both organizations
similarly implement their competitions in three stages. For Texas, this consists
of (1) Region, (2) Area, and (3) State levels. In the case of Japan, there are
(1) Local, (2) Regional, and (3) National level competitions.
The most striking differences between the two competitions are that the
Japanese contest consists of adjudication of live performances, while the Texas
competition entails adjudication of live recordings. This means that in the Japa-
nese model, judges must rely on their immediate impression of live performances,
while the sound adjudicated by Texas judges is mediated through technology, and
may even be repeatedly examined. Texas bands are required to file a list of the
performances to be recorded, from which their submission will be culled. A
maximum of five performances may qualify, of which three may be non-
competitive events. In the Japanese model, ensembles have only one chance to
perform well in order to qualify for promotion to the next level of competition.
Another important difference is that the Texas model classifies bands by
school size classification (e.g. 3A, 2B, etc.) rather than actual band size, as is
done in Japan. Also, the Texas competition allows groups from each category
to compete only once every 2 years.3 This institutionalized break from the
competition may help Texas school bands to avoid turning competitive con-
sciousness into an annual routine.
Another important difference between these models is that in the Texas
system efforts seem to have been made to help protect lower-scoring bands
from the public disappointment evident among competition ‘‘losers’’.4 The
Texas system evidently seeks to lessen public humiliation by allowing directors
the option of maintaining some privacy regarding the final scores of their
bands. In the Japanese competition however, the final scores are announced
in a formal ceremony, in front of all the participants. This practice certainly
adds to the overall drama of the event, and allows for the winners to be publicly
honored. While the AJBA Director acknowledged that the Texas competition
had influenced the AJBA model, it should be clear that the two competitions are
actually quite different in many ways.
8.1.1 Research on Competition in Music
It is useful at this point to briefly consider the research background in this area.
What is generally known about the role of competition in musical practices? In
1690, Wolfgang Caspar Printz, regarded as ‘‘the ‘first’ music historian,’’
credited ‘‘the ambition to outdo others’’ as one legitimate theory to explain the
origins of music.5 However, most music-lovers prefer to believe that music
developed out of a number of more worthy impulses. It is significant that
competition appears to play a role in most musical traditions. Nevertheless,
most standard reference works in the music field, such as New Grove Dictionary
of Music and Musicians, do not offer entries for ‘‘competition’’. While Garland
Encyclopedia of Ethnomusicology does not address the theme of competition
directly, it includes discussion of specific competitions within its descriptions of
various musical traditions. Among major music reference works, only Oxford
Companion to Music offers a brief overview entitled ‘‘competitions in music’’,
which limits its scope to Europe and North America.6 According to the Oxford
Companion to Music, ‘‘Musical contests of different sorts date back to ancient
times, from the Pythian Games held in Delphi in the sixth century B.C., through
the meetings of Welsh bards known as eisteddfodau (said to date from the
seventh century A.D.), to the medieval puys,’’ and according to a very brief
entry in the Oxford Dictionary of Music, the most famous music competitions in
history are ‘‘those involving Tannhäuser and Wolfram in the Hall of Song at the
Wartburg Castle in Wagner’s Tannhäuser (Act II) and the song contest on the
banks of the River Pegnitz at Nuremberg in Act III Sc.2 of Wagner’s Die
Meistersinger von Nürnberg – both events being based on reality.’’7
Music competitions are a subject of growing interest in the field of ethno-
musicology, as evidenced by a 2003 special edition of the journal World of
Music entitled, ‘‘Contesting Tradition: Cross-Cultural Studies of Musical Com-
petition’’. In the Preface to that issue, Frank Gunderson noted that studies of
global music traditions have demonstrated competition’s ‘‘role in defining and
refining performance practice and repertoire, as well as its importance in form-
ing and solidifying visions of community identity.’’8 The location of the world’s
largest music competition would seem to be a question of interest to ethnomu-
sicologists, yet this subject does not appear to have been discussed in the
ethnomusicological literature.
In the field of popular media, Guinness World Records credits WOMAD
(World Festival of Music, Arts and Dance) ‘‘which has presented more than 90
events in 20 different countries since 1982’’ as the ‘‘largest international music
festival.’’9 However, WOMAD is a non-competitive event. The Eurovision
Song Contest is one of the most widely publicized music contests in the world,
for which thousands of popular music vocalists from across Europe audition
for the chance to compete on live television, representing their nation of citizen-
ship.10 The total number of auditioning singers for Eurovision is believed to be
in the tens of thousands. In the case of Eurovision, there is an independent
selection process for contestants, administered by broadcasters (such as the
BBC, in the case of the UK) within each participating nation. As of 2011,
according to the Eurovision website, ‘‘In 2008, a record number of 43 countries
participated.’’11 If an average of 10,000 people auditioned for Eurovision in
each of these nations, the total would begin to rival the AJBA competition.
However, Eurovision does not provide such information, and there is little
indication that more than 1,000 singers on average would be permitted to

audition for Eurovision in most of the nations represented. According to the
Eurovision official website, ‘‘It is entirely up to the participating broadcasters to
decide how they pick their entry.’’ Additionally, according to Eurovision:
In most countries, televised national selections take place, and usually anyone can send
in songs. A selection committee then picks the songs that will take part in the national
selection, and a jury or viewers (or a mix of both) decide upon the winner. Some
broadcasters pick their entry for the Eurovision Song Contest internally. A selection
committee then picks the representing artists, and sometimes also the song to be
performed.12
In other words, even if the total number of contestants auditioning for a

chance to participate in Eurovision exceeds the number of contestants that
participate in the AJBA competition (which appears unlikely), the selection
process within each nation in Eurovision is technically a separate competition,
since national selection is freely determined by individual broadcasters and not
directly administrated by Eurovision. However, in the case of AJBA, the entire
contest, at local and regional levels, is directly part of the AJBA national
competition for which membership is required and all participants must play
a selection from the same set of required pieces. Either way, AJBA would
arguably still be the largest music contest in terms of the number of active
competitors in a single, unified competition.
Currently in the United States, one of the largest of music competitions is the
audition for the hit television show, American Idol. According to the American
Idol website, a recent series of the program proceeded from a pool of ‘‘50,000
auditioners’’ to crown a single individual on the show.13 In the field of competitive
band events in the USA, Bands of America is the prominent organization. Accord-
ing to the Bands of America website, more than 70,000 teenagers participate in its
activities that include both competitions and non-competitive festivals.14
Several regional and national music competitions claim a significant number
of participants. One is the Winnipeg Music Competition, in Canada, ‘‘with over
30,000 competitors each year.’’15 Another large contest is the Australian
National Campus Band Competition, ‘‘already the biggest band competition
in the southern hemisphere.’’16
Various pan-European brass band competitions play a significant role in the
band world, yet none involve hundreds of thousands of contestants. Among the
largest of brass contests in Europe is the regional competition in Valencia,
Spain, a unique spectacle that often features more than 30,000 contestants. It
is notable that the 1936 Berlin Olympic Games included an international music
competition, but it was not very large, and four out of six medals were awarded
to Germans.17 Highly populated nations, such as China and India, have sup-
ported sizable music festivals and contests, however none are known to involve
large ensembles competing at a national level that would exceed a few hundred
thousand competitors. Still, recalling the discussion of China’s recent meteoric
rise in the field of western music, one may reasonably predict that China will
someday have a music competition that is larger than the AJBA contest, for this
seems inevitable, merely matter of time. Nevertheless, for the time being the
AJBA contest appears to still have no significant rivals in terms of size, and
Chinese may especially have much to learn from careful study of the adminis-
tration of this competition. One historical competition, held every 2 years from
1976 to 1989, may conceivably have become larger than the All-Japan Band
Association contest for a while, but it was a contest that involved an enormous
range of stage performances of all kinds, and it is rather difficult to confirm the
actual numbers associated with its music component. That contest was the
‘‘Song to Romania’’ festival, which is believed to have had from 2 to 5 million
people competing across a vast array of different artistic fields in honor of
Nicolae Ceausescu (1918–1989), the communist leader of Romania renowned
for his ‘‘personality cult.’’18 While this was probably the largest cultural com-
petition in history, it must be noted that it was not held annually, the actual size
of its music section is unclear, and it has not existed for the past 20 years.
The All-Japan Band Association national band contest, with its over 14,000
bands and an estimated 700,000 participants (as of 2010), appears to be the
world’s largest music competition. Certainly in terms of sheer size, the AJBA
annual band competition is globally significant, and its importance in terms of
the performing level of its participants is also well documented. It may come as
no surprise to learn that choral music is also organized around competitions in
Japan. As of 2004, the Japan Choral Association, which has sponsored a
Children’s Song Competition since 1932, consists of ‘‘over 5,000 groups and
140,000 members’’ and it reportedly ‘‘is – and promises to continue to be – one
of the leading choral associations in the world.’’19 Nevertheless, some notable
leaders in the music field in Japan have expressed ambivalence regarding the
role of competition in music. Genichi Kawakami, founder of the Yamaha music
school system (the world’s largest network of community music schools), con-
cluded that ‘‘Competition is a necessary evil, because it provides learners with
the opportunity to be recognized by the world. However, it leads to a decadence
in music, if we think the aim of music is just to compete.’’20 It would seem that
some aspects of musical competition might be detrimental, while others are
clearly beneficent.
Does competition positively or negatively affect music learning, and how are
music competitions perceived differently by educators, inside and outside of
Japan? National school band competitions have played an important role in the
music education systems of various nations. Chou’s study of school concert
bands in Taipei (Taiwan) reached the following conclusions:
[Participation] in the National Music Competition was a chief focus in their band
programs. The National Music Competition deeply influenced student interest in
playing the instruments and satisfaction with the band programs. Also, student atti-
tudes toward band participation in the competition continuously became more positive
during the pre-competition and final preparation periods, and after the competition
period.21
In the United States as well, a national school band competition existed for a
brief period in the 1920s and 1930s. Burdett studied the development of this
contest, and observed that ‘‘The National School Band Tournament of 1923
was sponsored by music instrument manufacturing companies’’ and that ‘‘by
1937 ten regional competition-festivals replaced the previous single national
contest.’’22
Competition, particularly its effect on student motivation for participation
and achievement in music, is a topic that has been researched extensively in the
USA and other Western nations. Many American music educators view com-
petition as an ineffective motivational strategy.23 In recent decades, most
American school band contests have transformed into ‘‘festivals’’ in which less
emphasis is placed on obtaining awards. Festivals may include a clinic or
workshop component, in which an accomplished director conducts the group
through some of their pieces and attempts to give helpful tips to the director and
students. Additionally, Ponick observed that American music competitions
‘‘have usually included a sight-reading component, so teachers are encouraged
to do a good variety of literature, sight-read regularly in rehearsal, and not
simply drill the contest pieces for months.’’24
Some research studies among American band directors have indicated sup-
port for band competitions.25 However, the vast majority of American music
educators to write about competition have indicated concerns regarding possi-
ble negative effects, which some even view as antithetical to the fundamental
objectives of music education.26 American university band directors have even
suggested that inexpressive performance may be a result of bad habits formed
through participation in competitions. Michigan State University Director of
Bands John Whitwell, for example, suggested that competitions may have a
detrimental effect on musical interpretation, noting that ‘‘musical interpreta-
tion is the weakest area in our teaching and in the performance of our ensembles
today. It may be partially due to the contest or festival influences which have
played such a large role in the history of our public school ensembles.’’27
Whitwell’s reasoning here was based upon the observation that ‘‘It is certainly
easier to evaluate and quantify the accurate playing of rhythms, the fluency of
technical demands, and the correctness of intonation than to disagree with the
interpretation of a colleague.’’28 Following Whitwell’s argument, it would seem
that regular participation in competitions may lead band directors to place
priority on issues that do not merit such emphasis, and to devote inadequate
attention to some of the most crucial musical concerns.
Finally, viewed from a broader perspective, no examination of competition is
complete without consideration of the compelling argument presented in the
definitive polemic against the efficacy of competition in its myriad forms
throughout all domains of human life: Alfie Kohn’s influential No Contest: The
Case Against Competition.29 Through an impressive review of hundreds of
research studies, Kohn argued that all forms of competition – except challenges
to oneself – are harmful and unnecessary, serving only to divide people into
groups of winners and losers. Kohn concluded that the organization of human
Notes 151
behaviors and meanings around the trope of competition is a root cause of many
social problems, and demonstrated how – contrary to common perception –
competition does not lead to greater productivity. To the contrary, cooperative
approaches in educational and business organizations may improve perfor-
mance, and increase satisfaction and quality of life. Kohn’s argument is elegant
and compelling. Yet, it is also extremely impractical. It takes a great stretch of the
imagination to picture a world in which humans have ceased to be competitive.
As educators we are obligated to balance such idealism with pragmatic consid-
erations, for the sake of our students’ futures. Surely it benefits the future career
of any young and talented concert pianist to actively participate in concerto
competitions, regardless of one’s opinions concerning whether such events
ought to even exist. However, at the systemic level, in the executive planning,
budgeting, and administration of music education organizations, Kohn’s argu-
ment may deserve a voice. Clearly, the value of competitive activities in music is a
subject of continued debate, and further research is needed in this area.
The AJBA competition is, in many ways, a uniquely important event in the
music world. It serves as an emotionally-charged rite of passage, bringing
musicians together from across all of Japan to share the joys of music, the
thrills of victory, and the anguish of loss. It provides recognition to some of the
world’s finest school ensembles, and helps motivate bands throughout Japan to
achieve their greatest potential. It also contributes to band repertoire through
annual commissions, and provides an effective network for lifelong participa-
tion in music. These are commendable achievements that merit the attention of
international musicians and educators.
Notes
1. See Krushinsky (2003) and Safier (1996) for detailed discussion of Yasukuni Shrine.
2. These details were obtained from the TMEA official website (Texas Music Educators
Association, n.d.).
3. According to the Texas guidelines (as of January 30, 2002), ‘‘(a). In even-numbered years,
classifications 5A and 3A high schools, 3C, 2C, and 1C middle schools may enter tapes. (b).
In odd-numbered years, classifications 4A, 2A, 1A, 1B/2B/3B (combined) junior high
schools may enter recordings. In junior high school, a competition will occur at the state
level only if there is an adequate number of schools to justify such a competition (five or
more is suggested).’’
4. According to the Texas guidelines, ‘‘The bands ranked in the top fifty percent of the
recordings in each classification will be listed as Finalists outside of the TMEA Band
Division Office,’’ and ‘‘The rankings of the bands in the bottom 50% of the tapes in each
classification will be made available only to the directors of those bands.’’
5. This is discussed by Allen (1962), p. 24.
6. See Latham and Spencer (2002).
7. See Oxford Dictionary of Music (n.d.), and Latham and Spencer (n.d.).
8. See Gunderson (2003), p. 7, as well as other articles in the same issue. Other notable
competitions have been studied by ethnomusicologists in such nations as Thailand (Phoa-
savadi, 2005) and Ghana (Pier, 2009), where this author has also had the pleasure of
observing musicians.
9. See the Guinness website for further details (Guinness World Records, n.d.).
10. See Bohlman (2004) and Raykoff and Tobin (2007) for scholarly analyses of this event.
Reaching its 55th anniversary in 2010, the Eurovision Song Contest remains ‘‘the largest
and most watched international festival of popular music, as well as one of the world’s
longest-running annual television programs’’ (Raykoff & Tobin, 2007, p. xvii).
11. Eurovision: Facts and Figures (n.d.).
12. Eurovision: How to Participate (n.d.).
13. Discussed on the American Idol website (American Idol, n.d.).
14. Discussed on the Bands of America website (Bands of America, n.d.).
15. Discussed on the Winnipeg Music Festival website (Winnipeg Music Festival, n.d.).
16. Discussed on the NCMC website (NCMC: National Campus Band Competition, n.d.).
17. See Cohen (1997) for a rigorous and thorough discussion of Spanish bands. In Europe,
other researchers have examined the British brass band movement (Odello, 2005), and
some have even credited competitions for the rise of early European art music (Vaubel,
2005). See Yoshida (2009) for historical discussion of music and art contests in the
Olympic Games.
18. See Giurchescu (1987).
19. See Tsutsumi (2007), p. 3.
20. See Kawakami (1987), p. 234.
21. See Chou (2001).
22. See Burdett (1986) for detailed discussion.
23. This position is conveyed in several different publications (Austin, 1990; Hosler, 2002;
Miller, 1994).
24. See Ponick (2001), p. 24.
25. A survey of 293 American band directors by Hurst (1994) determined that ‘‘the most
important reasons for participation in music competitions were that they provide a sense
of accomplishment for students, help maintain quality student performance and high
standards for music education, provide a means of evaluation, and a clear goal for
instruction.’’ Some American music education researchers have suggested that with
increased involvement in music competitions, ensemble members tend to view competi-
tions more favourably (Burnsed & Sochinski, 1983). Sheldon’s experimental study of 226
American high school band students found that under identical conditions, performances
believed to be associated with competitions were rated more highly than those believed to
be associated with regular concerts (Sheldon, 1994). This finding would suggest that
students may place greater value on competitive performances.
26. Moody warned that ‘‘Many parents and school authorities seem to prefer trophies to
music education. . . . The excitement of competition may cause the public to believe that
all the glitter is pure gold, but band directors should know the difference. For the same
reason that doctors practice medicine rather than witchcraft, the first goal of professional
teachers should be education rather than entertainment’’ (Moody, 1983, p. 81). Austin
wrote that ‘‘Many of today’s music educators are immersed in the race to be number one,
and at times it is difficult to tell where the athletic field ends and the music classroom
begins. Well-meaning rhetoric continues to surround competitive music events, but in the
final analysis, education appears to be a serendipitous byproduct, rather than a primary
goal, for the many teachers and students who cling to contest outcomes for social status or
material rewards’’ (Austin, 1990, p. 22). And empirical research concerning competition
within American ensembles has concluded that ‘‘competition may inhibit, rather than
enhance, learning and performance’’ (Austin, 1991, p. 154). Hosler offered the suggestion
that ‘‘directors should re-examine the reasons they have for participating in competitions’’
and ‘‘should base the performance schedule for the year on interesting literature, not
around marching and concert competition dates’’ (Hosler, 2002, p. 30). He also observed
that ‘‘Although competitions have some value as a source of motivation and pride, this
becomes a detriment when the competition becomes more important than the music’’
References 153
(Hosler, 2002, p. 30). According to MENC past-president Dorothy Straub, ‘‘If, in pre-
paration for contest, the routine of rehearsals is an endless repetition of limited repertoire,
students may not see music as something they can enjoy for the rest of their lives. Then we
have defeated our purpose’’ (Ponick, 2001, p. 23). Miller reached the conclusion that ‘‘All
contests, be they competitive or not, should be done without rating systems at all. Very
few directors, let alone students, are able to get past the number they receive and
objectively analyze the comments of the adjudicators. The reaction a director has to a
critical comment about phrasing is different when accompanied by a I rather than a III’’
(Miller, 1994, p. 31). Here Miller referred to a standardized rating system used by
adjudicators to evaluate the performances of school bands within American festivals.
27. See Whitwell’s discussion in Williamson and Neidig (1998), p. 83. Whitwell’s reasoning
here was based upon the observation that ‘‘It is certainly easier to evaluate and quantify
the accurate playing of rhythms, the fluency of technical demands, and the correctness of
intonation than to disagree with the interpretation of a colleague.’’
28. This is also from Williamson and Neidig (1998), p. 83. This opens up the issue of
evaluation and ranking as well, which is inevitably challenging for judges. Studies have
determined that bias becomes a factor in even the most prestigious music competitions
(Glejser & Heyndels, 2001).
29. See Kohn (1992).
References
Allen, W. D. (1962). Philosophies of music history: A study of general histories of music

1600–1960. New York: Dover.
American Idol: Show Info. (n.d.) Retrieved October 25, 2004, from http://www.idolonfox.
com/showinfo/
Austin, J. R. (1990). Competition: Is music education the loser? Music Educators Journal, 76
(6), 21–25.
Austin, J. R. (1991). Competitive and non-competitive goal structures: An analysis of motiva-
tion and achievement among elementary band students. Psychology of Music, 19, 142–158.
Bands of America. (n.d.). About Bands of America. Retrieved October 25, 2004, from http://
www.bands.org/public/resourceroom/about.asp
Bohlman, P. V. (2004). The music of European nationalism. Santa Barbara, CA: ABC-CLIO.
Burdett, N. D. (1986). The high school music contest movement in the United States. Doctoral
dissertation, Boston University.
Burnsed, V., & Sochinski, J. (1983). Research on competitions. Music Educators Journal, 70,
25–27.
Chou, I. (2001). The national music competition in Taiwan: A study of attitudinal values of band
participation (China). Master thesis, University of Southern California.
Cohen, R. S. (1997). The musical society community bands of Valencia, Spain: A global study of
their administration, instrumentation, repertoire and performance activities. Doctoral dis-
sertation, Northwestern University.
Eurovision: Facts and Figures. (n.d.). Retrieved September 11, 2011, from http://www.euro-
vision.tv/page/history/facts-figures
Eurovision: How to Participate. (n.d.). Retrieved September 11, 2011, from http://www.
eurovision.tv/page/dusseldorf-2011/about/national-selections/how-to-participate
Giurchescu, A. (1987). The national festival ‘‘Song to Romania’’: Manipulation of symbols in
the political discourse. In C. Arvidsson & L. E. Blomqvist (Eds.), Symbols of power: The
esthetics of political legitimation in the Soviet Union and Eastern Europe (pp. 163–171).
Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell International.
Glejser, H., & Heyndels, B. (2001). Efficiency and inefficiency in the ranking in competitions:
The case of the Queen Elisabeth music contest. Journal of Cultural Economics, 25, 109–129.
Guinness World Records. (n.d.). Find a world record. Retrieved October 25, 2004, from http://
www.guinnessworldrecords.com/
Gunderson, F. (2003). Preface. World of Music, 45(1), 7–10.
Hosler, M. (2002). Burned out by competitions. Instrumentalist, 56(10), 30–31.
Hurst, C. W. (1994). A nationwide investigation of high school band directors’ reasons for
participating in music competitions. Doctoral dissertation, University of North Texas.
Foundation.
Kohn, A. (1992). No contest: The case against competition. New York: Mariner Books.
Krushinsky, A. (2003, January 15). Japanese Prime Minister shocks the world visiting
Yasukuni Shrine. Pravda (D. Sudakov, Trans.).
Latham, A., & Spencer, P. (Eds.). (2002). Competitions in music. In Oxford companion to
music (pp. 276–278). Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Miller, R. E. (1994). A dysfunctional culture: Competition in music. Music Educators Journal,
81(3), 29–33.
Moody, W. J. (1983). Education and contests. Instrumentalist, 38(1), 84.
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yap.com.au/bandcomp/
Odello, D. (2005). Re-contextualizing music: Emergent community and values in the brass band
movement of nineteenth-century England. Doctoral dissertation, University of California.
Ann Arbor, MI: Proquest/UMI.
Oxford Dictionary of Music. (n.d.). ‘‘Competitions, Musical.’’ 2nd ed. rev., M. Kennedy (Ed.).
Oxford Music Online. Retrieved April 13, 2010, from http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com.
ezproxy.bu.edu/subscriber/article/opr/t237/e2317
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competition in contemporary Bangkok (Thailand). Doctoral dissertation, University of
Washington. Ann Arbor, MI: Proquest/UMI.
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traditional music competition. Doctoral dissertation, City University of New York. Ann
Arbor, MI: Proquest/UMI.
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Eurovision song contest. Aldershot: Ashgate.
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twentieth century Japan. Master thesis, University of Kansas.
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students’ ratings of band performances. Bulletin of the Council for Research in Music
Education, 121, 29–41.
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2004, from http://www.tmea.org/
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State University. Ann Arbor, MI: Proquest/UMI.
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Journal of Cultural Economics, 29, 277–297.
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Services.
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Winnipeg Music Festival. Retrieved October 25, 2004, from http://www.wmcf.org/
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boundary problem between art and sport. Aesthetics, 13, 111–120.
Chapter 9
Japanese Composers and Wind Band Repertoire
親の心子知らず
Oyano kokoro ko shirazu
‘‘A child knows not its parent’s love’’
9.1 Repertoire Selection
On several occasions I asked Ishikawa Middle School students about their

opinions of the music that the band played and how the repertoire was chosen.
They indicated that all of the music was chosen by Kato Sensei without their
input. Seeking confirmation, I asked Kato Sensei how musical selections were
chosen for the band.
She explained, ‘‘For the competition and concerts, I listen to what other
school bands are playing . . .’’
‘‘Like a spy?,’’ I jokingly asked. We laughed.
She continued, ‘‘Ah yes, like a spy. I remember the pieces I like, and that I
think are the kind the students will like, and then search for them. Students
don’t become very good at performing pieces they dislike.’’
Among contemporary Japanese band composers, Kato Sensei particularly
appreciated the work of Yasuhide Ito. She explained that ‘‘His compositions
use Japanese folk song styles, which I like very much. His work is excellent.
And, I think he makes pieces with which one can easily win at the band
competitions and that work well for the level of the students.’’ Ito is widely
regarded as a leading Japanese wind band composer, and his works are dis-
cussed elsewhere.1
Kato Sensei’s view regarding Japanese band compositions was generally
quite positive. However, on one occasion when asked to describe the pieces
played at competitions, her answer took on a much more serious tone. Kato
Sensei explained as follows:
For the competitions, the body of works considered appropriate, from which one may
select, has become smaller. One has to consider what will appeal to the small group of
judges, and that seems to have some negative effects. For instance, at the competition
you just attended there was no jazz or popular music. While there are no explicit rules
156 9 Japanese Composers and Wind Band Repertoire
about genres one cannot play, clearly people tend more often to win performing certain
kinds of pieces. Even if you do a very impressive performance in a different genre, you
are quite unlikely to receive a medal. It seems to be a bit of a poison.
While Kato Sensei recognized some variety in the contest repertoire, she
noted that there is ‘‘still no real jazz or popular music’’ performed at the
competitions. Here she made an important point regarding a complex theme
explored in the interview with the AJBA Director (Chapter 8). Namely, this
entailed the issues of tradition and authority: how has wind band music been
defined as a genre in Japan, how wide or narrow is this definition, who has the
authority to determine such delineations, and to what extent has the genre been
reinvented in Japan? It was clear from such discussions that the requirements of
the AJBA competition play a significant role in definition of the genre and
establishment of a tradition that the AJBA Director indicated must be ‘‘main-
tained.’’ This kind of process can only occur through a system of cooperation
between the AJBA administration, band directors, composers, and publishers.
9.2 AJBA Required Pieces
Writing in 1978, Neidig observed that in Japan ‘‘the majority of band music
used in schools is imported from U.S. publishers.’’2 During the 25 years since
Neidig’s publication, this situation has changed dramatically, as Japanese
publishers have especially monopolized the domestic market for band works.
This situation developed as band composers increasingly produced original
wind compositions and band arrangements of music specifically to meet the
requirements of the band competition system. With this point in mind, it seems
important now to describe the repertoire associated with Japanese bands,
particularly within the AJBA competition system. Analysis will demonstrate
that an effective system of cooperative relationships between composers, pub-
lishers and consumers has produced the body of repertoire commonly per-
formed by Japanese bands.
For the AJBA national competition, each band is required to perform two
pieces. One, the ‘‘required piece’’ (kadaikyoku), is to be chosen from a selection
of new band works commissioned each year by AJBA specifically for the
competition. For the 50th AJBA competition, the Ishikawa Middle School
band played Tadashi Adachi’s ‘‘ ‘Rapsodia’ for Band’’ as its required piece.
The full score for this piece was published by the All-Japan Band Association
earlier in the year, and a CD recording of its live performance at the national
competition for middle school bands was also later released by the organiza-
tion.3 The other composition performed for the contest, a ‘‘free piece’’ (jiyu-
kyoku), is selected by each ensemble, yet may not exceed the time limitations set
in the competition guidelines. The Ishikawa Middle School Band played a wind
band arrangement of themes from Tchaikovky’s ‘‘Swan Lake’’ as its free piece
at the 50th AJBA competition. In recent years, the AJBA has annually selected
9.2 AJBA Required Pieces 157
four new pieces by four different composers for use as a ‘‘required piece.’’ This
practice of annual commissions has fostered the development of a large body of
original Japanese band works, and encouraged many young Japanese compo-
sers to create music for the wind band idiom.
At the 50th AJBA competition, the four required pieces (from which one
must be chosen by each band) were the following: (1) Lament for Wind Orches-
tra, by Chang Su Koh, (2) Remembrances, by Hiroshi Okada, (3) Miniature
Symphony in Eb major, by Hiroshi Hara, and (4) ‘‘Rapsodia’’ for Band, by
Tadashi Adachi.4 Of these pieces, ‘‘Miniature Symphony’’ appears to have
been the least popular (a very predictable piece with little rhythmic or harmonic
appeal), and the majority of successful bands chose ‘‘Lament for Wind Orches-
tra,’’ which is slow, yet harmonically rich and expressive. At the lowest level of
competition, among the Class A (large sized) middle school bands at the local
contest in Tokyo, there had been a broad spread of preference among these
selections, with 12 bands performing Lament for Wind Orchestra, 20 bands
performing Remembrances, 6 bands performing Miniature Symphony in Eb
major, and 19 bands performing ‘‘Rapsodia’’ for Band.5
However, as the contest progressed from local (Tokyo city) to regional
(Kanto area) levels, some clear tendencies emerged. Of the six bands that
qualified for the regional competition, three performed Lament for Wind
Orchestra and three performed ‘‘Rapsodia’’ for Band, while the pieces by
Okada and Hara were not performed at all. Then, at the national level, 18
bands performed ‘‘Lament’’, 7 performed Remembrances, only 2 performed
Miniature Symphony in Eb major, and 9 performed ‘‘Rapsodia’’ for Band.
Although it originally ranked third in preference at the lowest level of competi-
tion in Tokyo, clearly, ‘‘Rapsodia’’ was the most popular selection among
middle school bands that managed to reach the national level. ‘‘Rapsodia’’
was also the most popular ‘‘required piece’’ among successful high school
bands, where at the national level it was performed by 11 bands, while two
bands performed Remembrances, and Hara and Adachi’s pieces remained
unperformed. From this sample of data, it looks likely that even in the case of
required pieces there may be a correlation between repertoire choice and
competition placement that is worth exploration through further research.
Since Lament for Wind Orchestra emerged as the most important band work
associated with the 2002 competition winners, it may be useful here to describe
its characteristics in detail.6 The composer profile included in sheet music scores
and concert programs explains that Koh was born in 1970, and is a graduate of
the Composition Department of the Osaka College of Music (Japan) who also
studied abroad at the Basel Academy of Music in Switzerland. The profile also
mentions that Koh has composed a number of chamber wind pieces for various
instrumentations. Koh’s ‘‘Lament for Wind Orchestra’’ is harmonically and
texturally the most complex piece among the four required selections of the
AJBA 2002 competition. It features unison lines in unpredictable, disjunct
melodies spanning unusual intervals, often juxtaposed against dissonant sus-
pensions. There are several exposed parts that entail performance risks for
various instrumental sections: brief flute, oboe and trumpet solos, as well as soli
passages for the horn and low brass sections. The piece gradually builds in
harmonic density and swells in volume to reach an impressive peak at its
conclusion.
9.3 AJBA Free Pieces
Since it usually takes about 5 min to perform each of the kadaikyoku (required
piece) options, the jiyukyoku (free piece) must be short, typically lasting from
5½ to 6½ min. Judges are very strict about disqualifying bands that exceed
their time limit on stage, as such practices could potentially delay the entire
competition. Japanese band directors view such ‘‘free pieces’’ in terms of three
categories: (I) band arrangements of famous orchestral classics, (II) original
band works by Western composers, and (III) original Japanese band works.
The following figure illustrates the yearly breakdown of works performed as
a ‘‘free piece’’ at the AJBA competition in terms of these three categories
(Fig. 9.1).
Over a 10-year period, these percentages have remained fairly consistent,
with around half the bands choosing to perform a band arrangement of a
famous European orchestral work.7 Approximately 30% tended to select an
original band work by a Western composer from 1995 to 2002, but from 2003
through 2005 the proportion of bands choosing to perform an original Japanese
band piece significantly increased from its original level of around 1/6 to nearly
1/4 of the total. These proportions look rather different at the national level of
competition,8 where approximately 2/3 of the bands have tended to perform
arrangements of European orchestral works during the years 1996 through
2006 (Fig. 9.2).
How do these figures look in terms of specific pieces? Selections lasting from
5½ to 6½ min from the following list of compositions (Fig. 9.3) were performed
as the ‘‘free piece’’ by the 29 middle school bands that reached the highest
Year (I) Arrangement (II) Western Band (III) Japanese Band

1995 52.5% (479) 29.8% (272) 17.8% (161)
1996 60.5% (552) 26.8% (244) 12.7% (116)
1997 55.2% (503) 28.2% (257) 16.6% (151)
1998 54.9% (501) 30.3% (278) 14.7% (135)
1999 52.0% (485) 32.5% (303) 15.5% (144)
2000 55.1% (538) 30.4% (297) 14.4% (141)
2001 54.3% (524) 29.7% (287) 15.9% (154)
2002 52.9% (526) 30.4% (302) 16.8% (167)
2003 48.8% (496) 27.7% (282) 23.5% (239)
2004 50.1% (502) 29.6% (295) 20.4% (204)
2005 46.1% (472) 29.1% (298) 24.7% (253)
Fig. 9.1 ‘‘Free piece’’ categories in the AJBA regional competitions

9.3 AJBA Free Pieces 159
Year (I) Arrangement (II) Western Band (III) Japanese Band

2004 55.32% (52) 21.28% (20) 23.4% (22)
2005 51.06% (48) 25.53% (24) 23.4% (22)
2006 63.83% (60) 14.89% (14) 21.28% (20)
96−06 65.86% (625) 18.12% (172) 16.02% (152)
Fig. 9.2 ‘‘Free piece’’ categories in the AJBA national competition
Title Composer
(1) Escales Jacques Ibert (I)
(2) Raymonda Alexander Glazunov (I)
(3) Armenian Dances, Part I Alfred Reed (II)
(4) Pagan Dances James Barnes (II)
(5) Till Eulenspiegels Lustige Streiche Richard Strauss (I)
(6) Symphony No.1 Philip Sparke (II)
(7) Feste Romane Ottorino Respighi (I)
(8) Aki no Heiankyo Tetsunosuke Kushida (III)
(9) Foster Gallery Morton Gould (II)
(10) Le Cid Ballet Suite Jules Massenet (I)
(11) American Knights! Stephen Melillo (II)
(12) Foster Gallery Morton Gould (II)
(13) Riverdance Bill Whelan (II)
(14) Toshiie and Matsu Toshiyuki Watanabe (III)
(15) Jocuri Poporale Romanesti Bela Bartok (I)
(16) Global Variations Nigel Hess (II)
(17) American Knights! Stephen Melillo (II)
(18) Don Juan Richard Strauss (I)
(19) Celtic Rhapsody Tomohiro Tatede (III)
(20) Tosca Giacomo Puccini (I)
(21) The Inn of the Sixth Happiness Malcolm Arnold (I)
(22) The Inn of the Sixth Happiness Malcolm Arnold (I)
(23) Gayane Aram Kachaturian (I)
(24) The Bronze Horseman (I)
(25) Ein Heldenleben Richard Strauss (I)
(26) Salome’s Dance Richard Strauss (I)
(27) The Swan Lake Petr Ilyich Tchaikovsky (I)
(28) St. Anthony Variations William Hill (II)
(29) The Red Poppy (I)
Fig. 9.3 ‘‘Free pieces’’ of middle school bands at 50th AJBA nationals
(national) level of the 50th AJBA competition (printed verbatim, using spellings
as listed in the 2002 program). Roman numerals listed after the composers’
names indicate how each piece may be grouped according to the same categories
used in the two preceding figures.
A wide variety of nationalities are represented among these composers:
Japanese, Russian, American, British, German, Italian and Hungarian. American
and Russian composers are particularly well represented, although in different
categories: original American band works (by Alfred Reed, James Barnes, and
Morton Gould, for example), and Japanese arrangements of Russian orchestral
works (including pieces by Glazunov, Kachaturian, Tchaikovsky and Gliere).
Most of the listed pieces were performed by only one band, but three, ‘‘Foster
Gallery’’, ‘‘American Knights!’’, and ‘‘The Inn of the Sixth Happiness’’ were
performed twice each. In the case of ‘‘The Inn of the Sixth Happiness’’, two
bands performed different selections from within the same piece, so these
performances may be viewed as essentially different pieces. It is also worth
noting that Richard Strauss was by far the most popular composer, with four
different selections performed (Till Eulenspiegels Lustige Streiche (sic.), Don
Juan, Ein Heldenleben, and Salome’s Dance).
During the decade from 1996 to 2006, ten composers were particularly
popular at the national level of competition (Fig. 9.4).
Japanese composer Masamichi Amano’s works have been frequently
performed at the AJBA nationals along with that of nine Europeans from
various nations, especially Italy and parts of Eastern Europe. However, other
Japanese composers have also been gaining popularity. In 2006, one of Toshio
Mashima’s pieces ‘‘Mitsu no Japanism’’ was the most performed original
Japanese band work at the regional level of composition, with a total of 17
performances.9
It is important to note that despite the international appearance of these
selections, most pieces listed as compositions by famous European composers
actually consist of band transcriptions by Japanese arrangers that are published
on Japanese presses. Upon careful examination of the pieces played by middle
school bands at the 50th AJBA national competition, one finds that 19 of the 26
‘‘free pieces’’ were either composed or arranged by Japanese composers. There-
fore, if one views the 29 bands – performing 2 pieces each – as 58 distinct
performances (which is the legal position in terms of intellectual property),
one finds that 49 out of the 58 pieces performed (85%) were either composed
or arranged by Japanese musicians and made available exclusively through
Japanese presses and distributors. In other words, all profits remain in Japan
associated with the sales and performance of such pieces (as well as recorded
Rank Composer Performances

1 Maurice Ravel 77
2 Ottorino Respighi 63
3 Richard Strauss 60
4 Malcolm Arnold 42
5 Bela Bartok 41
6 Masamichi Amano 34
6 Giacomo Puccini 34
Fig. 9.4 Consistently 8 Zoltan Kodaly 26
popular composers at AJBA 9 Aram Katchaturian 21
nationals (1996–2006) 10 Franco Cesarini 20
9.3 AJBA Free Pieces 161
models) to the thousands of bands participating in the AJBA competition. This

finding may be of interest to composers and publishers of wind music outside of
Japan.
For what reasons are such pieces chosen? The first issue of fundamental
importance is length. Depending upon the exact length of the ‘‘required piece’’
chosen and the amount of time it takes for a large ensemble to move completely
on and off the stage, bands are able to perform a ‘‘free piece’’ that lasts for
approximately 5½ to 6½ min. This limitation profoundly affects repertoire
choice. Within this extremely short time span, each band aims to present an
impressive performance. For such purposes, Japanese band directors seek
pieces that are emotionally expressive, technically difficult, and highly demon-
strative of playing within each instrumental section of the ensemble, all within
the space of a few minutes. Very few original Western band pieces comfortably
fit each of these strict requirements. Therefore, Japanese composers are hired to
arrange excerpts from some of the most impressive, highly expressive, and
technically complex Western orchestral classics into brief showpieces for
band. Over time, a collaborative – even symbiotic – relationship has formed
between Japanese school band conductors, publishers, and composers, united
by their objective to produce effective show pieces for the AJBA competition.
It is also important to note that although many competitive Japanese school
bands devote the majority of their time to perfecting the performance of
technically complex works for the AJBA competition, they also play other
kinds of music during the academic year. Some school bands adopt a ‘‘marching
band’’ format for part of the Autumn months, for which they perform marches
and participate in parades. It is also very common for school bands to learn
several kayoukyoku (popular song arrangements) for poppusu suteeji (popular
music shows), which can comprise either one section – usually at the very end
following the more difficult kurashikku (art music) pieces – or even an entire
concert of familiar song arrangements, usually offered for the local community.
Such programs typically include wind band arrangements of movie soundtrack
themes (especially from Japanese anime, but also major Hollywood blockbus-
ters), Broadway showtunes (especially by Andrew Lloyd Weber), famous songs
popularized by Frank Sinatra, The Beatles, Elvis, the Beach Boys, and the
Carpenters, as well as hits by an array of Japanese rock and ‘‘J-pop’’ musicians,
such as Mr. Children, Southern All Stars, and Dreams Come True. Some of
these pieces can be rather mundane, but other arrangements – including some
particularly memorable ones of tunes by Antonio Carlos Jobim, for example –
can be quite effective. This tradition of playing popular tunes may arguably be
traced as far back as to the jinta of the early twentieth century. Typically, when
arrangements of popular music are included in a concert along with the kinds of
pieces performed at the competition, they are clearly separated by an intermis-
sion, and the bands will adopt an entirely different approach to their perfor-
mance. Although an atmosphere of extreme formality is maintained during any
performance of the kind of ‘‘serious’’ compositions associated with the competi-
tion, during performances of popular music it is not unusual for bands to wear
‘‘funny’’ hats, stand for instrumental soli parts, make wild gestures on cue,
throw objects, and even lift their legs in unison like a can-can dance. Such
behaviors clearly indicate that this music is understood to be light and enjoy-
able, and interviews with school band members confirmed that ‘‘both kinds’’ of
music were widely appreciated for different reasons: the competition music for
the challenge it offered and the beauty associated with its most expressive
moments, and the popular music for the sheer fun of playing it as well as the
enjoyment it apparently gave to audiences.
9.4 Japanese Band Composers
Who are the notable Japanese composers and arrangers for wind bands and
what are the characteristic features of their works? These questions are impor-
tant ones that surely could only be adequately covered by another book devoted
exclusively to this topic. Perhaps that project will also come to fruition in the
near future, but for now the purpose of this section will be to provide a general
introduction to some of the more influential Japanese band composers with
description of their diverse approaches to composition for the wind band idiom.
In recent decades, Japanese composers have produced a unique body of
original works for wind band that fuse western art music with prominent
influences from Japanese traditional music and culture. Many of these works
were produced by commissions from professional Japanese wind bands or as
required pieces for the All-Japan Band Association competition, and the tech-
nical requirements of such pieces cover a broad range from pieces that are
playable by elementary school bands to complex works that can only be
performed by the most advanced of professional ensembles.
Six of the most well-known Japanese wind band composers have been
interviewed by the author, including Hiroshi Hoshina (b.1936), Yasuhide Ito
(b.1960), Toshio Mashima (b.1949), Masamichi Amano (b.1957), Isao Mat-
sushita (b.1951), and Tetsunosuke Kushida (b.1935).10 Considerable diversity
may be found among the biographical profiles of each of these artists as well as
their approaches to music composition.
Hoshina and Ito. Composers Hiroshi Hoshina and Yasuhide Ito have pro-
duced music inspired by infamous historical events from which ghosts are still
said to linger, including the annihilation of Hiroshima’s civilian population at
the conclusion of World War II and the martyrdom of Japanese Christians
during the early seventeenth century, respectively. Hoshina’s most well-known
wind band works include ‘‘Fu-Mon’’ and ‘‘Koshi: An Ancient Festival’’. The
harmonies of many of his pieces are impressionistic, particularly reminiscent of
Debussy, yet his melodies are often based on Japanese folk songs or thematic
material that is clearly evocative of Japanese traditional culture. Ito is around
25 years younger than Hoshina and he takes a rather different approach to
composition. His music tends to feature assymetrical meters and unusual
melodic shifts that often resemble the symphonies of Dmitri Shostakovich
9.4 Japanese Band Composers 163
who is among his favorite composers. Ito is most well known for his lengthy
piece Gloriosa, a dramatic wind symphony based on hymns that survived from
pre-Meiji Christianity in Japan. Ito teaches music for various universities and
conservatories in the Tokyo area, while Hoshina has worked for many years as
a Professor of music at Hyogo University of Education.
Matsushita. Composer Isao Matsushita is among Japan’s most respected
living composers, and holds an academic appointment as a Professor of music
composition at Tokyo University of the Arts. Matsushita’s most well known
work for band is ‘‘Dance of the Flying God’’, a piece based on Japanese
Buddhist principles. The first section of this music takes the notion of ‘‘enlight-
enment from a single tone’’ as its inspiration, a concept well-known among
shakuhachi players. All the wind band musicians play an identical pitch as they
gradually enter the performance space in a ritualistic invitation for the Hiten
(flying angelic beings of Buddhism) to enter the hall for the performance. As the
composer explains, the rhythmic motifs and development of the second section
are based entirely on Shomyo chant and mathematical principles derived from a
sacred Sanskrit text. Matsushita’s other most well known work, ‘‘Hi-Ten-Yu’’,
combines taiko drumming with western orchestral instruments. While Hoshina,
Ito, and Matsushita hold university-level music teaching appointments, other
band composers, such as Toshio Mashima and Masamichi Amano, have man-
aged to establish strong careers as professional composers entirely outside of
academia.
Mashima. Composer Toshio Mashima is a professional jazz trombonist and
award-winning composer, and his most well known band work is ‘‘Les Trois
Notes du Japon’’, based on three scenes from Kyoto. Each section of this piece
features symbols of Japanese spirituality, from the courting of cranes, to scenes
in a snowy ravine, and finally the Nebuta purification festival of Aomori.
Mashima has published numerous popular music arrangements for wind
bands, and much of his output is jazz-influenced. However, his more serious
band works are highly respected by peers. On December 16, 2006, he was
awarded the prestigious ‘‘Grand Prix des Conseils Généraux du Nord et de
Pas-de-Calais’’ for his recent wind symphony ‘‘La Danse du Phenix: Impression
de Kyoto.’’ The only award of its kind in the field of wind band composition,
this Grand Prix came with a cash prize of 10,000 Euros and a premier perfor-
mance by professional wind musicians at the Opera de Lille in France.
Amano. Composer Masamichi Amano is another very popular band com-
poser who has produced numerous arrangements and original works for the
wind band idiom, but is also widely known for composing soundtracks to
animated movies and major feature films. Amano has a strong affinity to Polish
culture and has often commissioned the Warsaw Philharmonic to record his
symphonic pieces. His soundtrack for the animated film ‘‘GR’’ (for Giant Robo:
The Day the Earth Stood Still) expresses a passionate response to the future
threat of dehumanizing technology. Amano’s soundtrack to the blockbuster
film ‘‘Battle Royale’’ brought him to international attention. Interestingly, the
plot of this infamously violent film symbolically protests the horrific effects of
an ultra-competitive educational system, which is a theme that some would

consider relevant to the social and institutional context of school bands in
Japan. Amano’s wind symphony ‘‘Ohnai’’ is a powerful homage to the victims
of Kobe’s Great Hanshin earthquake of 1995.
Kushida. Composer Tetsunosuke Kushida is also widely respected for pro-
ducing attractive works for young bands based on musical themes from tradi-
tional Japanese festivals and gagaku court music, as well as ‘‘Figuration for
Shakuhachi and Band’’, a fascinating piece that artfully combines shakuhachi
flute with western wind ensemble instrumentation. Kushida’s work tends to
sound very much like Japanese traditional music, as his compositional objec-
tives are to convey a Japanese musical sensibility through western instrumenta-
tion. Kushida described his intentions as follows:
I think there is something special about the Japanese conceptualization of how tradi-
tional Japanese music and western forms may be combined. Consider, for example, the
sound of the wind, the cries of birds, and the calls of insects, all of which have been
viewed as similar to music since ancient times in Japan. This is within all the arts, and
comes out in the literature, in the ukiyoe art works, and particularly in the monogatari
(tales). Beautiful sounds are considered to be music, therefore the perception of what is
defined as music may be different in Japan. I think that this unusual sense has also had
implications for wind band music. It is great to express this sensibility through Japanese
instruments such as koto and shakuhachi, but I thought that composing in this way for
wind ensemble would also be worthwhile, as this is a more global medium. Still,
I wondered if people from other nations would understand such a Japanese approach.
Recently even in Japan there are those who do not grasp this traditional Japanese
aesthetic sensibility, but I thought that through this way even young people and those
outside Japan could understand it. For me it is important to express the true heart of
Japan, which is my objective in composition.
While Kushida and Matsushita clearly aim to represent Japanese cultural

identity through their music, the expression of Japanese identity appears to be
somewhat less of a concern for Ito, Mashima, and Hoshina, and of little
concern at all to Amano. As a result, upon listening to most of Amano’s wind
band music it is difficult to identify the national identity of the composer. The
music is certainly expressive and interesting, but it does not necessarily sound
‘‘Japanese’’. In the case of Ito, Mashima, and Hoshina, some pieces sound quite
‘‘Japanese’’ while others do not. Finally, nearly all wind band pieces by Kushida
and Matsushita tend to be immediately recognizable as ‘‘Japanese’’ music. Why
is this so, and what does this aspect of the musical sound mean for performers
and listeners?
9.5 Transculturation and Hybridity in Japanese Band Music
Until recent decades it was assumed in the world of European classical music
that ‘‘someone who was Japanese simply could not play with any soul or fidelity
music that was composed by a European.’’11 This ignorant assumption also
applied to Japanese who dared attempt composing in western idioms as well,
9.5 Transculturation and Hybridity in Japanese Band Music 165
until it was effectively debunked by the emergence and recognition of undeni-

ably skilled and prolific Japanese composers, most notably Toru Takemitsu
and Akira Miyoshi. However, the question of how cultural identity is best
expressed by an Asian composer through music that is mostly traceable to
European tradition has proven to be a complicated one that baffles not only
the listening public, but musicologists and even the composers themselves. How
has this issue manifested itself in the sphere of Japanese wind band music?
Fence, flavor, phantasm. In his study of cultural identity among Japanese
musicians, Gordon Mathews identified ‘‘three formulations of Japaneseness
among Japanese musicians’’: (1) Fence, (2) Flavor, and (3) Phantasm.12 Math-
ews explained that this formulation considers ‘‘Japaneseness as fence, walling
off Japanese from the inroads of foreignness, Japaneseness as flavor to be
enjoyed by anyone in the world who chooses, and Japaneseness as phantasm:
an illusion obliterated by globalism, perhaps to be recreated anew.’’ This
metaphorical grouping of fence, flavor, and phantasm provides a useful frame-
work for consideration of how Japanese composers view their objectives in
composing for the wind band idiom (Fig. 9.5).
Due to the use of Western instruments, it would seem to be rather difficult for
any Japanese band composer to maintain a stringent ‘‘fence’’ perspective
toward Japanese wind band music, but there are many indications that the
Japanese band tradition has become so firmly entrenched and self-sufficient
that the artistic input of non-Japanese has gradually come to be viewed as less
relevant. As mentioned earlier, even the AJBA Director asserted that ‘‘bands
have become a Japanese thing,’’ and there seem to be ample data in support of
this position.
The distinction between Mathews’ categories of ‘‘flavor’’ and ‘‘phantasm’’
may be a rather interesting dichotomy to consider in relation to the approaches
of Japanese band composers. Some composers, most notably Isao Matsushita
and Tetsunosuke Kushida, consider it important to communicate ‘‘Japaneseness’’
FENCE FLAVOR PHANTASM

Retain & Western forms Expression of
preserve enhanced by cultural identity
Japanese Japanese unnecessary &
culture elements antiquated
-Matsushita
-Kushida
-Hoshina
-Mashima
-Ito
-Amano
Fig. 9.5 ‘‘Japaneseness’’ in

music of band composers
through their wind music pieces, which entails a kind of position that may be
located somewhere between ‘‘fence’’ and ‘‘flavour’’ (Fig. 9.5). Others, such as
Masamichi Amano seem to have very little interest in Japanese identity, and even
appear to question why this should be an issue in the contemporary world, which
places them more on the side of ‘‘phantasm’’. Most composers, such as Toshio
Mashima and Yasuhide Ito, appear to be located somewhere in the middle,
mostly within the ‘‘flavour’’ category, because they purposefully include some
references to Japanese music culture in many of their wind band pieces, but not
necessarily in large doses, and not even necessarily in all of their works.
Kyo-En Festival. Since 1998, an annual festival entitled Kyo-En has been
offered for new wind band works by Japanese composers, and across a decade
this event has helped to solidify the emergence of a tradition of Japanese wind
band music.13 Over the years, many new pieces by Japanese wind band compo-
sers have been premiered at this unique event. The 10th Kyo-En was held on
March 18, 2007 at the Tokyo Metropolitan Art Space Main Hall. Guest con-
ductors at this most recent event included American band directors Ray
E. Cramer (Indiana University) and Linda Moorhouse (Louisiana State Uni-
versity), while the featured soloist was the Concertmaster of the Tokyo Kosei
Wind Orchestra, saxophonist Nobuya Sugawa. The ‘‘21st Century Wind Music
Executive Committee’’ was credited as the event’s sponsor.14 This committee has
developed an ‘‘Organizational Philosophy’’ for the Kyo-En Festival as follows:
Recently we can see great development in the wind music of Japan. Pioneered after
European culture of the latter nineteen century, during the early Meiji era, wind band has
been evolving and improving for more than one hundred years. In particular, current
school band activities are quite remarkable. It has been said that Japan’s school band
clubs represent the world’s highest level in terms of quality and participation. We also see
that many wonderful municipal and amateur bands, sharing the adult joy of wind music,
are expanding in various ways every year. However, recognition and appreciation from
society in general is not high enough, and cooperation amongst composers, performers
and publishers is still inadequate. We are going to address the following concepts by
organizing ‘‘The Executive Committee for 21st Century Wind Music,’’ which shall
promote activities for the continued development of Japan’s wind music. In comparison
with societal standing in Europe, wind band is not as well recognized in Japan. We will
develop a unique wind music world comparable to that of orchestral and chamber music.
We understand that new Japanese composition, suitable to any tastes, is not well known
to the public. We are going to create and promote wind repertoire to be widely accepted
and performed beyond the category of so-called modern music. We plan to introduce to
the public not only new editions, but also lesser known music. We are going to encourage
communication between these three groups for excellent wind music to be better pre-
sented to the general public. The above considerations are the main points of 21st
Century Wind Music Executive Committee.15
Readers may notice that the English usage in this position statement is a bit
unusual, yet the meaning of its content is relatively clear. There are, however,
some interesting points that call for further discussion. Specifically, some claims
are questionable and appear to derive more from an agenda of promoting
Japanese band music than a desire to disseminate accurate information. For
example, while the assertion that ‘‘recognition and appreciation from society in
9.6 Themes from Kyo-En Series of Japanese Wind Compositions 167
general is not high enough, and cooperation amongst composers, performers

and publishers is still inadequate’’ cannot necessarily be disproven, it seems
difficult to identify any other nation in which such high levels of recognition and
cooperation favorable to wind bands have ever been so evident as in contem-
porary Japan. The claim that ‘‘In comparison with societal standing in Europe,
wind band is not as well recognized in Japan’’ is quite disputable if this is meant
to suggest that wind bands have not been as enthusiastically embraced in Japan
as in Europe. Kyo-En’s assertion that ‘‘We will develop a unique wind music
world comparable to that of orchestral and chamber music’’ seems to accurately
describe the situation that has already been developing in Japan across recent
decades. In other words, this ‘‘Organizational Philosophy’’ appears to advocate
the agenda of Japanese wind composers as well as assert the status quo as
though it is an attainable objective for the future rather than a contemporary
reality. The old adage ‘‘the grass is always greener’’ might appear to apply here,
as it could be concluded from this statement that many Japanese band compo-
sers feel inadequately supported despite enjoying what in international com-
parative perspective would appear to be among the very highest levels of
support for their work. However, as this study demonstrates, Japanese wind
band composers have good reason to feel ill-supported by both academia and
the educational system, yet it is this very absence of support from within
educational institutions that has led to many of their needs being met by the
private sector.16 Although a rather critical eye has been used in this probing
interpretation of its ‘‘Organizational Philosophy’’, this should not detract from
the undeniable fact that Kyo-En is serving a unique and important role in the
field of Japanese wind music composition.
9.6 Themes from Kyo-En Series of Japanese Wind Compositions
In their wind band compositions, Japanese composers featured in the series of

sound recordings produced by Kyo-En often make use of themes from Japanese
literature, such as memorable haiku by Basho (as in Toshio Mashima’s ‘‘Five
Okinawan Songs for Band’’), and famous stories by Kenji Miyazawa (e.g. wind
band works by composers Tomohiro Tatebe and Hirokazu Fukushima). Reli-
gious themes are also common, with images from Shinto (e.g. Tetsunosuke
Kushida’s ‘‘Foojin-Ryjin’’ and Yohsuke Fukuda’s ‘‘Kagura for Band’’), Bud-
dhism (Masamichi Amano’s ‘‘Yuga Gyoucyu gan-azuma’’ and Itaru Sakai’s
‘‘Great Buddha and Deer’’), and even Christianity (e.g. Yasuhide Ito’s ‘‘Litur-
gica Sinfonica,’’ Yo Goto’s ‘‘Lachrymae,’’ and Takamasa Sakai’s ‘‘Jeanne d’Arc
Poem for Wind Orchestra’’). Themes of national remembrance are also notable
in such pieces as Toshinari Iijima’s ‘‘August 6, 1945: Never Forget Hiroshima,’’
and prominent national symbols often serve as inspiration for programmatic
pieces (e.g. Koichi Sugimoto’s ‘‘Sakura March,’’ Toshiaki Matsuki’s ‘‘Mujin no
Ishi,’’ Yoshio Nakahashi’s ‘‘Cherry trees in the unconscious for symphonic
band,’’ Shin’ya Takahashi’s ‘‘Great Wave: 36 Views of Mt. Fuji,’’ and Toshio
Mashima’s compositions ‘‘The Glowing Sun Appeared on the Horizon,’’ ‘‘La
Danse du Phenix: Impression de Kyoto,’’ and ‘‘Les Trois Notes du Japon’’).17
The calendar date that serves as a title for Iijima’s piece is when an atomic
bomb ended the lives of thousands of Japanese civilians, while cherry tree and
cherry blossom images are deeply symbolic of Japanese identity, as is the
nation’s most famous landmark (of which the ‘‘36 views’’ refers to a renowned
series of paintings by Hokusai). Another piece entitled ‘‘Mujin no ishi’’ evokes
an image from the Kimigayo national anthem, while use of the image ‘‘sun on
the horizon’’ is also symbolic of the emperor and national identity as indicated
by Japan’s flag. A list of Kyo-En band pieces that are explicitly based on
melodies from local festivals would surely be too long to include here, for it
seems likely that the majority of Japanese composers have arranged such
melodies in at least some part of their band works. The Kyo-En festivals have
enabled a greater sense of community to develop among Japanese wind band
composers and have raised public awareness of their contributions in Japan,
and to some degree internationally as well.
Ethnomusicologist Stephen Blum has observed that
Perceptions of cultural distance can take many forms, and the only way to avoid false
consciousness of ‘cultural purity’ is to examine the transactions through which indivi-
duals and groups reproduce cultural knowledge. We begin to understand what people
mean by ‘culture’ when we hear them arguing about it – comparing one culture with
another, or with something they refuse to regard as culture.18
There are many lessons to learn from the life stories and perspectives of
Japanese wind band composers, but perhaps even more importantly, there is an
enormous amount of outstanding new music to enjoy, much of which has
received very little attention outside of Japan.19 As musicians and educators
learn more about the remarkable accomplishments of Japanese bands it is likely
that more of this new music will come to be heard and even loved far beyond the
borders of this distant archipelago.
Notes
1. See Hebert (2001b) for discussion of Yasuhide Ito’s life and works.
2. See Neidig (1978), p. 36.
3. Both the musical score (Adachi, 2002a) and professional recordings (Adachi, 2002b) are
publicly available for purchase.
4. Performances of each of these pieces were observed at all levels of the competition, and the
scores for each piece were also obtained and analysed by the author.
5. This contest, which was attended by the author, took place on July 31st, 2002.
6. Both the musical score and recordings are publicly available (Koh, 2002a, 2002b, track 6).
Judging by the composer’s name, Chang Su Koh is of Chinese ancestry, but since this is not
mentioned in the composer profile, it can be surmised that he is a long-term minority
resident of Japan. This point was eventually confirmed through discussions with Kushida
and other composers.
References 169
7. These statistics are taken from the popular Japanese language publication Band Journal,
February, 2006, p. 48.
8. These statistics are taken from Band Journal, February, 2007, p. 42.
9. See Band Journal, February, 2007, p. 42.
10. In addition to numerous informal discussions with various Japanese band directors, band
association leaders, and composers, several formal recorded interviews were conducted
by the author, providing the data for much of this chapter. As described in Hebert
(2001b), Hiroshi Hoshina was interviewed in the Chinatown of Kobe on December 6,
1998 following a telephone interview on November 27 of that year. Yasuhide Ito was
interviewed in Tokyo during a Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra recording session on March
3, 1999 following interactions by telephone and fax on March 16, 1998. Hajime Suzuki
was interviewed at the national headquarters of the Japan Salvation Army Bands in
Tokyo on January 5, 2007. Isao Matushita was interviewed in his office at Tokyo
University of the Arts and Music on January 9, 2007. Toshio Mashima was interviewed
at a restaurant in Tokyo on December 30, 2006. Masamichi Amano was interviewed at his
residence in Kunitachi on January 9, 2007. Toshio Akiyama was interviewed at his
residence in Omiya on January 5, 2007. Tetsunosuke Kushida was interviewed at a
restaurant in Kyoto on November 20, 2007.
11. See Gladwell (2007), p. 247.
12. See Mathews (2004), p. 336. Stephens has suggested that ‘‘ ‘Japanese-ness’ is not necessa-
rily limited to musical aspects such as modulation and instrumentation but also entails
ideologies of cultural and even intercultural identity, positioned against a dominant
Western viewpoint’’ (Stephens, 2008, p. 11). The historical context of this notion must
also be considered, as Groemer (2004) has shown that the concept of ‘‘Japanese music’’
did not even fully arise until the twentieth century. See Donahue (2002) for discussion of
how the construct ‘‘Japaneseness’’ has been systematically examined in various fields.
13. Detailed information regarding the first five Kyo-En festivals is available on a single
website (Kyo-En, n.d.).
14. See Yamaha Symphonic Band (n.d.).
15. See Kyo-En 21st Century Wind Music Executive Committee (n.d.).
16. This explanation may seem counterintuitive, but similar patterns have also been seen in
other areas of music in Japan. Similarly, Hideo Saito ironically saw great opportunity in
the fact that Japan lacked a tradition of conducting. (Akira Takeda, personal commu-
nication in Tokyo, 2007, June 15). Eventually, Saito’s students would include Seiji Ozawa
and many others (Saito, 1988). While the Ministry of Education policies have not
advocated for school band classes, they have strongly encouraged all schools to buy
instruments for school bands and other ensembles despite the fact that music teachers are
not officially trained in how to teach such instruments (Tanaka, 1998, pp. 226–227).
17. Traditional Japanese notions of spirituality and cultural identity are clearly emphasized
as themes in much of this music. See Matsunobu (2007) for related discussion.
18. See Blum (1994), p. 255.
19. Bravo Music is the most notable distributor of Japanese wind band sheet music, record-
ings, and videotapes for markets outside of Japan (http://www.bravomusicinc.com).
References
Adachi, T. (2002a). ‘Rapsodia’ for band. In Full scores: 2002 required pieces for All-Japan
Band Association competition. Tokyo: All-Japan Band Association.
Adachi, T. (2002b). ‘Rapsodia’ for band. In All Japan 2002 Band competition, volume 2,
Middle school division CD recording. Location: Recorded live at Fumon Hall. Victor
Entertainment, Inc., Japan.
Blum, S. (1994). Conclusion: Music in an age of cultural confrontation. In M. J. Kartomi & S.

Blum (Eds.), Music cultures in contact: Convergences and collisions (pp. 255–277). Basel:
Gordon and Breach.
Donahue, R. T. (2002). Guideposts for exploring Japaneseness. In R. T. Donahue (Ed.),
Exploring Japaneseness: On Japanese enactments of culture and consciousness (pp. 3–28).
Westport, CT: Greenwood Publishing.
Gladwell, M. (2007). Blink: The power of thinking without thinking. Boston: Back Bay Books.
Groemer, G. (2004). The rise of ‘Japanese music’. The World of Music, 46(2), 9–33.
Research, 37(1), 61–77.
Koh, C. S. (2002a). Lament for wind orchestra. In Full scores: 2002 required pieces for All-
Japan Band Association competition. Tokyo: All-Japan Band Association.
Koh, C. S. (2002b). Lament for wind orchestra. In All Japan 2002 band competition, volume 4,
Middle school division CD recording. Location: Recorded live at Fumon Hall. Victor
Entertainment, Inc., Japan.
Kyo-En. (n.d.). Kyo-En. Retrieved January 9, 2007, from http://www.ne.jp/asahi/21c/wind-1/
Kyo-En 21st Century Wind Music Executive Committee. (n.d.). Organizational philosophy.
Retrieved January 9, 2007, from http://www.asahi-net.or.jp/MJ2T-IIJM/english/Execu-
tive/21C02.htm
Mathews, G. (2004). Fence, flavor, and phantasm: Japanese musicians and the meaning of
‘Japaneseness.’ Japanese Studies, 24(3), 335–350.
Bresler (Ed.), International handbook of research in arts education (pp. 1425–1438). Dor-
drecht: Springer.
Neidig, K. L. (1978). School bands in Japan. The Instrumentalist, 33(3), 36.
Saito, H. (1988). The Saito conducting method (W. J. Toews, Trans.). Tokyo: Ongakuno
Tomosha and Min-On Concert Association.
Routledge.
Tanaka, K. (1998). Denshigakki Sangyoron [A history of the electronic musical instrument
industry]. Tokyo: Kobunsha.
Yamaha Symphonic Band. (n.d.). Concert reports. Retrieved January 9, 2007, from http://
www.yamaha.co.jp/english/corporation/symphonicband/report/index.html#070318
Chapter 10
Leadership and Duty in the Ensemble
鬼のいぬ間の洗濯
Onino inumano sentaku
‘‘While the cat is away the mice will play’’
Anthropologists and other social scientists have noted that advertising entails a
rich form of discourse that provides important cultural insights, and one tele-
vision commercial observed repeatedly in the early months of 2003 seems to
speak volumes regarding how school bands are perceived in Japan. The adver-
tisement was for a juku (tutoring program, or ‘‘cram school’’) called Shinken
Zemi. The purpose of such establishments is to serve as supplemental education
for Japanese middle and high school students, particularly in preparation for
stringent school entrance examinations. This brief advertisement begins with an
image of a young girl in her school uniform talking with her mother in a
domestic setting. The mother simply asks, ‘‘how is your homework going?,’’
but the daughter dodges the question with a hasty reply, ‘‘Please, mother! I have
my own way.’’ The mother gives an exasperated facial expression in response,
and the image immediately shifts to the next scene, where the daughter is seen
joining her girlfriends, all of whom are clad in school uniforms, holding wind
band instruments. They smile and enthusiastically greet her as she approaches
them. At this point, the name of the juku is displayed and a narrator quickly
explains the benefits of their program.
Previous research comparing the reception of advertising among adolescent
girls in Japan and USA has shown that ‘‘advertising may be seen as a cultural
force that continually shapes and reinforces the values around us.’’1 Although
the advertisement described here lasts for only about 20 s, it effectively demon-
strates some important trends and stereotypes regarding school band participa-
tion in Japan. All the school band members shown in the advertisement (a total
of four) are girls. The mother expresses interest in her daughter’s academic
work, but not in band. The daughter is determined to play in the band along
with her friends, and the brusque character of her retort to the mother’s
question suggests that she feels she has the situation under control, and it is
pointless to explain further to a mother who cannot possibly understand her
172 10 Leadership and Duty in the Ensemble
world. The narrator offers the juku as a kind of mediation for what is apparently
a common predicament, suggesting that their services will enable the mother to
ensure her daughter is succeeding in her academic work.
10.1 Parental Involvement
The role of parents within a Japanese school band differs significantly from
Western models of effective musical learning.2 The element of parental involve-
ment – emphasized as crucially important in such studies – appears to have
surprisingly little relevance in the case of Japanese school bands which tend to
mostly be led by students. For example, researchers have determined that the
influence of parents and older siblings provides the strongest source of motiva-
tion for joining ensembles in North American school music programs.3 Contra-
rily, Japanese students have frequently indicated that they joined band because
they realized in the first few weeks of school that band is the activity that most of
their friends were joining.
In the Ishikawa Middle School Band, parents play almost no part whatso-
ever, as all administrative decisions were made among students (with Kato
Sensei’s guidance) at the school, and individual practice is confined to the
school context rather than delegated to private homes where students and
parents reside. Still, parents are supportive in terms of the financial obligations
of band participation, as will be explained later in the ‘‘band budget’’ section.
During the entire fieldwork process, although parents enthusiastically attended
all public concerts, no parents were ever seen visiting school band rehearsals, and
the young band members appeared to never openly discuss their parents. Rather,
school band seems to be a domain where Japanese middle school students can act
as young adults in a world of their own. Particularly because students run the
organization and are not expected to practice their instruments at home, it is not
necessary for parents to play an active role in Japanese school bands. It is
interesting to note how completely different this model is from the Suzuki
Method – the only Japanese approach to music education to be popularized in
the West thus far – for which the relationship between child and mother is strongly
emphasized, student mentorship plays little or no role, and learning is highly
systematic and sequentially structured, typically entailing steps applied universally
to an entire cohort of students performing in unison.
10.2 Responsibilities of a School Music Teacher
The Japanese school music teacher’s schedule is extremely taxing, particularly

for those who are expected to conduct a school band club. When asked about
her typical week at the Ishikawa Middle School, Kato Sensei explained that she
is able to do very little outside of school-related obligations, as typically over
10.2 Responsibilities of a School Music Teacher 173
75 h/week are spent on classroom music teaching, faculty meetings, band

activities, and transportation to and from the Ishikawa Middle School. Other
research has similarly determined that Japanese teachers ‘‘must work extremely
long hours, often 70 h/week.’’4 Kato Sensei explained her class schedule as
follows:
Each day we offer six classes, and I teach in four out of the six class periods. So, I teach
first-year students for one class and also prepare their choir for the festival. I also teach
all the second-year students once a week and all the third-year students once a week,
then also during the elective hour.
Kato Sensei confirmed that all middle school students are required to take a
music course, but added that ‘‘those who have additional interest in music can
come during the elective time. For second-year students that is twice a week and
for third-years it is also twice a week. So, for example, third-year students can
come to the elective music course as well as the required course and receive 3 h
of music instruction per week.’’ She explained that the content of such academic
music classes in Japan is ‘‘pretty much the same anywhere you go. Chorus is
popular, and then recorder, then appreciation classes. The student clubs, which
begin at 4 o’clock, are an entirely different world.’’
Band schedule. The rehearsal schedule of a Japanese school band is often
quite unlike that of its American counterpart. On a typical week, the Ishikawa
Middle School Band rehearses for a total of 20.5 h, which questionnaires have
determined to be a rather typical schedule among award-winning Japanese
school bands. On each weekday, starting at 3:30 P.M., the students begin to
set-up the band room, warm-up individually, and tune their instruments. At
4 P.M. Kato Sensei usually arrives to direct the band, and the rehearsal con-
cludes at 6 P.M. On most Saturdays, the band typically rehearses for 8 h: from
10 A.M. to 6 P.M. But that is not all. At various points in the year, Sunday
rehearsals are also introduced, and the rehearsal time may exceed 25 h/week.
Prior to competitions and other important performances (during ‘‘vacation’’
time, when academic classes are not offered), Ishikawa Middle School band
members rehearsed 8 h/day, everyday, including both Saturday and Sunday.
In Japan, school band schedules are notorious for being particularly stren-
uous. Wilds wrote that in Japanese schools there are ‘‘a dozen or so holidays
during the regular school year, plus a month in summer, a week in winter and
2 week long vacations in spring; but I have seen many students in the schools
every day of the year including Sundays. This is regularly true for members of
the brass band.’’5 In Rebecca Fukuzawa’s study of a Japanese middle school,
she found that ‘‘The band meets every weekday for one and a half or 2 h or as
much as most sports clubs.’’6 Miyamoto’s survey of band directors in Saitama
indicated that 2–2.5 h/day may be a common middle school band rehearsal
schedule on weekdays.7
Several Ishikawa Middle School students admitted that the intense schedule
of band activities sometimes interfered with academic work, a concern also
raised by various Japanese music scholars. Dana, one of the rival drummers
(Chapter 7), told a long story about trying to prepare for an impending final
exam while she was on the ‘‘bullet train’’ en route to a distant band event, and
how she squeezed bits of study time in between breaks at the dress rehearsal.
One of the tubists described how she sometimes kept a sheet of study notes on
her music stand along with the sheet music, and that she would quickly look
them over during moments of inactivity in the rehearsal. She assured me that
she was very careful to keep these notes hidden from Kato Sensei. Still, these
accounts need to considered in context, as students also frequently reported
that their academic work was only rarely very challenging, that they had little
homework, and that intense studying was only necessary prior to final exams.
The Japanese academic year begins in April, ending in March of the follow-
ing year. Kato Sensei described the band schedule as ‘‘all year long, and from
April to July rehearsal for the competition is the main focus. Then, for our
school, we do some marching from August to October. And, from November to
March we do smaller ensembles, and practice for our concert, including jazz
and kayoukyoku (popular music arrangements).’’ She also explained that the
third-year students, in their final year of middle school, take a break from the
school band from November to March in order to focus on studying for the
high school entrance examinations, and then rejoin the group prior to the final
concert of the year. During one interview, Kato Sensei suggested that the
Japanese school band rehearsal schedule might seem excessive to outsiders.
She remarked, ‘‘Americans, when they see our rehearsal schedule for vacation
time, 9 A.M. to 6 or 7 P.M., they cannot imagine how we can possibly do that.
What do you think? Are we crazy?’’ Attempting to be diplomatic, I merely
replied, ‘‘Well, the point is you are able to do a great performance.’’
Band budget. Regarding Ishikawa Middle School band budget, Kato Sensei
explained that ‘‘a certain percentage of expenses are covered by the school.
From the budgets for music activities and band activities I am able to cover
certain necessary expenses, and then there is the annual club fee of 10,000 yen/
student. From this we are able to buy sheet music and other materials.’’ This
annual fee of 10,000 yen for an urban public middle school band amounts to less
than USA $10 per month, and is considerably less than what is charged for band
participation at elite private schools in the Tokyo area. Still, between all the
band members, the combined intake of annual fees totaled nearly USA $6,000.
Kato Sensei indicated that her school district paid the fees for membership,
and participation, in the AJBA competition. When asked about fund-raising
activities, Kato Sensei explained that she had found them to be ineffective in
Tokyo, and had decided not to pursue them with her ensemble. Upon calculat-
ing the figures provided, it seemed that these annual student fees (USA $6,000)
would still be insufficient to support the expenses of the Ishikawa Middle
School band program, so I inquired further. At this point, Kato Sensei men-
tioned that the PTA (Parent-Teacher Association) keeps an additional budget
and ‘‘is able to make payments approved from my requests’’ for instrument
repairs and equipment purchases. She explained that the total budget enables
her to buy approximately one large, expensive instrument per year (e.g. tuba,
10.3 Inkai Management and Instrument Choice 175
string bass, bassoon, timpani, etc.). Essentially, funding for the band came from
three sources: student annual fees, the school district, and the PTA. The total
intake from annual fees was inadequate to cover some of the largest expenses,
but the district and PTA could often be relied on to provide some additional
support for specific needs during most years.
10.3 Inkai Management and Instrument Choice
Instrument choice is often a complex issue for band directors, who seek to
negotiate a resolution between the personal interests of individual students and
the inherent requirements of a balanced instrumental ensemble. The issue of
instrument choice was examined through interviews with Kato Sensei and
several Ishikawa Middle School band members. Students explained that
‘‘The Sempai and Sensei decide which instrument fits each of the band mem-
bers.’’ This process occurs through use of inkai (closed-door committees), and
may serve as early enculturation to Japanese-style organizational management.
The inkai approach to management also seemed to exemplify the Japanese
educational theme of ‘‘secrets, stages, hierarchy of study,’’8 as only senior
students were permitted to participate in this secretive decision-making
process.
Kato Sensei explained, ‘‘The second year students determine what instru-
ments are needed. After about 10 days of having the new students try out many
different instruments, we have them take turns playing each one while the
second year students evaluate by writing comments on cards. Then we call a
meeting. I meet with the instrumental section leaders and determine how many
students they want on each part. We consider balance and other issues. Some-
times the first year students are shocked that the instrument they are assigned is
different from the one they had hoped for.’’
When asked, ‘‘Do you always fully explain the real reason [for the instrument
assignments]?’’, Kato Sensei admitted, ‘‘Sometimes we do . . . but . . .’’
Here, we both laughed. I agreed, ‘‘Yes, this also has happened in the
USA. Some American teachers give the real reason, about balance, but they
used to say things like, ‘your face is a little bit different . . . so maybe tuba would
be best’.’’
Kato Sensei explained further, ‘‘Yes, of course. Or else, the size of the body.
Well, sometimes we want to just do that, but instead we have them try making
sounds on each one first, go for three trials, and gradually reach the necessary
consensus. Gradually they grow to like the instrument. We find that after the
first year, they are no longer much interested in switching instruments.’’
Indeed, ample interview data demonstrated that the Japanese band members
grew to like the instrument chosen for them, even students who had originally
been strongly interested in a different instrument. According to Dana (one of
the rival drummers), ‘‘At first I didn’t want to do percussion and was surprised
when I was selected for drums. But eventually I realized when I looked at the
wind players who always play just one instrument, that percussion is great
because we play on a variety. It’s distinguished (medatsu) and cool (kakkoii),
so I’m glad I do percussion.’’ Surprisingly, interviews with the Ishikawa Middle
School students revealed that for many, gender stereotyping of band instru-
ments (e.g. flute is for girls, trombone is for boys) had never even been con-
sidered, a finding that appears to contrast sharply with most European and
American school bands.9
10.4 Moral Education
Music educationists have observed that ‘‘Arts educators in countries such as

Korea, Japan, and China, who have a foundation in Confucian philosophy,
place much greater emphasis on the moral and spiritual role of the arts than
their Western counterparts, their primary aim is to develop the character of
pupils, and to lay the foundations for a ‘virtuous and joyful life’.’’10 According
to Kitayama, music instruction has been largely subsumed within the field of
moral education throughout much of its history in Japanese schools.11 The
roots of Japanese moral education (doutoku kyoiku) may be traced to the
traditional lessons offered by temple schools to their surrounding communities
prior to the development of modern public school education. During the Meiji
period, Western music was linked with moral education in modernized schools
through the work of educational planners such as Isawa Shuji.12
Descriptions of moral education in Japanese schools are published in a
number of academic journals, most notably the Journal of Moral Education.
According to Japan’s 1989 national ‘‘Course of Study’’, the principles of moral
education require that middle school students are taught to ‘‘be aware of oneself
as a Japanese, and love one’s country, contribute to the advancement of the
country, and strive for the continuation of valuable traditions.’’13 In recent
decades, Japanese moral education has usually consisted of both a separate
subject area (roughly the equivalent of a ‘‘Citizenship’’ unit in American
schools), and as a theme integrated into various subjects throughout the school,
much like how concepts such as ‘‘critical thinking’’ and ‘‘respect for diversity’’
have been infused into American schools across recent decades. Some moral
lessons may take on even more subtle forms, for as Lamont has observed, ‘‘it is
not the overt curriculum, but rather the form of schooling, or the messages
transmitted as a result of its organization and practices, which is more power-
full.’’14 According to Luhmer, ‘‘the pendulum is swinging back toward a policy
advocating a stronger realization that moral education in Japan should foster
national pride and traditional values.’’15
Kato Sensei was asked about the role of moral education (doutoku kyoiku) in
the Ishikawa Middle School band. She described it as, ‘‘to value friendships,
and also to try one’s best to attain goals one has decided upon, to use effort, to
10.5 Isshoukenmei: Giving One’s All 177
not despair or give up.’’ Regarding the role of discipline, she explained that
band may ‘‘eliminate weakness in self.’’ She explained further:
Rehearsal is difficult, isn’t it? Every day, or almost every day, even on vacations from
9 A.M. to 5 P.M. It is terribly long hours, so normally one would want to quit, I guess. So,
for this kind of club activity, kids see the students ahead of them trying hard, and they
want to try their best too. Consequently, for three years they try very hard, so I think
they develop a powerful strength of resolve.
From Kato Sensei’s statement one may recognize that the objectives of the
school band rehearsals were often not exclusively to achieve musical excellence
with maximum efficiency. To the contrary, it is seen as important for Japanese
children to learn to endure long hours of struggle, in order to instill self-discipline.
Anthropologist Gerald LeTendre also observed a ‘‘preoccupation with endur-
ance’’ among Japanese middle school teachers who feel that ‘‘If young adolescents
could not persevere at difficult tasks, they would not become successful adults.’’16
He noted that ‘‘in middle school the concern transfers to functioning as part of a
chain of command. One learns to ‘endure’ hardships for the sake of the group and
to follow the orders of seniors.’’17 Observations of the Ishikawa Middle School
band provided further confirmation of LeTendre’s findings within the context of a
specific kind of extracurricular club, the wind band.
10.5 Isshoukenmei: Giving One’s All
The essence of Kato Sensei’s role in the school band was to guide students
toward achievement through their greatest efforts, a responsibility that surely
presents formidable challenges among the middle school aged population of
any nation. However, it is clear that Kato Sensei’s role in this regard is under-
stood and even appreciated by her students. Contents from the student-made
concert program for the Ishikawa Middle School band’s final performance of
the year provide an insightful glimpse into student perceptions of Kato Sensei,
sentiments also supported by interview data. An amusing section entitled
‘‘Sensei Shokai’’ (Introducing the Teacher) is found on page 16, at the end of
this concert program:
Sensei Shokai.
Kato Sensei owns two cats – she really loves cats! But if we play the ‘‘Hello Kitty
Theme’’ on the piano she gets mad at us. When we rehearse she can be very strict, but
she really cares about us. During large group rehearsals, when something funny
happens or she uses strange examples, she makes us laugh. Occasionally she threw
her baton at the clarinet section. But, the clarinet players also squirt out their spit, so it
is a fair tie. We really like that Sensei. Now, as always, we will try our very best for her.
Here, the students as a group have acknowledged that Kato Sensei can be rather
strict and does not always appreciate their immature antics, but they also mention
that she is fair, that she really cares about them, and that they ‘‘really like’’ her and
are determined to please her by doing their very best. Indeed, there were many
indications that the majority of band students both loved Kato Sensei and genu-
inely feared disappointing her, which seemed to suggest a mature understanding of
the complex demands associated with her multiple roles: nurturing teacher and
counsellor, yet simultaneously a serious and insistent bandmaster.
Research among Western conductors has demonstrated that leadership skills
are essential to success as a conductor, but that ‘‘there is no single correct style
of leadership.’’18 Cultural psychologists have asserted that ‘‘in Japan a leader
who is both demanding and personally caring is most effective regardless of the
task or the population examined.’’19 Kato Sensei’s leadership style entailed both
a demanding podium persona, and off-stage, a humorous and empathetic
personality. This irony was complex and difficult to make sense of early in the
fieldwork process. Yet, an ability to negotiate conflicting roles is considered by
some scholars to be essential for effective social interaction in Japan.20
Among Western high school band directors, Caimi found a relationship
between indicators of success as a performing ensemble and deficiencies in
directors’ concern for non-performance aspects of student development. Inter-
estingly, directors whose bands were less successful in competitions appeared to
exhibit more concern overall for their students’ well-being.21 However, this
description contrasts with Kato Sensei’s case, as she demonstrated equally
deep concern for the Ishikawa Middle School band members’ well-being and
for the organization’s success as a performing ensemble. In fact, Kato Sensei
expressed the wish that she could do even more to help her students. During one
interview she remarked that ‘‘All we have is 3 years with them. It passes by so
quickly. If we had 6 years with them, I am certain we could see their sound
change completely, but in 3 years there are always new faces coming in. It can be
saddening, as it is such a difficult challenge.’’22
When asked to describe her principal objectives for the band, and the main
points she wanted students to learn, Kato Sensei replied, ‘‘Ways to express
themselves on instruments is one, also to love music, how to cooperate and
make friends and take care of each other. So, of course they are to learn
technique, but not just that, I think it is a necessary strength of club activities
to learn about human development, and I wish for the end result.’’ Clearly,
cooperation was a fundamental goal of participation in the middle school band.
It was also clear that Kato Sensei modeled, through commitment to her job,
how students should embrace life by devoting all of oneself with a spirit of
‘‘ishoukenmei’’.
Notes
1. See Maynard (2002), p. 416. Also, see Rohlen and LeTendre (1998) for discussion of
rigorous preparation in ‘‘cram schools’’ for Japanese school entrance examinations.
2. See Hallam (2002) and McPherson (2001).
3. See Adderley, Kennedy, and Berz (2003).
References 179
4. See Wilds (1993), p. 65. Interestingly, previous research has determined that despite the
appearance of some statistics ‘‘the figure spent on actual academic class time’’ may be
similar between schools in Japan and the USA, yet in Japan, ‘‘the longer year may
contribute to greater achievement not because of more time spent on academic activities
but because of an emphasis on nonacademic activities that are deemed insignificant or
‘soft’ subjects in U.S. educational thought’’ (Saito, 2004, p. 89).
5. See Wilds (1993), p. 62.
6. Fukuzawa (1990), p. 367.
7. See Miyamoto (2003).
8. See DeCoker (1998) for description of these themes across various domains of educa-
tional activity in Japan.
9. See Conway (2000) for a recent discussion of research in this area.
10. Hargreaves, Marshall, and North (2003), p. 156.
11. This is discussed in Kitayama (1990).
12. See Eppstein (1985).
13. Iwawa (1992), p. 15.
14. Lamont (2002), p. 46.
15. Luhmer (1990), p. 179.
16. LeTendre (2000), p. 181.
17. LeTendre (1998), pp. 278–279. Also see Cave (2004).
18. Vallo (1990), p. 14.
19. Markus and Kitayama (1991), p. 241.
20. See Markus and Kitayama (1991).
21. Caimi (1981).
22. It should be noted that ethics and aesthetics have long been closely linked in Japanese
philosophical tradition, and are generally regarded to entail related kinds of values in
many sectors of contemporary Japanese society (Saito, 2007). This tendency is surely also
a factor in the close relationship between the aims of ‘‘moral education’’ and ‘‘music
education’’ throughout the history of school music programs in Japan.
References
Adderley, C., Kennedy, M., & Berz, W. (2003). ‘‘A home away from home’’: The world of the
high school music classroom. Journal of Research in Music Education, 51(3), 190–205.
Caimi, J. F. (1981). Relationships between motivational variables and selected criterion
measures of high school band directing success. Journal of Research in Music Education,
29, 183–198.
Cave, P. (2004). Bukatsudo: The educational role of Japanese school clubs. Journal of
Japanese Studies, 30(2), 383–415.
Conway, C. (2000). Gender and musical instrument choice: A phenomenological investiga-
tion. Bulletin of the Council for Research in Music Education, 146, 1–17.
DeCoker, G. (1998). Seven characteristics of a traditional Japanese approach to learning.
In J. Singleton (Ed.), Learning in likely places: Varieties of apprenticeship in Japan
(pp. 68–83). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
three Japanese junior high schools. Doctoral dissertation, Northwestern University.
Hallam, S. (2002). Musical motivation: Towards a model synthesizing the research. Music
Education Research, 4(2), 225–244.
Hargreaves, D. J., Marshall, N. A., & North, A. C. (2003). Music education in the twenty-first
century: A psychological perspective. British Journal of Music Education, 20(2), 147–163.
Iwawa, N. (1992). Postconventional reasoning and moral education in Japan. Journal of
Moral Education, 21(1), 3–16.
Kitayama, A. (1990). Historical changes in the objectives of Japanese music education.
Quarterly Journal of Music Teaching and Learning, 1(4), 32–37.
Lamont, A. (2002). Musical identities and the school environment. In R. A. R. MacDonald,
D. J. Hargreaves, & D. E. Miell (Eds.), Musical identities (pp. 41–59). Oxford: Oxford
University Press.
LeTendre, G. K. (1998). Shido: The concept of guidance. In T. Rohlen & G. LeTendre (Eds.),
Teaching and learning in Japan (pp. 275–294). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Luhmer, K. (1990). Moral education in Japan. Journal of Moral Education, 19(3).
Markus, H. R., & Kitayama, S. (1991). Culture and the self: Implications for cognition,
emotion, and motivation. Psychological Review, 98, 224–253.
Maynard, M. L. (2002). Projecting peer approval in advertising: Japan versus U.S. Seventeen
magazine. In R. T. Donahue (Ed.), Exploring Japaneseness: On Japanese enactments of
culture and consciousness (pp. 413–424). Westport, CT: Greenwood Publishing.
McPherson, G. E. (2001, August 23–26). Factors affecting the development of instrumental
performance skills during the beginning stages of development. In Proceedings of the 3rd
Asia-Pacific symposium for music education research (pp. 20–25). Nagoya: Aichi Arts
Centre.
Miyamoto, Y. (2003). Sukuurubando genjouto sonokaiketsusakuwo motomete: Kyouzai toshi-
teno suisougakkyokuno kenkyuto sonokeitoudzuke [The status quo of school bands and
search for a plan of resolution: Research on band instructional pieces and their organiza-
tion] (pp. 172–181). Unpublished manuscript.
In T. Rohlen & G. LeTendre (Eds.), Teaching and learning in Japan (pp. 369–376). Cam-
bridge: Cambridge University Press.
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RoutledgeFalmer.
Saito, Y. (2007). The moral dimension of Japanese aesthetics. Journal of Aesthetics and Art
Criticism, 65(1), 85–97.
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Applications of Research on Music Teaching and Learning, 9(1), 13–16.
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educational beliefs. Doctoral dissertation, University of Minnesota.
Chapter 11
Cooperative Learning and Mentorship in Band
習うより慣れよ
Narau yori nareyo
‘‘Practice makes perfect’’
After the group of trumpeters had spent about 10 min of independent ‘‘dood-
ling’’, Yumiko would walk to the front of the classroom, set down her sheet
music and a metronome and start pounding on the teacher’s podium to get the
attention of the others:
‘‘Bam, bam, bam . . . ka-bang!’’
‘‘Everyone, quiet down! It’s time to begin now,’’ she would call out.
It was time for the trumpet section of the Ishikawa Middle School Band to
start its paatore sectional rehearsals. Yumiko had quite an extraverted and
energetic personality, an athletic figure and a friendly smile. As an elder Sannensei
she certainly seemed more mature than the other members of her section, and in
the role of section leader Yumiko was extremely serious and demanding.
Upon obtaining attention and silence from her section, Yumiko would
immediately require her section members to take out a particular piece:
‘‘Swan Lake . . . get ready to play the second system on page 2’’. Yumiko was
consistently concerned with rhythm. She often used a metronome, and when a
metronome was not available she would establish a pulse by loudly banging her
hand, or a ruler, on a desk. Once a pulse was established, Yumiko would count
out the piece: ‘‘One, two, three.’’ As her section played through a particular part,
Yumiko would keep beating the pulse, while simultaneously listening to their
playing, and making immediate comments. Eventually she would stop the
players. ‘‘No, no! You need to tongue harder. And some of you don’t have
the rhythm right,’’ she would explain. Often Yumiko provided models for the
section by either singing their parts or playing them by herself on her trumpet.
In a nearby room, the Bucho (band club leader), who was also section leader
for the trombones, took an approach to leadership that differed from that used
by Yukiko. While she sometimes had her section play through parts all
together, the Bucho more often directed her players to work in pairs, and
182 11 Cooperative Learning and Mentorship in Band
would move from one dyad to another in order to monitor their progress.
Listening also played an important role in the Bucho’s paatore, to which she
often brought a portable CD player. On several occasions, I observed the
trombone section sitting in a circle, listening to recordings, and discussing the
sounds in detail. Sometimes these recordings were CDs of professional ensem-
bles performing the same music that they were currently struggling with, but
other times the recordings were of the trombone section’s own playing. The
Bucho was especially concerned with ensuring that the trombonists listened
carefully to one another, with particular attention to tone, pitch, blend and
balance.
11.1 Tutoring One’s Kohai
Cooperative learning and mentorship via peer tutoring are institutionalized

practices within Japanese school bands that appear to play a particularly
important role in terms of facilitating efficient and effective music learning.
According to an MENC publication, ‘‘Cooperative learning is the term for
instructional strategies in which students work together, sharing ideas, infor-
mation, and resources, as they progress toward identified goals.’’1 Kaplan and
Stauffer determined that a major impetus for this approach is the premise that
‘‘Through cooperative learning strategies, the focus of living and learning can
be shifted from glorification of the individual (competition) to the success of the
group (cooperation).’’2 Furthermore, the idealized objectives of cooperative
learning are highlighted by the notion that ‘‘the most successful cooperative
learning strategies are those in which academic and social goals are interactive.
Cooperative learning encourages mutual assistance and is dependent upon
students’ abilities to relate to one another as they work in small groups.’’3
Peer tutoring is a learning strategy closely associated with cooperative learn-
ing, and research has also demonstrated its effectiveness for musical studies.
Alexander and Dorow’s studies of peer tutoring reached the conclusion that
Significant benefits accrue for the tutee, especially when the tutor used approval
techniques. Also the activity of tutoring benefits the tutor as much as having a weekly
class lesson. Indications are that the tutoring benefits come from any or all of the
following: (a) opportunity to respond, (b) the provision of a model at each step of the
learning process, and (c) individuation of tasks and consequences.4
Peer tutoring may decrease competitive attitudes, helping students to ‘‘view

classmates as partners in, rather than as obstacles or threats to, future success.’’5
The theories of Lev Vygotsky, a Russian psychologist who taught at Moscow
State University,6 are particularly influential in the field of peer tutoring.7
Vygotsky found that learning proceeded most naturally through the guidance
of older peers who ‘‘scaffold’’ the learning process for the benefit of newcomers.
As introduced in the ‘‘rehearsal ritual’’ description (Chapter 4), the paatore
rehearsals take on various forms, depending upon the leadership style of each
11.2 Transmission Through Transcription 183
section leader. Some section leaders tend to ‘‘micro-manage’’ their Kohai, as

each plays individually through various challenging sections. Others prefer
unified rehearsals, guiding all members in playing together through problematic
sections of the sheet music. Still others take a more passive role, as an advisor
merely available for consultation, if any section members should have concerns.
Band members learn instruments directly from older peers within the paatore
sectional rehearsals. This mentorship process will be described in this chapter,
including how concepts are transmitted between generations of student band
members, how relationships, objectives, and practices are defined through
language use, and how student leadership is developed within this context.
11.2 Transmission Through Transcription
Along with their instruments and sheet music, Ishikawa Middle School band
members brought multi-colored pencils, pens, and highlighter markers to the
paatore, where they were extensively used for marking the sheet music. Many
students wrote fingerings and/or solfege above the individual notes in their
sheet music. Solfege was indicated through use of Japanese script (Fig. 11.1).
Ishikawa Middle School band members marked their most heavily-
rehearsed pieces with remarkable detail, writing personal reminders in various
colors within each measure of notation, to the point that each sheet would
resemble a work of abstract art. The content of such markings covered a broad
spectrum of concerns: reminders to follow the conductor and part leaders,
issues concerning the instrument, specific bodily movements, abstract spatial
metaphors, and aesthetic notions. When discussed with various Japanese band
directors, such techniques were determined to be rather common among such
bands.
Ironically, some of the methods transmitted through generations of students
within the Ishikawa Middle School band may also be relatively ineffective. The
method of tuning (described in the Section 4.1.1) appears to contradict many
Western approaches. Some experts have suggested that ensemble conductors
should ‘‘demand that [players] tune as quietly as possible,’’8 yet students played
their instruments at a high volume when tuning in the Japanese band. Other
procedures of the chuuningu ritual are discouraged by renowned Eastman Wind
Ensemble Director Donald Hunsberger, who disparagingly described the
stereotypical band director who ‘‘stands at the door with a tuner and says
‘high’ or ‘low’ as each student comes by and sounds a note. Ludicrous!’’9
Despite some possible shortcomings, cooperative learning and peer-tutoring
methods certainly have some important advantages, as institutionalized within
Fig. 11.1 Solfege in

Japanese Katakana script Do Re Mi Fa So La Ti Do
Japanese bands. Perhaps the sense of community that develops through this
process is more important than the effectiveness of specific learning strategies.
Students become socialized into the band culture through interactions with
their mentors, and as a sense of ‘‘ownership’’ and community develops, they
become more inspired to devote great efforts to the organization.
11.3 Learning the Lingo
On one occasion, just prior to the start of paatore (sectional rehearsal), several
Ishikawa Middle School trumpet players had gathered in a classroom and were
taking out their instruments and sheet music. A Sempai began explaining to
some younger students (her Kohai) about another student who had been having
a problem with her ‘‘kura’’. Then one of the Kohai interrupted to ask, ‘‘Huh?
What’s a kuda?’’. ‘‘Baka!’’ (Dummy!), the elder student playfully struck the
younger one on the forehead, adding a cartoonish ‘‘boing’’ sound for comic
effect. ‘‘It’s ku-ra! Kura’s for clarinet. What did you think it was?’’ ‘‘I dunno,’’
the Kohai replied, looking slightly embarrassed. Everyone laughed, and the
Sempai continued with her story. This example illustrates how younger students
learn to ‘‘talk the talk’’ of the school band directly from their Sempai. Many
Japanese do not know the meanings of the slang terms commonly used by
school band members, and would need to be explained that ‘‘paatore’’, ‘‘petto’’,
‘‘yufo’’, and ‘‘basuto’’ refer to sectional rehearsal, trumpet, euphonium, and
bass trombone, respectively. First year students in the Ishikawa Middle School
strived to quickly increase their levels of conversational competence in the
buraban zokugo (band slang) terminology, as this was perceived as indicative
of having achieved the status of full membership in the ensemble.
Keigo is the term used to indicate the formal Japanese language style used
within the Ishikawa Middle School band by younger students as they spoke
with older peers, particularly their section leaders, the Bucho, and Fukubu-
cho. Keigo may be illustrated by describing two ways that a student might
request a peer to make room for her to pass by: (1) in speaking to a younger
Kohai the English equivalent would be something like, ‘‘Can ya let me by for a
sec?’’ (‘‘Ne, chotto ii?’’); However, (2) in speaking to an older Sempai it would
more closely resemble, ‘‘Pardon me, but would you be so kind as to allow me
to pass?’’ (‘‘Ano, sumimasenga, shitsure itashimasu’’). While the two statements
may serve identical functions, they clearly represent quite different degrees of
formality. Institutionalized use of such contrasting levels of language served
to provide constant reinforcement of rank concepts within the band. The peer
tutoring system was institutionalized within the discourse of such hierarchical
structures in the Ishikawa Middle School band. Band members learned to
negotiate this system through the use of appropriate language among their
peers.
11.4 Instilling Perseverance 185
11.4 Instilling Perseverance
Two of the key concepts associated with paatore sectional rehearsals (and often
with gassou full band rehearsals as well) were ‘‘gambare’’ and ‘‘gamman’’.
Gambare is translated as ‘‘to try one’s best’’ or ‘‘to give great effort’’. And
gamman means ‘‘to endure’’ or ‘‘to persevere’’. Related to each of these terms
are some even stronger phrases, also often heard in band rehearsals, though
with slightly less frequency. ‘‘Isshoukenmei’’ means to devote all of oneself, or
to gambare to an inconceivable extent, even to the point of self-sacrifice.
Similarly, ‘‘kuro’’ is the term for pain, and ‘‘gokurosama’’ is a phrase commonly
exchanged at the end of performances that literally means ‘‘thank you for your
pains’’.10 Often at the end of especially lengthy rehearsals, particularly on
weekends and holidays, the Ishikawa Middle School band members called
out, ‘‘gokurosama’’ to each other as they prepared to leave the campus.
Intense effort and perseverance through repeated and repeated drilling are
highly valued practices both within school bands and in the field of Japanese
education in general. Education in Japan tends to associate achievement more
strongly with effort than ability.11 In her ethnography of Japanese middle
school students, Fukuzawa observed that ‘‘Academic success, they believe
derives primarily from efforts and only secondarily from ability. Therefore, it
is difficult to blame anyone but themselves if they do not succeed.’’12 Ethno-
musicologists have observed that musical talent is viewed quite differently in
various cultures,13 yet within Western school music programs, the notion of
‘‘talent’’ tends to be consistently reified.14 According to cultural psychologists,
among Japanese and in other societies that that generally emphasize interde-
pendent subjectivity, achievement is viewed ‘‘not as a fixed attribute that one
has a certain amount of, but instead as a product that can be produced by
individual effort in a given social context.’’15 The theme of perseverance, rather
than talent, also plays an important role in the image of Japanese professional
musicians who are admired among their fans especially for overcoming great
difficulties such as a complex childhood, academic challenges, or even disabil-
ities of various kinds.16
Within the Ishikawa Middle School band, group effort through relentless
repetition was viewed as a fundamental key to achievement.17 The school band
members and their director believed that musical progress could only be
attained through such intense drilling. ‘‘Nankaimo renshu shinakya’’ (must
practice over and over again) was the common phrase used by both Kato Sensei
and band members to explain how they improved their performance. Yet,
devotion to drilling itself was also embraced as a holistically admirable
human quality.18 During the final concert of the year, this value was demon-
strated as graduating students were honored within the concert programs
primarily for their ‘‘great efforts’’ and ‘‘determination’’. Observations of the
Japanese school band seem to challenge Dweck’s claim that in Asian educa-
tional cultures ‘‘the emphasis on malleable intelligence and effort is often not
accompanied by an emphasis on learning the enjoyment of challenge.’’19 To the

contrary, in the band context, students were encouraged to develop an insati-
able desire, even a love, of drilling musical phrases, again and again, toward the
impossible goal of perfection.
Drilling, while sometimes viewed in Western nations as a meaningless or
even miserable exercise, may actually offer unparalleled benefits, which seems
to be widely understood among Japanese school bands. In defense of repetitive
practice as a learning strategy, Vernon Howard has offered a ‘‘plea for the
dignity of drill.’’20 Howard observed that during intense drill sessions, learners
may become ‘‘smoothly coordinated, absorbed, and focused through the repeti-
tions in an almost trance-like way.’’21 He concluded that repetitive drills are
‘‘one of the most powerful, intelligent, imaginative means of learning at our
disposal, enabling us to master the facilities required by advanced skills. By way
of drill we not only learn by example and instruction, but also become examples
of the very things we learn. One might even think of this as the existential
predicament of practicing anything at all: you are what you learn to do routi-
nely.’’22 Through participation in the band, under the careful supervision of
their Sempai mentors, Ishikawa Middle School band members learned a broad
spectrum of behaviors deemed appropriate for the band context.
11.5 Cooperative Mentorship and Autonomy
Like most competitive school bands in Japan, the Ishikawa Middle School band
consisted mostly of girls. In fact, the band had a 95% female membership,
a ratio that is not unusual among such ensembles. During most rehearsals, only
2 boys were present among the 65–70 girls (depending upon how many girls
were absent), which meant that the majority of paatore actually consisted of
interactions managed entirely by young female adolescents.23 Previous research
has suggested that during the middle school years, girls face a number of
significant challenges in terms of self-identity and social interaction, as each
becomes confronted with the inevitability of an impending adulthood. In her
insightful study of American girls, psychologist Mary Pipher concluded that
during adolescence her subjects experienced ‘‘pressure to split into true and false
selves . . . the pressure comes not from parents but from the culture. Adoles-
cence is when girls experience social pressure to put aside their authentic selves
and to display only a small portion of their gifts.’’24 She also noted that ‘‘Girls
are socialized to look to the world for praise and rewards, and this keeps them
other-oriented and reactive.’’25
While Pipher concluded that such stifling pressures arise ‘‘from the culture,’’
findings from the present study suggest that this process cannot be viewed as a
uniquely American phenomenon, and there may be few cultures immune to this
problem. Many Japanese schoolgirls also face similar challenges, the severity of
which may even exceed that typical of the United States. However, the school
11.5 Cooperative Mentorship and Autonomy 187
band offered a domain where girls from the Ishikawa Middle School could
cooperate together, strive to create beauty, and enjoy a relatively strong sense of
autonomy as leaders, once they attained rank within the organization. After
completing her first year of membership, each girl automatically attained a
position of leadership, as Sempai to any Kohai who would then enter as a first-
year student. For many, this was the first opportunity in their lives to be placed
in such a position of leadership. Due to demographic shifts in contemporary
Japan, most students had either no siblings, or merely one (who might be
younger or older, male or female). Within Japanese schools, grade levels tend
to be strictly separated, and elementary schools require comparatively little
from students in terms of leadership skills.26 Hence, very few band members
had ever previously experienced the responsibility of mentoring a younger girl.
It was quite evident that this institutionalized system of mentorship pro-
duced relationships that were meaningful to the Ishikawa Middle School band
members. The program from the band’s final concert of the academic year
‘‘22nd Annual Regular Concert’’ provides important insights into the signifi-
cance of these relationships. Page 12 of the concert program contains 21 squares
(2 inches by 2 inches in diameter), corresponding to each of the 21 graduating
third-year students. At the top of each square, the name of one graduating
student is written, followed by the title ‘‘Sempai’’ (senior/elder) and his or her
instrumental part. This information is followed by a few short sentences
describing something the younger students will remember about her or him.
The material in these boxes is particularly illustrative of the kinds of mentoring
relationships that had developed between the older and younger students in the
Ishikawa Middle School band. Their content is listed in full below, translated
with an attempt to maintain the subtleties of the language used by these
Japanese middle school students:
(1) Percussion. I will try to remember the things she said to me forever, as I
respect this Sempai very much. An excellent snare drummer.
(2) Percussion. She speaks very kindly and always gives great advice. She is very
skilled at timpani and other large drums.
(3) Trombone. A great speaker, always gives so much to support our section.
Very skilled at bass trombone.
(4) Flute. A very hardworking and quite energetic Sempai. Very skilled at
playing both flute and piccolo.
(5) Flute. Beautiful sound. Played a really awesome solo at the competition.
(6) Horn. Played an excellent solo at the competition. She became somebody
we could really count on.
(7) Horn. Skilled at playing horn, a very funny Sempai. Seems to be a part of
the absent-minded club.
(8) Clarinet. Skilled at both clarinet and marching, a model for everybody.
Incredibly fast at tonguing.
(9) Clarinet. Guided everyone as the part leader. Became someone we could
really rely on.
(10) Euphonium. Very courageous and especially hardworking on the eupho-

nium solo at the competition. Made some funny little errors.
(11) Tuba. Very eager to rehearse, a Sempai who is kind to everyone. Very
calmly took the role of part leader and made us proper.
(12) Clarinet. Sempai who is kind and carefree, willing to teach anything.
(13) Oboe. Sempai who on any piece, on any instrument, ended beautifully.
(14) Trumpet. As part leader, she tried her very best for us. A truly funny
Sempai.
(15) Trumpet. Always inspiring our section to do even better, a funny Sempai.
(16) Bassoon. Very skilled at teaching instruments and marching. Soo-pah cool
Sempai.
(17) Baritone Saxophone. Sempai who absolutely gave her best. Sometimes a
bit of an airhead. On the low tones, really honk-honked.
(18) Tenor saxophone. Sempai who is always light-spirited, kind, and thought-
ful of us Kohai. Her solo was a marvelous flourish.
(19) Alto Saxophone. She has a ‘‘Diehard!’’ aura. Very skilled at saxophone.
(20) Trombone. Always a bit absent-minded, but when she decides – Zoom! –
she really decides.
(21) Trombone. Hates to be called by a nickname. (Ha!) Excellent at trombone,
but a bit (only a bit?) strange.
The material in these 21 boxes from the concert program provides a sense of
the kinds of mentorship that develop in a Japanese school band, yet it also
reminds one of the diverse personalities and levels of maturity among these
middle school students.
Within the interviews, most Ishikawa Middle School band members expressed
that through the process of mentoring a younger peer, they had gained new
insights into ‘‘life’’, ‘‘learning’’ and other important lessons. It was certainly clear
from observing differences between first-year and third-year students that many
had developed strong leadership skills over this 3-year period, in which more
hours were devoted to band than any other activity besides sleep. The student-
made decorations hanging on all the doors and walls of the band room, and even
the monthly ritual of cleaning the band room as a group, reinforced the notion of
the band room as a student-managed domain.
Sociologist Robert Faulkner has described a remarkably similar rehearsal
process called ‘‘shedding’’ among jazz musicians, as follows:
Shedding is what you do when you learn repertoire, learn songs, play musical lines over
and over again, get scales and arpeggios under your fingers, imitate musical lines played
by others, and explore your instrument inside and out in search of your own sound and
style. You reflect on your own membership in the local community of players, on their
distinctive strengths and assessed weaknesses, on their growth (or lack of it) as musi-
cians, and on your own musical career development (or lack of it). And you think about
your place in still another group. As you practice, you think about your own musical
heroes, their sound, their style, their technical facility, the tunes they play or played,
their recordings of the material you are working on at the moment, how they did it, and
whether you can learn from them, and if so, why, and if not, why not.27
Notes 189
While Japanese school band members may not seek the same kind of indi-
vidualistic expression commonly associated with jazz, similar characteristics are
evident in the way that a sense of community is constructed through the
rehearsal process. The sense of unity (danketsu) formed through this coopera-
tive process enabled Ishikawa Middle School band members to maintain a
collective sense of ownership over the ensemble. Despite the fact that Kato
Sensei regularly conducted the ensemble for gassou, from the perspective of the
student members, it clearly was still ‘‘our band’’, led by the Bucho, with
assistance from the Fukubucho, and Kato Sensei served more as a kind of
‘‘Featured Artist’’. There seem to be many educational advantages to the sense
of cooperation and autonomy that is effectively nurtured among students
within this model.
To some extent, the high levels of performing achievement reported among
Japanese school bands must surely be attributed to their intense efforts within
such cooperative contexts. This case epitomizes the relationship between the
establishment of a tradition of cooperative activity and the development of
notions of community. Wink has explicitly identified this relationship, writing
that ‘‘when students and teachers connect Vygotsky’s principles and practices,
the result is the construction of community.’’28 Indeed, the process of
community-building is intertwined with the model of transmission via peer
tutoring associated with Vygotsky, and clearly manifested within the case of
Japanese school band sectional rehearsals. Through transmission of cultural
practices, a sense of tradition and community is formed. Hence, one can speak
of the ‘‘community’’ of a Japanese school band.
Notes
1. See Kaplan and Stauffer (1994), p. 1.

4. See Alexander and Dorow (1983), p. 46.
5. See Austin and Vispoel (1998), p. 42.
6. Moscow State University is regarded as the Russian Federation’s leading comprehensive
research university. I taught music there for autumn semester 2004, and learned about
Vygotsky’s work while in residence.
7. See Vygotsky (1978).
8. Barber (2003), p. 24.
9. See Williamson and Neidig (1998), p. 33 for this quotation. Also, according to former
University of Michigan Director of Bands H. Robert Reynolds, ‘‘extensive formal tuning
can even be harmful, because so many directors and students then think the band is ‘in
tune’ – like a piano . . .. The pitch should be given by a person who can produce the same
pitch everyday. (Reference to a tuner is OK, but the sound of an electronic device is not
musical). Up through the high school level, I think the students should first sing the note
they are going to play, so the sound goes inside the head, promoting the desired internal
awareness of pitch . . . as opposed to the external imposition of it’’ (Williamson and Neidig,
1998, p. 65).
10. Note that unlike the previous examples of slang, this is a common formulaic expression,
and one should be careful not to ‘‘read too much’’ into its literal translation. Nevertheless,
the connotations are fascinating. See Miller (2004) for extensive discussion of the deve-
lopment and use of specialized slang terminology among Japanese schoolgirls.
11. See Rohlen and LeTendre (1998).
12. See Fukuzawa (1990), p. 408.
13. See Stock (2003), p. 140.
14. See Sloboda and Davidson (1996).
15. Markus and Kitayama (1991), p. 244.
16. Yano (2002), p. 52.
17. Such attention to repetition of small phrases also resembles Japanese art classrooms,
where ‘‘the most striking figure was the amount of time devoted to making a single image
or object’’ (Wilds, 1993, p. 187).
18. In her ethnographic studies of Japanese youth, White also noted that ‘‘Japanese folk
psychology is based on pragmatic realism, such as the ideal of the triumph of effort over
obstacles’’ (White, 1993, p. 23).
19. Dweck (1999), p. 150.
20. Howard (1991), p. 81.
21. Howard (1991), p. 83.
22. Howard (1991), p. 87.
23. Gender issues are discussed in depth in Chapter 15.
24. Pipher (1994), p. 8.
25. Pipher (1994), p. 311.
26. LeTendre (2000).
27. Faulkner (2006), p. 94.
28. Wink (2002), p. 118.
References
Alexander, L., & Dorow, L. G. (1983). Peer tutoring effects on the music performance of
tutors and tutees in beginning band classes. Journal of Research in Music Education, 31(1),
33–47.
Austin, J. R., & Vispoel, W. P. (1998). How American adolescents interpret success and failure
in classroom music: Relationships among attributional beliefs, self-concept and achieve-
ment. Psychology of Music, 26, 26–45.
Barber, C. F. (2003). Conductors in rehearsal. In J. A. Bowen (Ed.), The Cambridge compa-
nion to conducting (pp. 17–27). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Dweck, C. S. (1999). Self-theories: Their role in motivation, personality, and development.
Philadelphia: Taylor & Francis.
Faulkner, R. R. (2006). Shedding culture. In H. S. Becker, R. R. Faulkner, & B. Kirshenblatt-
Gimblett (Eds.), Art from start to finish: Jazz, painting, writing, and other improvisations
(pp. 91–117). Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
three Japanese junior high schools. Doctoral dissertation, Northwestern University (AAT
9031903).
Howard, V. A. (1991). And practice drives me mad; or, the drudgery of drill. Harvard
Educational Review, 61(1), 80–87.
Kaplan, P. R., & Stauffer, S. L. (1994). Cooperative learning in music. Reston, VA: MENC.
References 191
Markus, H. R., & Kitayama, S. (1991). Culture and the self: Implications for cognition,
emotion, and motivation. Psychological Review, 98, 224–253.
Miller, L. (2004). Those naughty teenage girls: Japanese kogals, slang, and media assessments.
Journal of Linguistic Anthropology, 14(2), 225–247.
Pipher, M. (1994). Reviving Ophelia: Saving the selves of adolescent girls. New York: Ballan-
tine Books.
In T. Rohlen & G. LeTendre (Eds.), Teaching and learning in Japan (pp. 369–376).
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Sloboda, J., & Davidson, J. (1996). The young performing musician. In I. Deliege &
J. Sloboda (Eds.), Musical beginnings: Origins and development of musical competence
(pp. 171–190). Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Stock, J. P. J. (2003). Music education: Perspectives from current ethnomusicology. British
Journal of Music Education, 20(2), 135–145.
Vygotsky, L. S. (1978). Mind in society: The development of higher order psychological
processes. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
White, M. (1993). The material child: Coming of age in Japan and America. Berkeley:
educational beliefs. Doctoral dissertation, University of Minnesota (AAT 9331955).
Williamson, J. E., & Neidig, K. L. (1998). Rehearsing the band. Cloudcroft, NM: Neidig
Services.
Wink, J. (2002). A vision of Vygotsky. Boston: Allyn & Bacon.
Yano, C. R. (2002). Tears of longing: Nostalgia and the nation in Japanese popular song.
Cambridge, MA: Harvard East Asia Monographs.
Chapter 12
Organizational Training of the Japanese Band
Director
鶏口となるも牛後となるなかれ
Keikouto narumo gyougoto narunakare
‘‘Better to be the head of a dog than the tail of a lion’’
The lens of this narrative is now widened in Chapter 12 to demonstrate how a

sense of community is formed and maintained among participants in the
Japanese school band system. The process by which community is constructed
is both multi-faceted and complex, requiring discussion of its components from
various angles.1 I will explore the community of band directors, describing how
Kato Sensei and her school band director colleagues learned to direct wind
bands (through a form of community apprenticeship, outside formal educa-
tional settings), and demonstrating the social structures that have necessitated
the development of strong band associations in Japan. This chapter also iden-
tifies the role of relevant organizations, determining fundamental objectives,
from mission statements and philosophical writings that serve to unite Japan’s
band director community.
The process by which Japanese teachers learn to direct school bands is
particularly revealing of practices that would support the notion of these
bands as a form of community-based music. For the most part, Japanese
teachers learn band pedagogy through informal occupational training pro-
grams offered through community organizations, namely band associations
and music industry affiliates. Cohen observed that ‘‘since structure determines
neither behaviour nor attitude it follows that members of different communities
may use similar structures, yet think about them in quite different ways.’’2 Thus,
band organizations in the USA and Japan may exemplify communities that are
structurally similar, yet quite different in terms of meanings and roles in the
educational and band fields. An important function of Japanese band organi-
zations is to facilitate the training of band directors who otherwise would not
obtain the skills necessary for their positions. In the USA and some other
nations this task is considered a responsibility of university music education
departments.
194 12 Organizational Training of the Japanese Band Director
12.1 Kato Sensei’s Occupational Training
Kato Sensei’s training provides key insights into this process. At the time of this
study, Kato Sensei was 44 years old, a mid-career public middle school music
teacher who had received her higher education at Nihon University, Japan’s
largest tertiary institution. Nihon University is a private institution with several
campuses in the greater Tokyo area. Kato Sensei studied in the music education
program at the Ekoda campus, and graduated with a Bachelor of Arts degree 22
years prior (at the age of 22). Within the music education program, her areas of
emphasis were voice and piano, which are the two most popular fields in
Japanese music education programs. No methods courses of relevance to
band instruments were included in her training at the university. A single
conducting methods class was offered, lasting for 1 year. The conducting course
focused on directing orchestral and choral music, rather than wind band con-
ducting. Upon graduation, Kato Sensei passed the teacher certification exam
and was hired by a public school as the music teacher, but upon starting the job
she discovered that she would be expected to conduct the school band club.
Kato Sensei explained, ‘‘at first I really had no idea how to rehearse a group,
even how to tune. I didn’t know about tuning problems because I had always
played piano as my main instrument, and then some percussion. Pitch was not
an issue before for me, so I did not understand it very well at the time. For 1 year
I was very challenged.’’ Kato Sensei expressed that her educational training had
left her ill-prepared for problems faced in her actual career. She explained, ‘‘at
my university the conducting course was a basic general conducting methods
class, rather than one for band. It emphasized chorus, and we had no opportu-
nities at all to experience conducting a band.’’ According to Kato Sensei,
Japanese university music education programs have continued to use a similar
curriculum.
Although Kato Sensei indicated a lack of band-related studies in her own
university training, it was clear from rehearsal observations (and from the
band’s impressive competition record) that she had managed to become a fine
band conductor. According to Kato Sensei, she learned most of her band
conducting techniques after being hired as a school teacher. In describing how
she coped initially with such challenges, Kato Sensei explained the following:
There are band specialist instructors. They can be called to assist with the band, so
sometimes once a week or twice a month we ask them to come and give them some
payment, and then they come and provide their services. Many get their specialists from
Yamaha . . . When clinicians came I would carefully watch their conducting method the
entire time: watch, listen, remember, and see how the students changed. Then I could
determine how particular instructions would produce specific positive results, and see
clearly how things could improve through various means.
From discussions with other band directors, as well as Yamaha band clin-
icians, it became clear that this practice of hiring band specialists to assist with
new teachers was quite common. Kato Sensei also indicated that workshops
12.1 Kato Sensei’s Occupational Training 195
and clinics offered by local music teacher and band organizations, particularly
the Tokyo Middle School Band Association and the Yamaha Corporation,
provided essential opportunities for learning about band methods and
repertoire.
When directly asked what she thought of the training of band directors in
Japanese tertiary music education programs, Kato Sensei replied, ‘‘It is com-
pletely bad.’’ Discussions with numerous school band directors tended to reveal
similar opinions, however these may only appropriately be considered in con-
text, as the training of band directors is considered ancillary to the mission of
university music education programs in Japan. Previous studies by non-
Japanese scholars have tended to show that improvements are much needed
in the area of teacher education.3
The legitimacy of Kato Sensei’s descriptions was triangulated through docu-
ment analysis, observations, and interviews. Each band director and music
education professor I talked with agreed that school bands play little or no
role in music education programs within Japanese conservatories and univer-
sities. Within Japan’s largest university music education department, the instru-
mental methods courses offered to prospective music teachers were for piano,
recorder, and pianica (a plastic device). Only one conducting class was offered,
and no courses in the fields of band repertoire, rehearsal techniques, or relevant
instrumental methods. When asked the reasons for this curriculum, two expla-
nations were offered by school band directors and music education professors.
The most obvious reason was the view of ‘‘music education’’ taken by Japanese
university music education departments,4 which tend to define music education
rather narrowly as formal instruction within academic music classes. According
to this definition, school bands and any other music activities outside the
context of the school music class (e.g. community music) may be dismissed as
peripheral to the field. Another explanation offered was that many Japanese
music professors view wind band with less esteem than other ensembles asso-
ciated with Western art music, an issue also encountered in previous research on
Japanese band composers.5 According to Kato Sensei’s experience, many Japa-
nese university professors ‘‘think that classical orchestra and opera are number
one, and that band is really an activity far beneath them.’’ Kato Sensei explained
the views of Japanese music professors as follows:
[They] consider band to be inferior [to orchestra, opera, and chamber music]. Gener-
ally, they seem to think that the music played by bands is outside of their territory. It
seems they think that Western classical music is the best versus anything else. Recently
they are starting to consider opening to jazz and popular music, I think . . . yes, I really
think Japan is still terribly closed in this way. At university I wanted to know much
more about not only band but other kinds of music too.
It cannot be denied that for the past 50 years, the major tertiary music
programs in Japan have tended to emphasize historical Western European art
music of the Classical and Romantic periods, particularly by Germanic com-
posers. Other musical styles, including twentieth century art music, jazz, and
popular music, have received considerably less attention, although a few insti-
tutions (such as Tokyo’s ‘‘Geidai’’) have consistently offered strong hogaku
programs. Some of Kato Sensei’s statements regarding the esteem associated
with band versus other ensembles, and the role of jazz and popular styles in
education, may resemble observations made of most Western music institutions
during much of the twentieth century. However, the frustration she expressed
regarding the relevance of training in collegiate music education programs for
school band conducting seems relatively less familiar.6
12.2 The Teacher Transfer System
Kato Sensei had explained that her training as a band conductor occurred
mostly after university graduation, through her network of contacts in the
band community. This might seem a rather straightforward process, as one
could conceivably develop such contacts through the local music store and
other resources in the neighborhood of the school, where the band director
presumably resides. However, there is another particularly unusual factor in
this educational model that has necessitated the development of a close-knit,
organized community of band directors: the teacher rotation system. In Tokyo,
as well as many other parts of Japan, schoolteachers are hired for periods of 4 to
7 years to work at a particular school, and are then transferred to a new school
by the school district administration. While private school teachers may spend
their entire career at a single school, most public school teachers will have
worked for over five different schools by the time they near retirement age.
The Tokyo school district teacher transfer system is more inflexible than most in
Japan. Within Tokyo, the transfer can be as distant as 90 min by train between
the teacher’s residence and the school campus.
Kato Sensei explained, ‘‘In my case, after teaching for 4 years at one school,
then at the second school for 7 years, then the third school for 6 years. Now I am
on school number four, and always if there was a school band I was expected to
teach it. So, it is quite unusual for a school band program to have the chance to
develop under a single conductor for a long period of time.’’ It was difficult to
understand the logic of such a system, but as I spoke with professors in the
educational field there appeared to be a consensus of opinion that this policy
existed to maintain control over teachers in order to decrease corruption and
organized resistance. The history of friction between Japan’s teachers union
and the Ministry of Education is well-documented.7 While there appear to be no
similar models in Western educational systems, remarkable parallels may be
seen with both military organizations and Japanese indigenous management
traditions. In a stringent analysis of the historical antecedents of contemporary
Japanese organizational structures, Kasaya concluded that despite pervasive
Western influence, Japanese bureaucracies have tended to retain many features
characteristic of pre-Meiji organizations.8 Similarly, it is noteworthy that this
12.3 Relevant Institutions and Organizations 197
system of teacher rotation in the contemporary Japanese school system, which

appears to have no significant counterparts in the West, bears a striking
resemblance to the traditional management strategies of the shoguns. Recog-
nizing that if a talented samurai were to gain a strong foothold within a
community he might develop loyalties sufficient to lead a peasant rebellion,
powerful shoguns made a policy of regularly rotating their finest samurai
between distant outposts. Despite such interpretations, it is also worth noting
that one positive aspect of this system may be that it may help lessen the
development of entrenched inequalities among schools, which is a severe pro-
blem in many nations, including the United States. With continuous rotation, it
becomes less likely that particular schools would end up with all the best
teachers or the most resources. The teacher-rotation system would tend to
isolate band directors from their profession, were it not for the sense of com-
munity provided by Japanese band organizations.
12.3 Relevant Institutions and Organizations
Detailed discussion of the roles of relevant institutions and organizations is

absent from previous research on Japanese bands. When asked about the
relevance of the All-Japan Band Association for school band directors, Kato
Sensei replied, ‘‘Compared with other organizations, only the AJBA has a
strong and deep influence on school bands.’’ However, examination of AJBA
documents, and discussion with its Director, revealed that the AJBA focuses its
activities exclusively on managing the national band competition. The competi-
tion alone seems insufficient to explain the achievements of Japanese school
bands, and as this study progressed, the existence of a plethora of other relevant
organizations was revealed. In order to better understand the significance of
such institutions for school band directors, I discussed the topic extensively with
Kato Sensei, surveyed other middle school band directors, collected key docu-
ments from the organizations, and sought interviews with their officials. Such
organizations include the Japan Academic Society for Music Education, Japan
Society for Music Education, Japan Bandmasters Association and Asia-Pacific
Bandmasters Association. Other institutions determined to be highly relevant
include various professional media, the Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra, and the
Yamaha Corporation, which will be examined in the next chapter.
Japan Academic Society for Music Education (JASME). Music education
professors tend to participate primarily in this organization. The following
mission statement (Fig. 12.1) is translated from its internet homepage.9
The Japan Academic Society for Music Education (also known as Japanese
Music Education Society) emphasizes ‘‘research’’ and most of its members are
university professors. School bands are addressed within one section of a single
issue from the past 20 years of this society’s journal. JASME is held in great
esteem among Japanese music education professors, yet it is relatively unknown
ed according to our general

rules to be as follows: Contribution through the holding of research conferences, planning of
international exchange, and promotion of music education studies.
We are engaged in various business and activities in order to accomplish these
objectives:
(1) Public presentation of scholarly research and/or symposiums.
(2) Japanese Journal of Music Education
Research] and other documents.
(3) Collection and/or investigation of research materials.
(4) Exchange of foreign materials and publications.
(5) Various other activities deemed necessary for accomplishing our purpose.
Fig. 12.1 Japan academic society for music education
outside of Japan. In recent years, its relevance has been called into question by
many practicing school music teachers in Japan, and alternative music educa-
tion organizations have arisen. When asked what relation JASME had to
school band conducting, Kato Sensei replied that Japanese music teachers are
‘‘expected to direct bands for free, and it is not considered the main part of their
job. So, music education professors consider classroom teaching to be their area
of concern, and that is what they study and write about. I think there is actually
very little research on school bands in Japan.’’10 When asked what kinds of
topics she would like to see researched, Kato Sensei replied, ‘‘I think we need to
know more about how to accomplish more on the instruments within the
limited amount of time available. And then, I would like to learn more about
resonant tone and harmony: how do you produce it and obtain a resonant
sound, and that kind of thing. I often anguish over that during the band
competitions, and by that time it is too late.’’ Clearly, Kato Sensei recognized
the contribution that band research could provide for school band directors,
but felt that its potential had generally remained unfulfilled in Japan.
Japan Society for Music Education (JSME). Kato Sensei considered the
Japan Society for Music Education to be relevant to school band directors, and
regularly attended its meetings. The following mission statement (Fig. 12.2) is
translated from its internet homepage.11
According to JSME’s mission statement, members are encouraged to attend
meetings for all divisions, so as to ensure greater collaboration between school
levels. Upon attending the Tokyo Middle School division 2003 annual meeting,
I was surprised to find zero university professors in attendance, a number
confirmed by the registration desk. That meeting, the only one of its kind,
occurred once per year. When asked about university professors, JSME leaders
expressed regret that few actively participated in their organization.
Senior bandmaster associations. Two other band organizations (Japan Band-
masters Association and Asia-Pacific Band Association) also contribute to the
band director community in Japan. The Japan Bandmasters Association (estab-
lished in 1967) is considered an elite club of distinguished band directors, many
of whom have reached retirement age. Because of its prestige, younger band
12.3 Relevant Institutions and Organizations 199
-nichi Onken and the meaning

of its name: Our full name is Zen Nihon Ongaku Kyoiku Kenkyu-kai, or Zen-nichi Onken
for short. Our English name is Japan Society for Music Education (JSME). According to our
contributes to the development of

as elementary, middle school and high school music teachers, and university instructors
associated with schools that have institutional memberships in the society. Symposia are
offered for each division (elementary, middle school, high school, university), and each is
actively pursuing the aforementioned goals. We also hold an integrated conference, in
addition to divisional meetings, workshops, and clinics.
Recently, school partnership has become a popular theme of discussion in the
education field, and Zen-nichi Onken is already developing such cooperative arrangements
for the improvement of society. Members are welcome to join the divisional meetings at any
level. Particularly, at the university level, more communication with school teachers is fully
desired. And, essentially that is Zen-nichi Onken, now in the 33rd year since its
Fig. 12.2 Japan society for music education
directors refer to JBA as the ‘‘Rotary Club of band directors,’’ and it is viewed as
an important arena for networking and a vital resource in terms of obtaining
financial support for high-profile projects. Compared with AJBA, the JBA is less
directly involved with school bands. Rather, the JBA focuses much of its atten-
tion on supporting band composers and professional level ensembles. The Asia-
Pacific Band Directors Association (established in 1978) is an organization that
seeks to facilitate exchange in the field of wind bands between Japan and other
Asian nations. Meetings have tended to be held on a biennial basis. Other
Japanese organizations are also beginning to attract school band directors, but
have yet to substantially affect school bands at the national level: Japan Society
for Music Culture Promotion; Academic Society of Japan for Winds, Percussion,
and Bands; Japan Society for Music Learning; and various others.
Professional media. Kato Sensei indicated that she subscribes to some pro-
fessional publications that help her to keep up with the latest trends in the field
of band conducting. In particular, Kato Sensei enjoyed Band Journal, which she
explained, ‘‘comes every month . . .. The advice for band teaching in that
magazine is quite useful. And, also the video magazine, ‘Winds’. I view that
occasionally.’’ Japan’s Band Journal documents major events in the band world,
gives suggested rehearsal strategies, includes regular columns by experts on
several different instruments that discuss ways to solve common problems,
discusses new literature, and even provides a free sample score of a new band
composition.
When asked to discuss any important people in the field of Japanese school
bands, Kato Sensei immediately mentioned Marutani Sensei, Director of the
Yodogawa Technical High School Band. According to Kato Sensei, ‘‘They
[Yodogawa band] are great not only at ‘competitionesque’ pieces, but at march-
ing and other concert pieces as well. Many people are very interested in that
band.’’ She even offered a videotape of the NHK special documentary featuring
the famous band, which she considered to be particularly insightful. Regarding

the band’s director, Marutani, Kato Sensei explained, ‘‘His way of rehearsing is
very strict . . . they practice until very late at night. Maybe you will see, he really
works with each student.’’ Besides this widely-distributed NHK feature docu-
mentary, the Yodogawa Technical High School Band has professionally
released many CDs that are available in music stores throughout Japan.
From the preceding discussion, it should be clear that the occupational
training of a Japanese school band director is enabled by a system of network-
ing within a greater community of colleagues. However, what remains missing
from this discussion is consideration of the role of music industry, and of the
philosophical influence of relevant institutions, which serve as the subjects for
the next chapter.
Notes
1. See Cohen (1985) and Wenger (1998) for detailed discussion.

2. Cohen (1985), p. 75.
3. Kiester (1993) identified the absence of professional development and continuing edu-
cation opportunities as important concerns in this field (p. 46). Willson (1986) similarly
noted that music education programs in Japanese universities ‘‘have little or no interest in
training instrumental music teachers’’ (p. 43). In the related field of art education, Wilds
(1993) similarly noted that in hindsight, some Japanese teachers perceived their education
as ‘‘not of any use’’ and lacking in ‘‘practical training’’ (p. 195), and that ‘‘they learn how to
actually teach from their peers in the school system itself when they become teachers’’
(p. 213). These foreign perceptions are critical, but may be valid as the data supports them
in Japan and elsewhere. Despite these kinds of general concerns, it should be noted that
certain areas of musical study, such as conducting technique, may be a special strong point
of Japanese music institutions, although actual wind band methods are rarely taught. The
Saito Method is remarkably detailed in its descriptions of precise techniques, emphasizing
‘‘changes in the velocity of the motion’’ of baton gestures in conducting. Its importance is
demonstrated in a statement in the book’s preface by renowned conductor Seiji Ozawa:
‘‘His teachings are so comprehensive and yet so fundamental that they embrace and enrich
all possible conducting styles’’ (1988, p. iii). It would be no exaggeration to suggest that the
Saito Method is unparalleled in terms of detail, and has either directly or indirectly
influenced the training of most Japanese conductors in recent generations.
4. Recall the historical discussion in Chapter 2.
5. See the discussion of composers Hoshina and Ito in Hebert (2001).
6. Here is it useful to also consider publications on Japanese universities. In recent years
foreign experts from a variety of disciplines have published books that are openly critical of
Japanese universities: Japanese Higher Education as Myth (McVeigh, 2002), Cartels of the
Mind: Japan’s Intellectual Closed Shop (Hall, 1998), and Empire of Schools: Japan’s
Universities and the Molding of a National Power Elite (Cutts, 1997), to name a few. But,
what is perhaps most revealing are books published by Japanese with experience in the
higher education systems of other nations, including an internationally respected professor
at one of Japan’s most progressive private universities (Kawanari, 2000). Kawanari’s well-
researched Collapse of Universities, which sold over 400,000 copies, reveals severe pro-
blems afflicting most fields of higher education in Japan, including music teacher educa-
tion. Ogawa (2004) is among the few Japanese scholars to directly grapple with such issues
in his music publications.
References 201
7. See, for example, Roesgaard (1998) and Singleton (1967).

8. See Kasaya (2000), p. 210.
9. Taken from the JASME internet homepage (Japan Academic Society for Music Edu-
cation, n.d.).
10. The dearth of previous school band studies is mentioned by several Japanese scholars, as
described in Chapter 2.
11. Taken from the JSME internet homepage (Japan Society for Music Education, n.d.).
References
Cohen, A. P. (1985). The symbolic construction of community. New York: Ellis Horwood
Limited.
Cutts, R. L. (1997). An empire of schools: Japan’s universities and the molding of a national
power elite. New York: M.E. Sharpe.
Hall, I. P. (1998). Cartels of the mind: Japan‘s intellectual closed shop. New York: W.W.
Norton.
Hebert, D. G. (2001). Hoshina and Ito: Japanese wind band composers. Journal of Band
Research, 37(1), 61–77.
Japan Academic Society for Music Education. (n.d.) Retrieved August 1, 2003, from http://
wwwsoc.nii.ac.jp/jmes2/index.html
Japan Society for Music Education. (n.d.) Retrieved August 1, 2003, from http://www.jsme.
net
Kasaya, K. (2000). The origin and development of Japanese-style organization. Kyoto: Inter-
national Research Center for Japanese Studies.
Kawanari, Y. (2000). Daigaku houkai [The collapse of universities]. Tokyo: Takarajimasha.
Kiester, G. J. (1993). A look at Japanese music education. Music Educators Journal, 79(6),
42–48.
McVeigh, B. J. (2002). Japanese higher education as myth. Armonk, NY: M.E. Sharpe.
Ogawa, M. (2004). Music teacher education in Japan: Structure, problems, and perspectives.
Philosophy of Music Education Review, 12(2), 139–153.
University Press.
Saito, H. (1988). The Saito conducting method (W. J. Toews, Trans.). Tokyo: Ongakuno
Tomosha and Min-On Concert Association.
Singleton, J. (1967). Nichu: A Japanese school. New York: Holt, Rinehart, and Winston.
Wenger, E. (1998). Communities of practice: Learning, meaning, and identity. Cambridge:
educational beliefs. Doctoral dissertation, University of Minnesota.
Willson, T. (1986). Japanese bands: What makes them so good? Music Educators Journal, 72
(5), 41.
Chapter 13
Corporate Giants: Yamaha and the Tokyo Kosei
Wind Orchestra
捨てる神あれば拾う神あり
Suteru kami areba hirou kami ari
‘‘When one god deserts you another will pick you up’’
13.1 Music Industry in Japan
In Denshigakki Sangyoron, the first book-length scholarly study to address the

history of Japan’s musical instrument industry, Kenji Tanaka concludes with the
assertion that Japan must strive to ‘‘escape from the labyrinth of culture indus-
trialization.’’1 What does this statement mean, and what implications may it have
for the field of music education? Most previous research on the topic of musical
practices in Japan has neglected to discuss the role of the music industry. This
situation is ironic, because when viewed in terms of economics, Japan has become
a world center for the production and consumption of ‘‘Western’’ music in recent
decades. Japanese companies have led most sectors of the global music industry,
from production of musical instruments (Yamaha, Kawai, Roland, Casio, Korg),
to the production, distribution and consumption of recordings (Toshiba/EMI,
Sony, Columbia, JVC, Panasonic, Yamaha), and even the world’s largest systems
for community music education (Yamaha, Kawai, Suzuki, Roland). Among all of
the companies associated with this enormous industry in Japan, Yamaha stands
out as especially influential, and it is useful now to consider the extent of its
influence within the sphere of Japanese wind bands, as well as that of other
corporations and even professional wind ensembles.
13.2 Contributions of the Yamaha Corporation
Yamaha history. In the previous chapter, the community of Japanese band

directors was identified and official statements of relevant organizations pre-
sented, and earlier chapters described pedagogical techniques, but in order to
fully understand this model it is important to also consider the philosophical
204 13 Corporate Giants: Yamaha and the Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra
underpinnings of teaching approaches seen in Japanese community music

education. Yasuharu Takahagi observed that Japanese music teachers ‘‘tend
to teach the textbook without questioning or developing their own personal
philosophy of music education.’’2 This may generally be true for academic
music classes. But school bands, as extra-curricular clubs, lack the structure
of a set curriculum, and are undergirded by a network of community institu-
tions with a vested interest in their survival. Certainly, instruction cannot occur
in the complete absence of a guiding philosophy, although the approach taken
is not always officially declared in the form of a mission statement or curricu-
lum. The most sensible place to seek evidence of such a philosophical approach
to school band directing would be within the All-Japan Band Association, as
Japan’s most significant band organization.
According to AJBA documents and statements from its Director, the AJBA
philosophy is quite simply to organize and facilitate a national competition ‘‘for
amateur bands.’’ In terms of a tangible philosophical position, it cannot be
concluded that the AJBA directly determines the instructional approaches used
within school bands, although there can be little doubt that many practices have
arisen as a result of an extremely competitive environment that is attributable to
AJBA. Interestingly, Burdett concluded in her historical study of the National
School Band Tournament in the United States during the 1920s and 1930s that
‘‘Music educators never formulated a specific philosophy, goals, and objectives
as the basis for the [national band] contests.’’3 However, it is clear that outside
the AJBA, many Japanese band directors are influenced by philosophical
positions advanced from the private sector.
The Yamaha Corporation has long been deeply involved in the Japanese
band community, as its greatest supplier of musical instruments, repair services,
and clinicians. Yamaha sponsors many band events, and is very effective at
marketing itself in all band-related media, and Yamaha community music
schools are widely recognized as effective sources for supplemental instruction
on band instruments. It can be just as difficult to imagine what Japanese bands
would be like without the contributions of Yamaha, as it is to imagine what
Yamaha would be like without the clientele of the AJBA competition’s 700,000
participants and other band musicians throughout Japan. Yamaha has
long maintained a symbiotic partnership with these school-based community
ensembles, for it was already the largest musical instrument maker in Japan in
the age of the jinta, before Japanese community youth bands had even entered
schools.4
Presently, the slogan of Yamaha is ‘‘Creating kando together,’’ kando being
a poetic Japanese term that roughly means sublime rapture, deep excitement, or
profound emotion. According to a promotional video distributed by Yamaha
in 2009, over 5 million students have studied music at Yamaha schools. The
Yamaha Corporation traces its history to 1887, but is actually a conglomera-
tion of various parent companies, one of which was led by Torakusu Yamaha
and specialized in the production of reed organs.5 As early as 1894, the Eigawa
Seisakusho subsidiary company was providing instruments for chindonya (street
13.2 Contributions of the Yamaha Corporation 205
musicians), military bands, and even musicians of the imperial household.6 The
company began by fixing imported Western instruments, but by 1907 was
already producing some of its own. At first, the quality was not good, but
craftsmanship rapidly improved. In 1937, the company was redeveloped as
Nippon Kangakki Kabushiki Kaisha, and in 1970 combined with Nihon Gakki
Seizou Kabushiki Gaisha to become the wind instrument division of the Yamaha
Corporation, which had been known for years as Nippon Gakki Company,
Ltd. The meaning of this name in Japanese is quite generic: ‘‘Japan musical
instrument company,’’ but the company was later renamed Yamaha Corpora-
tion in honor of its founder.
The Yamaha Corporation found great success in the field of keyboard
instrument production, but also began producing wind instruments in 1965.
By the mid-1970s, under the leadership of President Genichi Kawakami,
Yamaha was producing 200,000 pianos annually, and fully 30% of the world’s
keyboards and wind instruments.7 In 1988, during the ‘‘bubble era’’ of Japanese
economic prosperity, Yamaha’s total annual sales reached 391.8 billion yen,
nearly doubling the 206.6 billion mark of 1976. As Hiyama observed, ‘‘By 1989
Yamaha had built factories in Michigan capable of producing 100,000 brass
instruments per year as well as in Hammamatsu and Toyoka capable of more
than 300,000 per year, which produced instruments that circled the globe.’’8
Instrument production had never before occurred on such a large scale, and the
Yamaha brand soon became a household name. The company also expanded
into domains that are far outside the music industry. As a result, even today the
brand seen on a large number of the motorcycles, snowmobiles, golf carts, and
speed boats throughout the world consists of a musical symbol: three intersect-
ing tuning forks. It may be that no other music company in world history has
ever exerted such influence on global popular culture. The Yamaha corporate
logo is explained as follows:
The three tuning forks of the Yamaha logo mark represent the cooperative relationship
that links the three pillars of our business – technology, production, and sales. They
also evoke the robust vitality that has forged a reputation for sound and music the
world over, a territory indicated by the enclosing circle. The mark also symbolizes the
three essential musical elements: melody, harmony, and rhythm.9
Clearly, Yamaha has been an important factor in providing the industrial

support to enable the emergence of a strong wind band tradition in Japan.
Kawakami’s philosophy. Since the development of the AJBA competition,
Yamaha has consistently claimed the role of major sponsor for band events, but
the company has also promoted a particular pedagogical approach that
requires discussion. The Yamaha philosophy of music education, though little
known outside Japan, is the most influential instructional approach among
Japanese community music teachers. Within Japan, the influence of the
Yamaha School greatly exceeds that of the Suzuki Method. Although a few
studies have examined the Yamaha method in practice, there appear to be no
previous English language discussions of its philosophical implications,
particularly in relation to Japanese education and culture.10 The Yamaha

School’s philosophy is presented in the extensive writings of its unique educa-
tional visionary and CEO Genichi Kawakami (1912–2002).
In 1987, Kawakami published an English-language version of his compiled
philosophical essays entitled Reflections on Music Popularization. The book
consists of various essays and excerpts from speeches presented over several
decades in which Kawakami makes frequent reference to Chinese philosophy,
Buddhist and Christian principles, and the thoughts of famous Classical and
popular musicians. Much like educational philosopher Tsunesaburo Makigu-
chi, Kawakami was highly critical of the teacher centered instructional ‘‘force-
feeding’’ and memorization emphasized within Japanese schooling.11 He felt
that Japanese education caused excessive anxiety and stress. To the contrary,
pleasure served as the core principle of Kawakami’s general philosophy. Kawa-
kami despised the arrogance and elitism often associated with Western classical
music.12 He genuinely valued popular music as well as classical forms, and
advocated musical studies for enjoyment, a position that fit well with the more
holistic aims of the Yamaha Corporation, aims that eventually expanded from
its original emphasis on musical instruments to include production of motor-
cycles, sporting goods, and other products for ‘‘pleasurable activity’’.
Kawakami was a sincere internationalist, and his writings celebrate the claim
that ‘‘a major goal of the Yamaha Music Education System, ‘world peace
through music,’ is steadily being realized.’’13 Within Kawakami’s book, Msti-
slav Rostropovich discussed a Yamaha concert held at the United Nations
Headquarters General Assembly Hall at the invitation of UNICEF. Noting
the significance of ‘‘young children performing works of their own composi-
tion,’’ he discussed the Yamaha system’s noble goal of ‘‘transcending national
boundaries.’’14 Rostropovich explained as follows:
In Mr. Kawakami’s educational philosophy, childhood is seen as the most important
period . . . to find out that Mr. Kawakami was engaged in the education of 600,000
children starting from age four was great news, and deeply impressed me. What almost
no other countries had even undertaken, Mr. Kawakami was doing as an individual.
On top of this, he is doing it systematically on the largest scale in the world.15
Kawakami often indicated dissatisfaction with Japanese universities and the

educational system that required students to memorize facts for university
entrance examinations. He wrote the following:
Do you think a good memory can solve all of life’s problems? In fact, there are people
whom you would call worthless and disgusting, who have gone to Tokyo University
because of their good memory. It’s no joke. But of course a man’s worth is not found
only in a good memory; there are many other admirable traits such as kindness,
honesty, and perseverance.16
In response to a Japanese musician who was considering whether to enroll in

a Japanese music conservatory or study other subjects at university, Kawakami
advised that ‘‘There is no necessity for anyone as talented as you to study at a
music university in order to become a Yamaha instructor. At a music university,
13.2 Contributions of the Yamaha Corporation 207
you will learn such things as the theories of atonal and random music, but these
studies will contribute nothing to your ability to help children and people who
love music.’’17 It may be partly due to such assertions that Kawakami’s work
has received little attention from Japanese music professors.
Kawakami’s views regarding competition and cooperation in music are
certainly of relevance to Japanese school bands. He wrote the following:
Subjects such as music, art, and calligraphy should be included in extracurricular
activities or optional subjects, and should not be graded. It is a competitive world, so
these subjects at least should be used for making friends and cultivating a sense of
solidarity with other human beings.18
This statement suggests that cooperation is an important ideal of music

participation, perhaps even more so than technical achievement. In fact, Kawa-
kami goes so far as to suggest that non-competitive approaches may be effec-
tive, writing, ‘‘I am not in favor of creating top players by choosing a limited
number of students and forcing them to compete with each other. I think people
would be better off playing music in a friendly atmosphere. I do not agree with
those who say that a non-competitive approach to music results in inferior
musical technique.’’19 It might seem that Kawakami is entirely opposed to
competition, however, he also remarked that ‘‘Competition is a necessary evil,
because it provides learners with the opportunity to be recognized by the world.
However, it leads to a decadence in music, if we think the aim of music is just to
compete.’’20
Kawakami felt that a music teacher ‘‘should be a good performer’’ and should
‘‘provide children with a model through his or her own actions.’’21 He encouraged
students to develop an original interpretation of musical scores, and discouraged
copying of recordings, while regarding imitation he wrote that ‘‘Nothing beauti-
ful will be produced by simply following a model.’’22 Kawakami considered the
Japanese traditions of jougekankei (hierarchical relations) and tatemae (artificial
image projected in public domains) to be questionable practices, potentially
detrimental to music appreciation. He wrote the following:
When I contemplate the future of Japanese music, I feel very concerned about the
Japanese love for authoritarianism and power. I am particularly aware of this in the
world of classical music. However, people are prevented from criticizing authority in
the way they would like to, while the deserving ‘‘unknowns’’ are never openly praised
for their abilities.23
From such statements, it is clear that Kawakami was a thoughtful leader, fully
aware of the practical problems associated with community music learning in
Japan. Kawakami does not appear to have directly written about school bands,
yet his ideas nevertheless seem quite relevant when considering this case from an
international perspective. While the Yamaha system of community music schools
emphasizes keyboards rather than wind bands, most of the clinicians commonly
hired by school band directors for workshops are affiliated with Yamaha. Many,
perhaps the majority, of Japanese band directors rely heavily on the direct
guidance of such clinicians, particularly during their first few years of leading a
school band. Among the Japanese middle school bands in Miyamoto’s survey
(2003), 68% of the band directors regularly hired such outside clinicians.24 Kato
Sensei mentioned the influence of Yamaha clinicians on several occasions, as did
most other band directors encountered during the course of this study. Within
interviews, school band directors also discussed the importance of Kawakami’s
ideas, many of which seem to have crystallized in the practices of Japanese school
bands and other community-based music ensembles.
13.3 Other Japanese Music Companies
Yamaha is certainly not the only significant musical instrument company in

Japan, yet most of the others tend to be related in various ways to Yamaha,
which maintains a high profile as the world’s largest instrument maker. The
Yamaha Corporation claims that ‘‘Strong commitment to promote and support
music education and popularization is one of the most significant elements to
distinguish Yamaha from its competitors,’’25 yet ample evidence shows that
other notable Japanese instrument companies, including Roland, Kawai, and
Korg, have also demonstrated a significant commitment to music education.
Roland. The Roland company has been increasingly visible both in Japan and
abroad as a major producer of keyboard instruments and music technology.
Roland Founder Ikutaro Kakehashi (b. 1930) has also produced a book that
contains many important insights regarding the music industry in Japan. In a
book chapter entitled ‘‘Music is a Venture’’ Kakehashi acknowledged that ‘‘some
artists do not wish to use the term ‘business.’ This is a potentially dangerous
misconception on their part. A businesslike viewpoint is vital if they are to
succeed in realizing their intentions.’’26 Kakehashi asserts that the field of music
is best considered in terms of 4 components: (A) Artists, players, and composers,
(B) Music publication and commercial recording, (C) Manufacturers of musical
instruments, and (D) Education. Like Yamaha’s educational visionary Genichi
Kawakami, Kakehashi views education as a component of industry, not a
separate entity. Kakehashi has also proposed a tripartite model of music industry
that he describes as a ‘‘more contemporary’’ conceptualization:
(1) Hardware: Means and equipment for playing music.
(2) Software: Music scores and data to support the playing.
(3) Artware: Artistic talent – The absolute core of the music business.27
Roland is highly regarded internationally as a manufacturer of high quality
keyboard instruments that are used in various styles of popular music. The
remarkable accomplishments of the company’s CEO have been described as
follows:
Promoted to Chairman of the Roland Group, Ikutaro Kakehashi had achieved many
of his aims by the end of 1991. With multiple manufacturing companies, including
Roland, Boss, Rodgers and Roland DG, the Rhodes brand name, and around 20
jointly held distribution companies, his position was secure as one of the all-time great
13.3 Other Japanese Music Companies 209
pioneers of the synth and hi-tech music industry. He had even been awarded an
honourary Doctorate in 1991 by the world-renowned Berklee College of Music.28
In 2001 Roland expanded into community music education in Japan by

acquiring a network of music schools called Victor Music Technique.29 Kake-
hashi also retired in that year due to old age. Roland’s direct contributions to
music education may have remained underdeveloped until recent years, but the
company has long played an important role in the music industry and is
increasingly committed to educational endeavors.
Kawai. Another one of the world’s most productive musical instrument
companies, Kawai Musical Instruments Manufacturing Company, Ltd., was
originally founded by Koichi Kawai (1886–1955) as an offshoot of Nippon
Gakki (Yamaha). From the late 1890s, Koichi Kawai had worked for Yamaha,
but in 1927, a decade following the death of Yamaha’s founder, the company
was experiencing financial and labor difficulties. Kawai left to start his own
instrument company, which was incorporated in 1951. In 1955, Koichi Kawai
passed away at the age of 70, but his son Shigeru Kawai quickly took charge of
the company and in 1956 launched an ambitious new music education program,
the Kawai Music School system for students and the Kawai Academy of Music
for music teacher training. In 1989, Shigeru’s son Hirotaka Kawai became the
third generation President of Kawai. By the end of the twentieth century, Kawai
Musical Instruments Manufacturing Company, Ltd. became ‘‘the second lar-
gest producer of pianos in Japan, the world’s largest producer of that instru-
ment.’’30 The company boasts ‘‘nearly $1 billion annually in worldwide sales . . .
employing over 4,000 people across four continents’’.31
Korg. Electronic musical instrument maker Korg was founded by Tsutomu
Katoh and Tadashi Osanai in 1963. The company explains its inception as follows:
In the early 1960s, Korg founder Tsutomu Katoh was a nightclub proprietor. Tadashi
Osanai, a noted Japanese accordionist, performed regularly at Katoh’s club. Katoh
told Osanai that it would be nice to have a rhythm machine to keep the beat. Osanai, an
engineering graduate from Japan’s prestigious Tokyo University, was certain he could
build a rhythm machine himself, and convinced Katoh to finance his efforts.32
Following these early experiments, the company’s business was ‘‘constructing

rhythm units for Yamaha’s Electone electronic organs,’’ but it would later become
‘‘one of the most successful Japanese manufacturers of electronic instruments,’’ in
which Yamaha held a 40% stake since 1986.33 Korg has also become one of the
world’s leading producers of hardware and software for music technology class-
rooms. The company is a major sponsor of various educational projects in Japan
and even at the Berklee School of Music in Boston, which has a large number of
Japanese students. Its educational division called SoundTree is increasingly active
outside of Japan in the promotion of music technology in schools.34
It is surely no coincidence that a strong tradition of music education, both
within and outside of schools, developed in a nation that had also produced the
world’s most profitable and innovative musical instrument industry. Although
much of the emphasis of the companies described here has been in the areas of
keyboards and technological devices, notable relationships are evident between

these companies and both school and community education, particularly in the
case of the Yamaha Corporation.
13.4 Professional Wind Bands in Japan
Japan is among a very small number of nations in the world that supports full-
time professional wind bands that are independent of military and police
organizations and religious institutions. What has caused this unique develop-
ment of professional wind bands, and why did it occur in Japan rather than
other nations? Such questions are not easily answered through traditional
historiography, but sociological theory may provide a robust foundation
from which to address this matter. Before moving to such sociological analysis,
it is useful to take a closer look at the two most notable professional wind bands
in Japan, the Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra and the Osaka Municipal Sympho-
nic Band.
The Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra (TKWO). When one of the few boys in the
Ishikawa Middle School Band was asked what he thought was the greatest band
in Japan, he enthusiastically responded, ‘‘I have heard the Tokyo Kosei Wind
Orchestra!’’ He then proceeded to explain that he owned several of their CDs.
This is merely one example among many, of school band members, and direc-
tors, explicitly mentioning the Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra, which has been
previously identified as the most influential wind band in Japan.35 There are
many clear indications of the pervasive influence of TKWO among Japanese
school bands, from large, glossy posters hung on the walls of band rooms (with
images of TKWO section leaders), to the participation of TKWO members as
adjudicators at the AJBA national contest, to the fact that most of the reper-
toire performed by Japanese school bands has been professionally recorded by
TKWO and commercially released on CD in Japan (by the same religious
corporation that owns Fumon Hall). While it would be inaccurate to say that
TWKO, as an organization, is directly involved in the training of most Japanese
band directors, it does sponsor band workshops and give outreach concerts in
schools, and its powerful influence as a performance model, via concerts and
professional recordings, is undeniable. Furthermore, individual TKWO mem-
bers are highly active as band clinicians and instrumental pedagogues. When
asked about the relevance of the Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra, Kato Sensei
explained, ‘‘we often listen to their CDs, and they do various kinds of perfor-
mances that soon influence bands. They mail information about their concerts
directly to school bands and are strong self-promoters.’’ When asked to suggest
other professional groups that serve as models for Japanese school bands, Kato
Sensei assured me that the Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra is certainly the most
important model for school bands, and that only within the Kansai area is it
somewhat rivaled only by the local Osaka Municipal Band.
13.4 Professional Wind Bands in Japan 211
In recent decades, the Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra has come to be widely
regarded as the world’s leading professional civilian wind band. In terms of
ticket sales and recording outputs, this band and its only notable rival, Osaka
Municipal Symphonic Band, strongly resemble major symphony orchestras,
and are also highly active in the commissioning and performance of new
compositions. The Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra is patronized by the Rissho
Kosei-Kai, a lay Buddhist organization with a unique doctrine, and its Fumon
Hall headquarters on the religion’s main campus in central Tokyo also host the
All-Japan Band Association national competition. The ensemble typically
makes the premier recordings of required pieces for the AJBA competition
and its members serve as contest adjudicators. The Tokyo Kosei Wind Orches-
tra was founded in 1960, and in 1966 the Rissho Kosei-Kai President Niwano
described the role of music as follows:
Another means of propaganda is music. At the headquarters, we have the Kosei
Classical Ceremonial Music Group, the Kosei Brass Band and the Kosei Chorus
Group. They present performances at the events of this society and also of the world
in general, and at the institutions for the needy with the intention of fostering religious
sentiment and establishing better relations with the world through music.36
In 1985 the Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra’s official mission was explained in
a concert program as follows:
The orchestra’s fundamental philosophy is for its musicians to attain ever-higher levels
of musical excellence through constant improvement in personal character. Its perma-
nent objective is to utilize music to cultivate rich human feeling and to make an
important contribution to a more positive and progressive society.37
Probably the main reason this band came to be widely known outside of Japan
is the influence of Frederick Fennell (1914–2004), who served as its director from
1984 to 1994. Widely regarded as the most influential wind conductor of the late
twentieth century, Fennell may be credited with steering the band toward playing
a higher level of repertoire and releasing numerous recordings through a multi-
media publishing company that is also owned by Rissho Kosei Kai. Eventually
their efforts would produce a steady stream of accolades from abroad. In 1989,
for example, the international distribution of a mere fraction of the ensemble’s
recordings was hailed as ‘‘one of the major releases of the decade’’ and ‘‘almost an
encyclopedic survey of symphonic wind music.’’38 Today, posters of the Tokyo
Kosei Wind Orchestra hang in the band rooms of many Japanese schools, and
students use their definitive recordings as performance models.
In 2006, an article from the Rissho Kosei-kai’s online newsletter regarding
Fennell and the Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra concluded as follows:
In recent years, in the midst of globalization, the world has suffered much antagonism
and many conflicts, because of divisions between races and religions and due to the
prevalence of nationalism. In this confused age, it is indispensable that people deeply
understand each other through culture and arts, such as music, and share the impres-
sion with others. In the arena of contributions to world peace, great things are expected
of TOKWO and Maestro Fennell.39
Osaka Municipal Symphonic Band. Another professional wind ensemble that

is quite influential in Japan is the Osaka Municipal Symphonic Band (OMSB),
which claims to be the oldest surviving western orchestral ensemble in Japan. In
1934, the Osakashi Ongakudai (Osaka Band Corps), which had been an army-
affiliated band since 1923, was brought under the authority of Osaka City, and
in 1946, the ensemble changed its name to become the less militaristic sounding
Osakashi Ongakudan, or Osaka Municipal Symphonic Band.40 This ensemble
and other military bands that regularly performed in Osaka’s Tennouji Park
during the period of colonial expansion have been credited with inspiring the
development of other wind bands throughout Japan prior to the emergence of
the Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra.41 In 1981, the Osaka Municipal Symphonic
Band moved into its own office, rehearsal, and performance facilities provided
by Osaka city nearby the famous castle at Osakajo Koen. The ensemble began
performing numerous concerts from this location. By 1996, the Osaka Munici-
pal Symphonic Band had begun releasing CDs, and in 2000 began producing a
series of Live Performance CDs, beginning with their 80th regular concert.
Legitimation of tradition. Reflecting on the case of Japanese wind bands, it
now becomes possible to recognize the conditions that have led to the devel-
opment of such a strong wind band tradition in this nation, ranging from
youth bands through professional ensembles. Despite having only been a
significant part of Japanese schools for a few generations, wind bands appear
to have solidly attained legitimacy as a significant musical and education
practice. The wider context in which this process occurred seems worth further
exploration.
In order for newly developed, or newly introduced, art forms to attain
legitimacy within a social system, certain conditions are necessary. As Shyon
Baumann has observed, ‘‘Discrete areas of cultural production attain legitimacy
as art, high or popular, during periods of high cultural opportunity through
mobilizing material or institutional resources and through the exercise of a
discourse that frames the cultural production as legitimate art according to one
or more preexisting ideologies.’’42 Thus, according to Baumann’s model, the
legitimization of new art movements requires three fundamental elements:
(1) political opportunity, (2) mobilizing resources, and (3) frames of discourse.
As this study has demonstrated, Japanese wind bands began as a feature of
militarization, but later became integrated into schools with the support of
music industry. A system of national band competitions developed, which was
supported by nationalistic ideology and required a particular kind of technical
showpiece. Composers responded to this unique market by producing original
works that met the specific needs of a national competition while also touching
at the core of Japanese spiritual beliefs.43 Professional ensembles also arose and
flourished with the support of a large base of consumers among amateur bands.
The kind of music transculturation that ensued entailed what is arguably a more
egalitarian view of western music ensembles, in which wind bands were pro-
vided the opportunity to flourish as in no other nation before.
Notes 213
13.5 Concluding Remarks
This chapter opened with the traditional Japanese kotowaza ‘‘Suteru kami
areba hirou kami ari.’’ Indeed, previous chapters have shown that many asso-
ciated with the wind band scene in Japan sense that their efforts are unsup-
ported and unappreciated by the educational establishment; However, this
chapter has shown that in the place of an education god, a powerful music
industry god has arisen and offered its support for the establishment and
maintenance of a vibrant tradition of wind bands in Japanese schools.
While detailed discussion of the successes of Japanese music industry and
theorizing as to its causes is beyond the scope of this book, some basic under-
standing of this sphere of activity seems essential in order to consider the broader
cultural context of Japanese wind bands. Indeed, I do not hesitate to assert it is no
coincidence that such a successful system of wind bands emerged in a nation that
has also contained most of the world’s largest music related companies, at every
stage of music production and consumption, from the companies that record and
market artists, to the production of musical instruments, distribution of sound
recordings, production of equipment used in recording studios, and even the
devices on which music is played. Japan has clearly been situated at the center of
much of the global music industry for several decades. In fact, music has become
such a powerful industry in Japan that concerns have been expressed regarding a
‘‘labyrinth of culture industrialization.’’ Bin Ebisawa, President of Kunitachi
College of Music, one of Japan’s largest music conservatories, even observed
that as a result of so much new music technology in Japan, ‘‘Now it looks like we
are nearing the twilight of music education based on acoustic instruments,
particularly European traditional instruments.’’44
Many are now questioning what the future will hold for wind bands in Japan.
Have they already reached their height of popularity and their peak of achieve-
ment? Because the number of students, hence the number of schools, is rapidly
deceasing, the future market for musical instruments in Japan looks increas-
ingly limited, and it is rather difficult for anyone to predict the direction music
education might take in the future.
Notes
1. See Tanaka (1998), p. 256.

2. See Takahagi (1994), p. 209. During the late twentieth century, Yasuharu Takahagi was
among the most well-known music education professors in Japan, having been the only
Japanese to date to serve as President of the International Society for Music Education. He
taught at Tokyo Gakugei University for many years.
3. See Burdett (1986).
4. Review Chapter 2 for historical discussion of chindonya.
5. See Kobayashi (2000).
6. Hiyama (1990), p. 87.
7. See Davies, Good, and Tarr (2007).
8. See Hiyama (1990), pp. 292–293.

9. See Origins of the Yamaha Brand (n.d.).
10. See Miranda (2000) for a study of instructional practices within a Yamaha school.
11. See Kawakami (1987), pp. 120–121. Also see Makiguchi (1989) for an insightful philo-
sophical perspective on problems associated with traditional education in Japan.
12. See Kawakami (1987), p. 153.
13. See Kawakami (1987), p. 316.
14. See Kawakami (1987), p. 291.
15. See Kawakami (1987), p. 293.
16. See Kawakami (1987), p. 129.
17. See Kawakami (1987), p. 369. Also see Kawanari (2000).
18. See Kawakami (1987), p. 31.
19. See Kawakami (1987), p. 176.
20. See Kawakami (1987), p. 234.
21. See Kawakami (1987), pp. 103 and 171.
22. See Kawakami (1987), pp. 261 and 164.
23. See Kawakami (1987), p. 163. This point is particularly interesting as one considers the
biographies of what were arguably the three most influential Japanese musicians in
western music idioms during the twentieth century. Composer Toru Takemitsu, conduc-
tor Seiji Ozawa, and jazz arranger Toshiko Akiyoshi were all Manchurian-born Japanese
who mostly studied music outside Japan and were unable to gain significant recognition
in Japan until after attaining great success abroad. The uncanny similarities that unite
these three artists appear to have not yet been addressed in previous publications.
24. See Miyamoto’s survey (2003).
25. See Yamaha Corporation (n.d.).
26. See Kakehashi and Olsen (2002).
27. See Kakehashi and Olsen (2002), p. 25.
28. See Reid (2005c). Also see Reid (2005a, 2005b, 2004a, 2004b).
29. See Reid (2005c).
30. See Kawai Corporation (n.d.).
31. See Ehrlich and Good (2007). According to Ishizumi (1990), ‘‘In 1957, the FTC initiated
proceedings against the Yamaha Corporation in connection with Yamaha’s ownership of
shares in the Kawai Musical Instruments Company, one of Yamaha’s direct competitors:
at the time, Yamaha owned 24.5% of Kawai. The FTC considered that Yamaha’s
indirect equity relationship with Kawai was substantially harming competition in the
market. This case was also settled by consent decree, whereby Yamaha was forced to
reduce its ownership in Kawai from 24.5 to 9.5%’’ (pp. 195–196).
32. See Korg (n.d.).
33. See Davies (2007).
34. See the SoundTree website (http://www.soundtree.com).
35. See Hebert (2001a) for further discussion.
36. See Rissho Kosei-kai (1966), p. 117.
37. See Hebert (2001a), p. 216.
38. See McDonald (1989) for discussion.
39. See Saito (n.d.).
40. See Osakashi Ongakudan (2003), p. 16.
41. See Hosokawa (2001).
42. See Baumann (2006), p. 60. It should also be noted that generally, Japanese industry
‘‘overturns’’ many of the ‘‘established principles of manufacture’’ associated with Eur-
opean and North American companies (Kaplinsky & Posthuma, 1994, p. 19). Specifi-
cally, eight specific ‘‘areas of production organization’’ have been identified as key factors
in the success of Japanese manufacturers: (1) the handling of inventories; (2) the approach
to quality; (3) the layout of the factory; (4) the determination of optimum batch and lot
References 215
sizes; (5) the organization of work; (6) the reaping of systemic gains and the introduction
of work-teams; (7) changes in inter-firm linkages; and (8) instituting processes of con-
tinuous change (Kaplinsky & Posthuma, 1994, pp. 19–20). Holistically, this approach
may be viewed as ‘‘a system which makes relatively light use of embodied capital and
intensive use of human beings’’ (Kaplinsky & Posthuma, 1994, p. 34).
43. Koji Matsunobu (2007) identified key characteristics of Japanese spirituality of relevance
to music learning, including ‘‘(a) an insignificance of human existence in contrast with the
natural environment; (b) a feeling of awe toward nature; (c) a connectedness with
ancestors; (d) a reference to individuals’ inner strength; and (e) a sense of absolute
power without reference to a particular religion’’ (p. 1425).
44. See Tanaka (1998), pp. 239–240.
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Chapter 14
Metaphors of a Japanese Band Community
言わぬが花
Iwanu ga hana
‘‘Not speaking is the flower’’ – much is best left unsaid
This chapter examines how a sense of musical community is constructed

through the collective use of metaphors in the discourse of Japanese wind
band members. Marie McCarthy described communities as ‘‘important reposi-
tories of symbols, the mental constructs that provide people with the means to
make meaning and perceive the boundaries of a particular social group.’’1 She
also linked this notion of community to music, writing that ‘‘The generational
transmission of music is a primary site for inducting the young into a group’s
musical practices and traditions, and through that process immersing them in
communal values and passing on traditions that link the generations, symboli-
cally and musically.’’2 Expanding on McCarthy’s position, this chapter intro-
duces concepts from the field of metaphor theory in order to demonstrate how
notions of community are socially formed through the reification of key meta-
phorical constructs. This theoretical perspective is then applied to examination
of how specific metaphors are used in discourse to construct a unified sense of
purpose and meaning within the band community.3
14.1 Communities of Learning
The theoretical contributions of Lev Vygotsky have already been discussed in

relation to the model of teaching and cooperative learning observed within the
Ishikawa Middle School band, particularly how a sense of community is formed
through its rehearsals. Several theoretical concepts serve as a backdrop from
which to delve further into examination of how this community is constructed.
Etienne Wenger’s concept of ‘‘communities of practice’’ consists of a theore-
tical framework for analysis of how learning occurs within the context of
particular subcultures and social networks.4 Extending on many of Vygotsky’s
218 14 Metaphors of a Japanese Band Community
ideas, this view of learning emphasizes the role of cultural context, a perspective
that differs radically from traditional approaches that have tended to take a
more reductive view of learning as the reception of instructional content and
subsequent mastery of key outcomes.5 Rather, Wenger begins with a broad
view of learning, as a process that occurs collectively while the human species
struggles to make sense of the world and construct meaning from the experience
of life. Regarding this holistic learning process, Wenger wrote:
Being alive as human beings means that we are constantly engaged in the pursuit of
enterprises of all kinds, from ensuring our physical survival to the most lofty pleasures.
As we define these enterprises and engage in their pursuit together, we interact with
each other and with the world and we tune our relations with each other and the world
accordingly. In other words we learn.6
Based upon this notion of collective learning, Wenger introduced the ‘‘com-
munity of practice’’ concept as follows:
Over time, this collective learning results in practices that reflect both the pursuit of our
enterprises and the attendant social relations. These practices are thus the property of a
kind of community created over time by the sustained pursuit of a shared enterprise. It
makes sense, therefore, to call these kinds of communities, communities of practice.7
In this way, learning is closely associated with the notion of praxis, of

collectively established ways of acting (operating as an individual agent within
a social structure) and being (constructing meaning and defining self identity), a
feature that engenders analysis of social interaction within natural learning
environments. Wenger’s view is compatible with Vygotsky’s notion of the
‘‘Zone of Proximal Development’’, as the teacher and older peers take on the
role of scaffolding learning in order to facilitate activities that guide learners
toward attainment of valued competencies, enabling them to become full
participants in the community.
From a description of this theoretical model of community, proceeds a
discussion of the role of metaphor as key to an examination of how notions
of community and identity are constructed in musical contexts. Why does mere
symbolism matter for this discussion? Music education scholar Patricia Shehan
Campbell wrote that ‘‘music offers children powerful aural images by which
they come to understand themselves symbolically and emotionally. Music is the
repository for their varied moods, a means by which they can relate to who they
are (or are in the process of becoming) at particular times and places.’’8 More-
over, music education philosopher Estelle Jorgensen has observed that ‘‘society
is as much shaped by music as music is shaped by society. Through singing and
playing musical instruments, people create a corporal sense of their identity.
The texts their songs employ and values their musics express reinforce their
beliefs and practices and educate their young.’’9 Taking these positions into
account, it follows that analysis of how meaning is constructed through music
participation engenders key insights into the significance of musical practices in
the context of education and culture.
14.2 Metaphors of Community 219
14.2 Metaphors of Community
Among the fundamental objectives of ethnography is to gain an understanding

of the cultural insider’s perspective. This is often a daunting task, yet one of the
more effective ways of both unraveling and communicating the insider’s per-
spective is through examination of the use of metaphor in sociocultural context.
This is because the collective practice of metaphor use enables community to be
defined through the discourse of a social group. In other words, detailed
analysis of metaphor use may demonstrate how the Ishikawa Middle School
band defines itself as a community.
In their landmark treatise on the topic of metaphor, linguist George Lakoff
and philosopher Mark Johnson wrote the following:
[Metaphor] is pervasive in everyday life, not just in language but in thought and action.
. . . Our concepts structure what we perceive, how we get around in the world, and how
we relate to other people. Our conceptual system thus plays a central role in defining
our everyday realities. If we are right in suggesting that our conceptual system is largely
metaphorical, then the way we think, what we experience, and what we do every day is
very much a matter of metaphor.10
How does this concept relate to behaviors and meanings within a Japanese
school band? Certainly a rehearsal atmosphere that emphasizes the objective of
‘‘winning,’’ or the goal of ‘‘matching’’ one’s sound with a recorded model,
indicates the pervasive projection of key metaphorical constructs. Symbolic
anthropologist James Fernandez defined metaphor as ‘‘the statement of an
association between things that are normally categorized in separate domains
of experience. This association cannot be based on designative or literal defin-
ing features but rather on the figurative or connotative features the two things
have in common.’’11 Within Ishikawa Middle School band rehearsals, when a
musical phrase is referred to as ‘‘delicious,’’ or band members are described as
giving, or not giving, all of their ‘‘blood and tears’’, metaphor is clearly at play.
The role of metaphor has remained relatively unexamined in the field of music
education ethnography, yet within related fields its significance has already
been made quite evident.
A series of collaborative studies in the field of metaphor by linguist George
Lakoff and philosopher Mark Johnson have sought to examine the ‘‘structure
of our inner lives as we experience them phenomenologically.’’12 Lakoff and
Johnson have identified a need for further naturalistic study of metaphor use in
Japanese discourse:
Given the radical differences between American and Japanese cultures, this raises the
question of just how universal are experiences of inner life and the metaphors used to
reason about them. Though we have no access to the inner lives of those in radically
different cultures, we do have access to their metaphor systems and the way they reason
using those metaphor systems.13
Regarding the role of metaphor for the construction of musical meaning

Johnson wrote, ‘‘My hypothesis is that the very same patterns of bodily
perception, activity and feeling that structure our musical experience also
structure our conceptualizations of it.’’14 Further, ‘‘We understand ‘musical
forces’ via metaphors grounded in aspects of physical force. . . . Metaphorically,
we use our understanding of physical forces to conceptualize musical forces. In
this way, the bodily basis of meaning is carried up into our abstract conceptua-
lization and reasoning regarding music.’’15 The model of metaphor discussed by
Johnson and Lakoff emphasizes embodiment, or how metaphor enables
humans to make sense of their lives by linking phenomenological experience
with iconic conceptual constructs. This analysis will move to issues related to
embodiment in the interpretation of metaphorical discourse, but for now the
broader role of symbolic structures and practices associated with the world of
Japanese bands will be introduced.
14.3 Symbolism in the Band World
Architecture as meaningful, or not. Music scholars have documented the signifi-

cance of architectural space for musical performance.16 Explicit examples of the
Buddhist symbolism associated with Fumon Hall, where the AJBA competition
is held, have been described: the statue of the Buddhist goddess Kannon, and the
use of lotus motifs and colors associated with Japanese Buddhist temples.
Another important symbol is the Asahi newspaper icon, displayed prominently
on the right side of the stage. This symbol consists of one diagonal corner of the
old Japanese wartime flag, which was largely neglected after World War
II. Offices associated with Japan’s most famous wind band (Tokyo Kosei Wind
Orchestra) are housed within the Rissho Kosei Kai campus, of which Fumon
Hall is a part. Nevertheless, within the interview, the AJBA Director insisted that
there are no significant ties with the religious organization.
Competition as natural. In terms of biological and evolutionary argument,
any win/lose contest may be interpreted as a symbolic representation of uni-
versal human characteristics; namely, the timeless theme of competition for
material resources and reproductive partners. Viewed in this way, competition
is most strongly associated with a male gender image, or more specifically, ‘‘the
alpha male’’: the clashing of antlers, and the marking of one’s territory with
strategic sprays of urine are the kinds of images that come to mind. Yet it is this
very relationship that distances competition from what art in the Western
tradition is commonly conceived as embodying: the essence of what separates
human from beast, an image often conveyed as androgynous, or even feminine.
Interestingly, at the final level of the 2002 AJBA competition, all the band
directors and association leaders presenting awards were men, yet most of the
participating performers were girls and women. Among some Japanese band
directors, the very concept of school bands without competition may be difficult
to imagine, and for most, competitive events serve to structure the annual
schedule of their programs.
14.4 Embodiment Metaphors in Band Argot 221
Gold as achievement/Silver as failure. Related to the annual competition was

the belief among Ishikawa Middle School band members that gold and silver
awards truly embody reliable indications of musical achievement. The impor-
tance of this symbolism was reified by other practices: directors of bands that
won gold awards in the previous year wear gold ribbons on their shoulders
while conducting at the AJBA competition, Ishikawa Middle School band
students used gold markers to write ‘‘GOLD’’ on their sheet music, etc. And,
as discussed earlier, silver awards resulted in tears and feelings of inadequacy,
and even guilt, that lingered through the entire academic year.
14.4 Embodiment Metaphors in Band Argot
Each of the aforementioned examples entail specific cases of symbolic meaning

within the world of Japanese bands, however these are not classified as meta-
phors in the strictest sense of the term. Metaphors are most readily apparent
within the spoken discourse of a community, and discourse within the Ishikawa
Middle School band emphasized many special terms and phrases. Tudge
observed that within Vygotskian peer collaborations, ‘‘Words that already
have meaning for mature members of a cultural group come to have those
same meanings for the young of the group in the process of interaction.’’17
Statements from section leaders and other experienced Sempai are easily iden-
tified from among the interview transcripts by way of demonstrating the great-
est communicative competence in terms of frequent use of buraban zokugo
(band slang) terminology. And a particularly striking difference is noticeable
between first- and second-year students in terms of mastery over such subcul-
tural argot. Within their first year of participation in band, most students
quickly learn to ‘‘talk the talk’’ appropriate to the school band setting. Exam-
ples of the explicit use of metaphor within band rehearsals will now be intro-
duced, later proceeding to discussion of metaphors of embodiment.
Putting things in order. The practice of cleaning the Ishikawa Middle School
band room together as an ensemble was described earlier in this book. Several
researchers and other observers have documented the role of students in the
cleaning of Japanese schools. Kuwayama observed that within such school
rituals,
[It] is not the object being cleaned, but rather the mind and the body of the person who
is doing the cleaning, that is important. Thus, seri seiton (putting things in order) is
considered a first step toward moral integrity in Japan. . . . Given the fact that the basic
category of distinction in Shinto is between purity and impurity, we might say that
cleaning has almost a religious meaning in Japan.18
It is also relevant that Japanese baths have gained international attention for
their therapeutic value, and in most traditional families, nightly bathing is a
ritualized practice. By cleaning the band room together, Ishikawa Middle
School students indicated a sense of ‘‘ownership’’ of the ensemble, and of a

family-like community, yet also demonstrated a commitment to maintaining
high standards in terms of social organization.
Kohai are flocked like sheep. This metaphor was repeatedly used by Ishikawa
Middle School band members, and is documented in field notes and preserved in
audio and video recordings. Among the two terms most commonly used to
explain the role of Sempai in relation to Kohai were muragaru (to flock, herd)
and chuui suru (to look after, or watch over). The trumpet part leader’s descrip-
tion was particularly insightful: ‘‘The Bucho [club leader] needs to be somebody
who is able to herd others (muragaru), take care of them, and carry them to the
best way. . . . [The part leaders] need to run the group rehearsals within the
sections, to be able to tend others (chuui suru), and make them become uniform.’’
From her ethnographic study of several preschool and elementary schools, Lewis
concluded that ‘‘Japanese teachers often keep a low profile as authority figures . . .
teachers try to build students’ capacity to self-manage. Children quiet classmates
before lessons, lead class meetings, make class rules, and solve problems that
arise.’’19 On the other hand, Duke critically observed that ‘‘Japanese children
generally learn to ‘sway with the breeze’ in order to maintain group harmony.
The herd instinct at the expense of individuality is an underlying motive in this
society.’’20 Regardless of how one may interpret the broader ethical implications,
it is clear from data collected in the present study that the metaphor of herding
was widely used by cultural insiders to conceptualize mentorship practices estab-
lished within the Ishikawa Middle School band.
Pain promotes progress. The metaphor of pain as a necessary step toward
achievement served as one of the fundamental tropes within Ishikawa Middle
School band rehearsals. There were many indications that physical pain is a
normal outcome to be expected as part of the sacrifice associated with learning
to play an instrument. The bravery associated with endurance of pain through long
rehearsals was widely respected by the band members. Within several sectional
rehearsals I observed young Kohai literally stop playing on their instruments, bring
their hands to their sore faces or tired fingers and softly whimper, ‘‘Ittai’’ (it hurts).
Such behaviors served as the cue for older Sempai to reply with comments like,
‘‘So, so, so. Motto gamman shinakya’’ (Yeah, yeah, that’s right. You must endure it
longer). Within interviews, Ishikawa Middle School band members explained that
through countless repetitions, pain would gradually become less noticeable, and
that further progress could only continue to be made through maintaining a
relentless willingness to keep bravely confronting pain, including that of mental
fatigue and exhaustion due to long hours of rehearsal.
Matching produces beauty. Among the very most common criticisms asso-
ciated with negative feedback from both Kato Sensei (within the gassou context)
and the section leaders (within paatore) was the statement ‘‘Awanai’’, meaning, ‘‘It
doesn’t match.’’ In fact, the most fundamental aesthetic principle promoted
within the school band rehearsals was that ‘‘matching’’ one’s sound that of with
others produces beauty. Rather than sticking out as an individual, it was essential
to blend perfectly with the group. This applied to matching of pitch, and to the
14.4 Embodiment Metaphors in Band Argot 223
balancing of parts within and across instrumental sections. Yet, it also applied
more broadly to other kinds of behaviors. Section leaders were responsible for
ensuring the achievement of unity (danketsu) within their sections. This extended
even to the seating posture and instrument-holding position of players, and the
exact moment at which instruments are positioned to play after a pause within the
music. On several occasions during gassou rehearsals, section leaders of the
Ishikawa Middle School band were observed ‘‘herding’’ their Sempai toward
danketsu through a combination of gestures and whispers.
In addition to such broad metaphors, several common phrases used in the
band context are associated with embodiment, and provide an important
indication of how relationships between mind and body are perceived in this
musical context (Fig. 14.1).
The phrase ‘‘yubi de oboeru’’ (remember by fingers) was often heard in
sectional rehearsals. Particularly, when younger players were first learning
their instruments, this phrase was used by section leaders in explaining how
best to approach scales and other drills. Each instrumental section had a few
exercises (mostly scales and arpeggios) that were commonly used in the sec-
tional rehearsals called kisoren (literally, ‘‘basi-prac,’’ an elision of ‘‘basic’’ and
‘‘practice’’). By use of the phrase, ‘‘remember by fingers’’ younger band mem-
bers were encouraged to practice to the point that the sound would be auto-
matically produced without conscious mental effort. This approach was later
applied to challenging sections of the middle school band repertoire.
‘‘Kokoro de hiku’’ was a phrase commonly used to emphasize the expressive
aspects of performing in the middle school band. This usage seemed similar to
the English phrase, ‘‘play with your heart,’’ and has nearly identical connota-
tions. ‘‘Onaka de fuku’’ (play with your stomach) was also commonly used
within the band to indicate use of the diaphragm for proper breath support,
yet it was also used more broadly to discuss a confident-sounding performance,
reinforced by a sense of strength and firm resolve.
Another common metaphorical phrase was ‘‘ongakuni warewo wasureru’’
(lose oneself in music). This notion was used to praise the concentration evident
among instrumentalists who had managed to reach – or at least convince their
peers that they had reached – a semi-hypnotic state through intense and
prolonged musical repetitions during sectional rehearsals.21 To have reached
this mental state was viewed as an admirable indication of utter devotion to the
Term Literal meaning Functional meaning

1) Yubi de oboeru Remember by fingers Develop manual technique
2) Kokoro de hiku Play through the heart Expressive performance
3) Onaka de fuku Blow through stomach Perform with energy
4) Ongakuni war ewo wasureru Lose oneself in music Rehearse into a trance
5) Kimochiwo shuchusaseru Focus feelings Ultimate concentration
6) Chimo namidamonai No blood or tears Inhuman and uncommitted
Fig. 14.1 Embodiment metaphors from Japanese band expressions

ensemble. Another important metaphor commonly encountered in Japanese

schools that has been identified in previous research is ‘‘kokoro o hitotsu (unite
our hearts, or literally, to make our hearts one).’’22 Although this example was
not explicitly noticed in the Ichikawa Middle School band context, it was
commonly used by interviewees associated with other wind bands.
Ishikawa Middle School band members were also encouraged by Kato
Sensei and section leaders to ‘‘kimochiwo shuchusaseru’’ (focus feelings). This
expression indicated the need to concentrate on the musical phrase with all of
oneself, including a depth of emotion. Students viewed as jeopardizing the
outcome of the ensemble by not committing to a sufficient intensity of effort
in rehearsal were described as ‘‘chimo namidamonai’’ (no blood or tears). This
phrase suggested that such students are not only uncaring and uncommitted,
but even inhumane. Band members were expected to sacrifice themselves, to
experience pain, and invest sufficient emotion to weep for the ensemble when
appropriate. This was particularly clear at the conclusion of important perfor-
mances, when nearly all the Ishikawa Middle School band members would
publicly shed tears. Any band member who was unwilling to endure physical
pain and fatigue, and unable to cry along with the band during its emotional
highs and lows, was perceived as distanced from the very heart of the ensemble.
This possibility becomes a deeply felt realization that inevitably guides actions,
for Japanese researchers have suggested that among Japanese youth, to be cast
as nakama hazure (literally, ‘‘outside the center’’) or sosukan (boycotted, ostra-
cized) may be the very greatest of fears among this age group.23
Notes
1. See McCarthy (1999), p. 186.

2. See McCarthy (1999), p. 186.
3. My interest in this kind of metaphorical analysis was originally inspired by Walser’s (1991)
musical application of the theories of Lakoff and Johnson (1980). Much of this material
appeared in a chapter of my PhD dissertation, completed in 2004 (and published in 2005),
which at the time seemed innovative, but I later learned that other scholars were also taking
a very similar approach to the analysis of metaphor and embodiment in the learning of
Japanese performing arts (Hahn, 2007; Powell, 2004, 2006). Although this realization felt
rather disappointing at first, I eventually understood that to be an immature initial
reaction on my part, since this is merely a sign that both the topic and approach matter,
and are so relevant as to resonate with other scholars working in related areas. Metaphor
has also recently become the main theme of the latest book by a leading music education
philosopher (Jorgensen, 2011). Liora Bresler (2006) has outlined a new model of arts
education research that also coincides with these themes, and has produced a book
containing innovative examples of such approaches (Bresler, 2004). The relevance of this
approach to the case of Japanese classrooms is particularly well illustrated in a statement
by educationist Nobuo Shimahara: ‘‘Gakkyuzukuri, or the creation of community, is the
overriding goal of classroom management. It is inclusive and reflective and enhances self-
management. Students are expected to assume multiple roles to achieve self-management’’
(Shimahara, 2003, p. 387).
References 225
4. See Wenger (1998).

5. See Gordon (1989).
6. See Wenger (1998), p. 45.
7. See Wenger (1998), p. 45. See Heikinheimo (2009) for examples of how the notion of
‘‘community of practice’’ has been applied in the teaching and learning interactions
associated with an elite music conservatory.
8. See Campbell (1998), p. 175.
9. See Jorgensen (2003), p. 30. Elsewhere, Jorgensen (1995) also discusses the theme of
‘‘community’’ in music education.
10. See Lakoff and Johnson (1980), p. 3.
11. See Fernandez (1986), p. 176.
12. See Lakoff and Johnson (1999), p. 288. See Hebert (2009) for discussion of how this
notion may even be applied to uses of music in online and virtual environments.
13. See Lakoff and Johnson (1999), p. 284.
14. See Johnson (1997/1998), p. 95.
15. See Johnson (1997/1998), p. 99.
16. See Small (1998).
17. See Tudge (1990), p. 157.
18. See Kuwayama (1996), p. 121.
19. See Lewis (1995), p. 205.
20. See Duke (1986), p. 33. Sociologist Miyamoto (1995) also takes a similar view.
21. This is by no means an observation new to Japan. Japanese educationist Sugita Katsutaro
reportedly wrote in a teaching manual published in 1902, ‘‘When I play wind instruments
in a music hall and the sound resonates, I forget myself. I have a feeling of purity and
transcendence,’’ as mentioned in Adal (2009), p. 157.
22. See Saito (2004), p. 95.
23. See Shimizu (2000a, 2000b) for detailed discussion of this phenomenon in Japan, and
Crosnoe and Johnson (2011) for a global perspective on the sociology of adolescence.
References
Bresler, L. (Ed.). (2004). Knowing bodies, moving minds: Towards embodied teaching and
learning. Dordrecht: Springer.
Bresler, L. (2006). Embodied narrative inquiry: A methodology of connection. Research
Studies in Music Education, 27, 21–43.
Campbell, P. S. (1998). Songs in their heads: Music and its meaning in children’s lives. New
York: Oxford University Press.
Crosnoe, R., & Johnson, M. K. (2011). Research on adolescence in the twenty-first century.
Annual Review of Sociology, 37, 439–460.
Duke, B. (1986). The Japanese school. New York: Praeger.
Fernandez, J. W. (1986). The argument of images and the experience of returning to the
whole. In V. W. Turner & E. M. Bruner (Eds.), The anthropology of experience (pp.
159–187). Urbana, IL: University of Illinois Press.
Gordon, E. (1989). Learning sequences in music: Skill, content, and patterns. Chicago: GIA
Publications.
Hahn, T. (2007). Sensational knowledge: Embodying culture through Japanese dance. Middle-
town, CT: Wesleyan University Press.
Hebert, D. G. (2009). On virtuality and music education in online environments. (Hungarian

tr., Mariann Abraham) Parlando, 48(4). English version retrieved September 11, 2011,
from http://www.parlando.hu/2009-4.html
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lius Academy, Studia Musica, 40.
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Jorgensen, E. (1995). Music education as community. Journal of Aesthetic Education, 29(3),
71–84.
Jorgensen, E. R. (2003). Transforming music education. Bloomington: Indiana University
Press.
Jorgensen, E. R. (2011). Pictures of music education. Bloomington, IN: Indiana University
Press.
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& Education Quarterly, 27(1), 111–134.
Lakoff, G., & Johnson, M. (1980). Metaphors we live by. Chicago: University of Chicago.
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to western thought. New York: Basic Books.
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tary education. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
University Press.
Miyamoto, M. (1995). Straightjacket society. Tokyo: Kodansha.
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methods, and results (pp. 33–64). Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum.
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Chapter 15
Musical Identity in the Band: Social Class
and Gender
十人十色
Ju nin to iro
‘‘Ten people, ten colors’’ – diversity is inevitable
In addition to description of practices in Japanese school bands, this study also

offered the opportunity to address the role of music more generally within the
lives of Japanese adolescents. Hoffman observed that ‘‘If understandings of self
differ across cultures (as many anthropologists and cultural psychologists
argue), then we should be able to see these differences reflected in educational
practices, and understand the latter better in the light of their relation to
culturally normative views of self.’’1 Researchers have recently argued that
contemporary Western perceptions of the Japanese sense of self (based primar-
ily on positivistic research) are inaccurate, calling for qualitative inquiry into
the perceptions and natural interactions of adolescents in Japanese schools.2
Self-understanding is intrinsically linked to the concept of identity, and music
has been determined to play a fundamental role in identity construction.3
Identity has been defined as ‘‘a person’s perception of his or her place in the
social structure.’’4 Regarding the expression of identity through music, Negus
has noted that ‘‘Songs and musical styles do not simply ‘reflect’, ‘speak to’ or
‘express’ the lives of audience members or musicians. A sense of identity is
created out of and across the processes whereby people are connected together
through and with music.’’5 In other words, interaction with music is a common
means by which young people construct their sense of self in relation to peers.
This notion of musical identity is an important concept for understanding what
participation in a Japanese school band means for its members.
Ishikawa Middle School band members viewed themselves as among the
school’s finest students in terms of academic achievement, an opinion also
endorsed by Kato Sensei and the Kocho Sensei (school principal). School
band members, as a group, were literally described as ‘‘iiko’’ (good kids), a
stereotype that appears to be commonplace among bands throughout Japan.
According to Ishikawa Middle School band members and the band directors of
various schools, ‘‘only good kids like music’’ as an extracurricular activity, and
228 15 Musical Identity in the Band: Social Class and Gender
misbehaving children lack the ‘‘perseverance’’ necessary to keep up with the

band rehearsal schedule. By way of contrast, several Ishikawa Middle School
students identified the school basketball team as the activity for ‘‘bad’’ girls.
Most Ishikawa Middle School band members also indicated that their best
friends are in the band, and that they spend recess time with fellow band
members. Musical identities are often associated with geographic locations,6
but may also be considered in the context of more specific physical locales,
including such club activities. An examination of musical identity within Japa-
nese school bands requires consideration of nationality (to which the entirety of
the next chapter is devoted), as well as the themes for this chapter: social class
and gender.
15.1 Socioeconomic Status
From the descriptions of the Ishikawa Middle School neighborhood and cam-
pus (Chapter 3) and the band budget (Chapter 10), it should be clear that most
band members do not come from wealthy families. As a result, most of the band
instruments are relatively inexpensive models, the majority of the students live
with their families in small apartments, private instrumental teachers are not
regularly hired to visit the school, and most students report that they do not
personally own a substantial collection of music recordings. Most Ishikawa
Middle School band members indicated that their fathers work in blue-collar
professions and service sector industries (restaurants, transportation, etc.),
although some said that they don’t know what kind of work their father does,
and most students reported that their mother has a part-time job. By way of
contrast, in privileged Japanese families, children are typically quite aware of
their father’s respectable profession and the mother does not work outside the
home, although this has begun to change.
Students’ homes were never visited during the course of this research, but it
was clear from the interviews that most Ishikawa Middle School students lived
in small apartments with thin walls, as is typical of the architectural design for
inexpensive housing in Japan; hence, regular instrument practice at home was
not an option. Also, televisions were reportedly left on for much of the evening,
which meant that music listening would require headphones, so as not to
disturb parents or other siblings in such close living quarters. Most Ishikawa
Middle School band members indicated that they had never taken private music
lessons. Most students also reported no family musical activities and an insuffi-
cient budget for the purchase of musical recordings.
Research among Japanese high school students has documented a diversity
of music preferences and musical activities outside the school context.7 Con-
sidering the gargantuan size of Japan’s youth market for musical recordings
and karaoke, it is quite likely that the situation of Ishikawa Middle School band
members in this regard differs with that of students at elite middle schools in
15.1 Socioeconomic Status 229
Tokyo. However, the differences in these findings may also be attributed to

factors outside socioeconomic status, including students’ age (middle school
versus high school), and the intensity of the Ishikawa Middle School band
practice schedule, which leaves little time for additional activities.
In terms of their long-term goals, few Ishikawa Middle School band members
could provide a clear sense of what musical activities they hoped to have in the
future (even in high school) and few indicated plans to attend university, although
several expressed curiosity regarding university life. While the band members
indicated that they were viewed as ‘‘good students’’ within the school, most
admitted that they only rarely have to intensely study. However, some third-
year students indicated that they were studying hard for the entrance exams for a
‘‘good’’ high school. Within interviews, students were asked whether they con-
sidered band music to be associated with wealthy or poor people. Generally, band
members indicated that they either ‘‘don’t know’’ or that it is for ‘‘both.’’ Still,
socioeconomic status was determined to be a significant issue for the band
program in terms of how its budget compared with elite private schools.
Kato Sensei and some of the Ishikawa Middle School band members
admitted that they were envious of the resources associated with other pro-
grams. Visits to several renowned private school band programs in the Tokyo-
area confirmed the existence of significant inequalities, as directors at such
schools seemed to openly flaunt the ‘‘prestigious’’ conservatory affiliation of
professional musicians hired (at expensive rates) to tutor their band students on
particular instruments. However, the Ishikawa Middle School band was cer-
tainly not alone in this regard. Among middle school bands in a 2003 survey
from the Saitama area, only 59% reported higher annual student fees than the
Ishikawa Middle School and over 27% had a significantly smaller annual
budget.8
Despite an awareness of how their situation compared with bands in other
schools, band participation was not determined to play a very significant factor
in terms of socioeconomic aspects of musical identity among Ishikawa Middle
School band members. In other words, the band members did not regard
themselves as either better (or worse) off financially than students participating
in other school activities, and did not view wind band music as symbolic of any
significant socioeconomic themes. This finding was consistent with the notion
of band as a school activity, for Japanese schools are known to promote an
egalitarian image of meritocracy, downplaying the influence of class differences
that nevertheless affect educational opportunities in Japan as much as most
other nations.9
Although social class may be an issue of relevance to some bands, it does not
appear to be a widespread issue for bands throughout Japan. Rather, wind
bands appear to have little or no relationship to socioeconomic status in the
minds of Japanese participants. Still, in the school context, band is widely
considered to be an activity for ‘‘good’’ students relative to other club activities
offered.
15.2 Gender Issues
Gender also tends to play an important role in musical identity. Kato Sensei
was asked a number of questions regarding the role of women in Japan’s band
scene. As one of the few high-profile woman band directors in the Tokyo area,
her perspective seemed important regarding this topic. We discussed the fact
that at the final level of the 2002 AJBA competition, none of the qualifying
ensembles were led by women conductors. Regarding Japanese women con-
ductors she explained, ‘‘Japanese society at large has become much more
welcoming and open to women in most fields. Still, a stereotypical woman
cannot reach higher than normal levels.’’ It was confusing, particularly after
having read previous research, to see so few woman band directors among
bands at the regional and national competition.10 But Kato Sensei explained,
‘‘In middle schools, most of the music teachers are women. And, even if they
don’t like it, they naturally have to lead a school band if there has been one.
That is the situation.’’ Analysis of band competition programs revealed that an
overwhelming majority of the conductors of small bands at the lowest level of
competition were women, while all the conductors of bands at the national level
of competition were men. A search through Japanese university libraries pro-
duced statistics regarding the gender of Japanese middle school teachers asso-
ciated with particular academic subject areas (Fig. 15.1).
Findings from the Benessa Educational Research Institute’s 1997–1998
study (displayed in Fig. 15.1) indicated that there are more than four times
more female than male music teachers in Japanese middle schools.11 In fact, out
of all academic subjects in school, music is the subject that is least likely to be
taught by a male teacher. Women tend to teach languages (Japanese and
English), the arts (music and visual art) and home economics. Also of relevance
to the theme of gender and music were findings from the same (Benessa) study
of sixth grade students in Tokyo, and neighboring Chiba and Saitama prefec-
tures (Fig. 15.2).
Men Women
Subject (%) Subject (%)

Math 16.8 Japanese 20.4
Soc. Studies 16.7 English 17.9
Science 15.2 Home/Tech 10.8
P.E. 14.3 Music 10.5
Japanese 9.9 Math 9
English 9.1 P.E. 8.3
Home/Tech 8.1 Art 6.8
Art 5.2 Science 5.9
Music 2.5 Soc. Studies 5.8
= 100 = 100
Fig. 15.1 Japanese middle school teachers: Gender and subject area
15.2 Gender Issues 231
Fig. 15.2 Favorite school Boys Girls

subject of Japanese 6th Subject (%) Subject (%)
grade students P.E. 60.9 P.E. 24.1
Math 18.7 Music 23.1
Science 6.5 Art 14.4
Art 5.6 Home/Tech 12.5
Japanese 3.7 Japanese 11.5
Soc. Studies 3.7 Science 6.7
Music 0.9 Math 5.8
Home/Tech 0.0 Soc. Studies 1.9
= 100 = 100
Here it is important to recall that academic music courses are quite different
from band, although similarly conceived as ‘‘musical pursuits’’. The difference
in the category of music (0.9% for boys and 23.1% for girls) is comparatively
enormous. Japanese sixth grade girl respondents were over 25 times more likely
than boys to consider music their favorite subject area. The study also found
that the majority of boys, girls, and their parents, do not consider music to be a
subject area with much relevance for students’ future lives, as only 16.4 % of
boys, 20% of girls, and 31% of parents indicated that music is important in
relation to other subject areas. It is notable that nearly twice as many parents as
schoolboys considered music to be relevant. Among parents and boys, only art
was considered less relevant, while girls considered both science and art to be
relatively unimportant.
When questioned about gender imbalance in the school band, Kato Sensei
remarked that ‘‘regarding music there is some prejudice. It is considered femi-
nine.’’ She explained further that ‘‘it is believed in our society that boys should
do sports.’’ Previous research has shown that both boys and girls tend to be
more attracted to sports than the various cultural pursuits offered as extracur-
ricular activities in Japanese schools (band, art, drama, etc.), but this tendency
is most evident among male students.12 Several of these themes were illustrated
through the interviews with male students in the Ishikawa Middle School Band.
One, a third year clarinetist, explained that ‘‘In the case of Japan, boy students
like sports more.’’ Yet, he also indicated that music seems to be a feminine or
girlish thing. When asked what it is like to be one of the only boys in a band full
of girls, he explained that it was ‘‘Strange.’’ Still, he found that there were no
particular problems in terms of prejudice from the female majority.
An interview with another male student, a first-year trumpeter in the Ishi-
kawa Middle School band, was also revealing:
Q: At the time you were considering entering the band club, you saw the club
and it was mostly girls, right? What did you think?
A: Well, do they really want boys to do this, or what?
Q: Was it a scary feeling? If you were the only boy with so many girls, what
kind of a feeling was that?
A: Well, it was not really a scary feeling, but certainly a lonely one.
When asked to explain the gender imbalance commonly observed in Japa-

nese school bands he said, ‘‘Certainly baseball, and tennis, many people are
going into sports, so there are fewer people going into the cultural activities. I
think that is it.’’ One boy explained that there had been a male Sempai on the
same instrumental part as him when he entered the band, which helped him to
feel at ease. In discussions with Kato Sensei, 5 to 10% was the figure that
seemed to accurately represent the participation rates of boys in competitive
Japanese school bands, including the Ishikawa Middle School band with its 5%
male membership. Regarding this gender imbalance, Kato Sensei explained
that ‘‘we really hope more boys will join. It is really sad if there are only girls.
So I hope the boys will start to be more interested in cultural activities instead of
just sports.’’ It appears that this extreme gender imbalance is a relatively recent
development, from just the last few decades, which also happens to be the
period in which Japanese school bands began to attain very high levels of
achievement. Kato Sensei explained, ‘‘Actually, when school bands first became
popular in Japan, they were thought of as a male activity. At that time they
could not even imagine having girls in band.’’ This statement was confirmed
through interviews with several Japanese wind band composers, conductors,
and band association leaders.
In a study of the gender makeup of 170 wind and percussion ensembles from
25 countries, Sheldon and Price determined that ‘‘male participants generally
outnumbered female participants,’’ yet there were a few exceptions, one of
which was particularly noticeable: ‘‘Japan was considerably different with
almost 84% of the instrumentalists being female.’’ Even an analysis of the
AJBA’s own promotional materials indicates this kind of gender imbalance
among Japanese wind bands.13 ‘‘The All-Japan Band Association’’ is written
across the front cover of a pamphlet distributed at the 50th AJBA national
competition, which features five photographs of young band members smiling
and holding their instruments in various settings. A total of 59 girl band
members are shown in the pamphlet’s photos, while only 3 boy students are
pictured (which amounts to a 95% female image of school band participants).
Across from the inside back cover (p. 13) is a photo of an AJBA executive
meeting of men dressed in suits and ties, including the male AJBA president.
This image depicts 28 men along with 1 woman (which amounts to a nearly 97%
male image of leadership). Japanese school bands have become a domain
associated primarily with female students, and it seems likely that women will
increasingly take leadership in the future of Japanese bands.14 Clearly, some of
the finest school bands in the world consist almost entirely of female students,
and in this regard Japanese school bands represent a globally significant model
of musical achievement and leadership among adolescent girls.
It is important to situate this analysis within the recognition that identity
issues are rarely as simple as they appear, since there are typically important
differences between how an individual views herself and the image she strives to
produce for others, which may also vary widely depending upon the ‘‘others’’ in
question. As Hiroshi Aoyagi observed, ‘‘Japanese adolescents are delicately
15.3 Manga, Gaming, and Gender in School Bands 233
situated between how they want to present themselves to the world personally
and how they are expected by others to present themselves in the world.’’15 This
negotiation of personal and social identity often occurs without conscious
awareness. Ann Allison has noted that ‘‘commonsense acceptance of a parti-
cular world is the work of ideology, and it works by concealing the coercive and
repressive elements of our everyday routines but also by making those routines
of the everyday familiar, desirable, and simply our own.’’16
15.3 Manga, Gaming, and Gender in School Bands
Analyses of popular media can provide unique insights into gender identity in
youth culture. One notable example of how Japanese wind bands are portrayed
in popular media is Haruko Kashiwagi’s manga entitled ‘‘Buraburabanban’’, as
well as a 2008 film by the same title, based on the original comic book. The two
volumes of Buraburabanban tell the story of a young male trumpeter who
enters a school band, where he becomes infatuated with a female Sempai who
plays horn and is one of the band club’s leaders. The comic book demonstrates
many familiar aspects of the school band world, including strenuous rehearsals,
a performance at the Fumon Hall (where the AJBA competition is held), and
intense preparations for performances at the generically-named ‘‘Higashi chiku
suisougaku kenkyu happyokai’’ (East District wind band studies concert). The
storyline contains vivid scenes of daily life in a Japanese school band, ranging
from mundane details such as buzzing on mouthpieces to verbal exchanges
during rehearsals that demonstrate the severity of some Japanese band con-
ductors.17 While much of what occurs in Buraburabanban is typical to any
Japanese school band, there are also some obvious sexual undertones. The story
gradually attains its focus on the horn-playing Sempai who turns out to have an
unusual condition, in that whenever the music starts to sound very good, she
becomes so aroused that she has difficulty maintaining her composure. As she
conducts, her shirt mysteriously falls off at the very moment she seems to
become most enraptured in the blissful music – a response that the male band
members clearly enjoy. This scene is included in the movie version, but carefully
edited to avoid overt nudity. At another point, the same character becomes so
excited by the mere sound of expressively played wind band music that she
eventually cannot bear it any longer and aggressively mounts the ‘‘nerdy’’
(otaku) young male trumpeter protagonist and begins undressing.18
Interestingly, the school band featured in Buraburabanban spends much of its
time rehearsing a wind band arrangement of Maurice Ravel’s ‘‘Bolero.’’ It is
surely no coincidence that Bolero is widely perceived to be an unusually ‘‘sexy’’
piece of classical music, both in Japan and western nations. According to a survey
of 10,000 people in the UK, it is the only piece of classical music that placed
among the top ten songs that people like to listen to while having sex, closely
following songs by Marvin Gaye.19 An advertisement for the Tokyo Kosei Wind
Orchestra’s recording of Bolero is included on the inside cover of the first volume
of the Burabura Banban manga,20 and its readers are encouraged to listen to a
definitive wind band version of the very same piece that became so exciting for the
female horn-player that she could no longer control herself.
This certainly raises some unexpected questions: Can school bands possibly
be sexy? If so, what might this suggest about gender roles and music in Japanese
society? As a researcher interested in cultural differences, it is challenging to
determine how best to attempt an interpretation of this kind of product, yet in
the USA there certainly seems to be a parallel development in the controversial
‘‘American Pie’’ comedy movie series, which features many crude jokes about all
the inappropriate activities that allegedly occurred at high school ‘‘band
camp.’’21 Still, an even more surprising example of how gender is constructed
by popular media in the sphere of Japanese school bands may be found in a
videogame entitled ‘‘Buraban!’’, as mentioned at the very beginning of this
book. Buraban! was released in 2006 by a company called Yuzu-Soft, and the
popularity of this videogame soon led to the release of an updated version in
2008. Upon seeking the company’s website, one quickly learns that it is neces-
sary to be 18 years of age or older to even enter the website, and according to
some internet chat rooms, Yuzu-Soft has blocked all access to its website from
computers located outside of Japan. Nevertheless, any innocent Internet search
(using Japanese terminology) for random images of school band musicians still
tends to retrieve various scenes from this videogame, which features manga-
style drawings of playful schoolgirls performing on wind band instruments and
engaging in various sexual activities. While this author chose not to explore the
Yuzu-Soft product any further, the mere idea of its existence seemed baffling at
times, indicating something curious and elusive about gender and the school
band experience. Clearly, manga, movies, videogames, and related products
that convey Japanese school bands have some impact on how the broader
significance of these ensembles come to be understood in popular culture.
Both Buraburabanban and Buraban! seem to convey Japanese male fantasies
associated with the virtually all-female sphere of school bands. It is conceivable
that the media projection of such images can be most meaningfully compared
with cheerleading or other emotive activities (in other nations) that are almost
exclusively reserved for girls.
One other film that bears mention here is ‘‘Swing Girls’’, which compared to
the previous examples offers a much richer view of the lives of girls in a Japanese
school band, although the band in this case is a jazz ensemble.22 Swing Girls
demonstrates how Kohai entering a school band are initiated into a visceral
awareness of the kind of breath support necessary to effectively play wind
instruments, with memorable scenes of students buzzing on mouthpieces, indivi-
dually blowing tissues against a wall so they are sustained for several seconds, and
even forcefully inhaling air from plastic bottles until the bottles collapse. It is
interesting to note that the Yamaha music school is where even this school jazz
band’s own teacher secretly took music lessons. The story also emphasized the
importance of investing in new, high quality musical instruments. The jazz band
began rehearsing with some used instruments that kept falling apart and students
Notes 235
were repeatedly advised to find some way to buy new instruments. The girls tried
various kinds of part-time jobs to raise the money to buy new instruments, but
kept failing. It is quite interesting to note that the preexisting wind band at the
same school (unlike their own jazz band) was very well supported: provided with
nice bento (school lunches), expensive instruments, and even support for touring.
The Swing Girls school jazz band was mostly led by a serious and hard-working
student named Sekiguchi, but its other members were regarded as ‘‘bad girls,’’
many of whom used crude language. Nevertheless, through the project of devel-
oping a school jazz band, they were gradually able to learn teamwork skills and
accomplish something deeply meaningful. Unlike the previous examples of media
representations, Swing Girls demonstrates that schoolgirls can overcome difficult
odds and achieve great things if they are resourceful and determined, and work
hard to form a cooperative and supportive team.
15.4 Concluding Thoughts
Much of the angst of adolescence surely stems from a healthy questioning of

authority and its system of putatively ‘‘normal’’ expectations imposed by pre-
vious generations for whom its system is taken for granted and assumed to be
common sense, perhaps even beautiful in terms of its rituals and traditions. In
constructing a personal identity, the individual agent struggles to make sense of
the society in which she is situated, a process within which music often plays an
important role. However, as Sherry Ortner has noted, according to contempor-
ary social theory, individuals are ‘‘never free agents, not only in the sense that
they do not have the freedom to formulate and realize their own goals in a social
vacuum, but also in the sense that they do not have the ability to fully control
those relations toward their own ends. As truly and inescapably social beings,
they can only work within the many webs of relations that make up their social
worlds.’’23 In the end, all that music can offer in this regard is a glimpse of new
possibilities, and new ways to articulate one’s hopes and dreams in a social
world that provides few fairy tale endings and may often seem all too human. At
the end of the day, it becomes up to the individual to make what can be made of
such surroundings. Japanese adolescents, like those in any other nation, face a
world of uncertainty, but music serves as one of their most important ways of
discovering more about themselves and the world around them.
Notes
1. See Hoffman (1998), p. 337. Also see Davidson and Burland (2006) for discussion of
identity formation among musicians, Gee (2000/2001) for discussion of how and why to
research identity in educational contexts, and Hebert and Campbell (2000) for analysis of
youth identity and popular music in education.
2. See Gjerde and Onishi (2000), Shimizu (2000a), and Shimizu (2000b).
3. See MacDonald, Hargreaves, and Miell (2002).

4. See Whiting (1990), p. 357. Identity has also been defined by sociologists as ‘‘the set of
meanings that define who one is when one is an occupant of a particular role in society, a
member of a particular group, or claims particular characteristics that identify him or her
as a unique person’’(Burke & Stets, 2009, p. 3). In defining the process of ‘‘identification,’’
Stuart Hall explains that it entails ‘‘recognition of some common origin or shared
characteristics with another person or group’’ (1996, p. 2), yet he cautions that it is ‘‘a
construction, a process never completed – always ‘in process’,’’ and adds that it should be
understood as ‘‘not an essentialist, but a strategic and positional’’ construction (p. 3). See
Owens, Robinson, and Smith-Lovin (2010) for an insightful comparison of three major
sociological orientations to the phenomenon of identity.
5. See Negus (1997), p. 133. Additionally, according to Simon Frith, ‘‘Music constructs our
sense of identity though the direct experiences it offers of the body, time and sociability,
experiences which enable us to place ourselves in imaginative cultural narratives’’ (Frith,
1996, p. 124).
6. See Stokes (1994) for detailed discussion. Identity has been a major theme in ethnomu-
sicological research for the past few decades, but it has arguably lacked a cohesive
theoretical approach (Rice, 2010).
7. This issue is explored among Japanese high school students by Koizumi (2002).
8. This is discussed in an unpublished survey by Y. Miyamoto (2003).
9. See Okano and Tsuchiya (1999) for comprehensive discussion.
10. I am referring here to a doctoral dissertation by Miyamoto (1997) that despite its focus on
gender mentions surprisingly little regarding the extreme gender imbalance observed
among Japanese school bands.
11. See Fukuyama, Tsuchihashi, Inoue, and Tsuruma (1998).
12. See Sato (1997), p. 32. A more recent survey, with over 15,000 student participants, has
produced similar results (Benesse Corporation, 2009).
13. For international-comparative discussion of the gender makeup of wind bands, see
Sheldon and Price (2005), p. 46. The other data mentioned here is from a 14-page
pamphlet entitled ‘‘The All-Japan Band Association’’ that was distributed within all the
concert programs at the 50th AJBA national competition in 2002, the purpose of which is
to introduce the AJBA and its activities.
14. Recent scores from a major research study of American high school students also suggest
that girls relative to boys are ‘‘more involved in music (0.33 versus 0.21, p < 0.001)’’
(Downey & Vogt Yuan, 2005, p. 310). Such gender issues are of increasing concern to
music educators in Europe and the United States. As Gladwell (2007) has explained, ‘‘The
world of classical music – particularly in its European home – was until very recently the
preserve of white men. Women, it was believed, simply could not play like men. They
didn’t have the strength, the attitude, or the resilience for certain kinds of pieces’’
(pp. 248–249). Interestingly, ‘‘Before the advent of blind auditions, the percentage of
women in major symphony orchestras in the United States was less than 5%. Today,
25 years later, it’s close to 50%’’ (p. 273). Despite such dramatic changes, the world of
classical music continues to be a challenging domain for even the most gifted of women
performers in Europe and North America (Tindall, 2005). See Green (2010) for further
theoretical discussion of the role of gender in music education.
15. See Aoyagi (2005), p. 65.
16. See Allison (1991), p. 196.
17. See Kashiwagi (1999) p. 52 for images of buzzing on mouthpieces, and p. 155 for
discussion of Fumon Hall. Also, see Kashiwagi (2000) p. 37 for discussion of the local
band competition, and pp. 122–126 for a tense rehearsal sequence in which the director
requires an alto saxophonist to repeat her part many times in front of the entire band and
eventually dismisses the student with a statement that may be translated as ‘‘we don’t need
you . . . get out of here.’’
References 237
18. See Kashiwagi (1999), pp. 60–74.

19. See The Age (2002).
20. See Kashiwagi (1999).
21. American Pie (1999).
22. See Swing Girls: Girls Meet Jazz!!! (2004).
23. See Ortner (2006), p. 152.
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Chapter 16
National Identity in the Japanese School Band
出る杭は打たれる
Deru kuiwa utareru
‘‘The nail that stands out gets pounded’’ – nonconformity
is hazardous
16.1 The Kimigayo Incident
It seemed there had never before been such tension in the band room. In fact,
this was the only case of a disciplinary problem observed in the band during the
entire period of fieldwork at Ishikawa Middle School. It took several repeated
viewings of the video content to fully grasp the true meaning of what had
occurred. The band had just finished rehearsing St. Anthony Variations (by
William Hill), a complex piece requiring a high level of technical ability that
would make it suitable repertoire for many American university wind bands.
Kato Sensei then had the students take out their sheet music parts for Kimi-
gayo, the Japanese national anthem. Kimigayo is a very slow and simple song
that consists of half notes and quarter notes in a narrow range, technically the
very simplest piece in the band’s entire repertoire. Kato Sensei conducted the
band through Kimigayo, from beginning to end. Surprisingly, most of the
clarinet section members never lifted their instruments to playing position for
this song, and instead sat silently through the entire piece. I recall thinking that
the expressions of the clarinet players seemed unusual at this point, with very
solemn faces and eyes pointing toward the ground, occasionally stealing glances
at one another.
Kato Sensei clearly noticed the unusual behavior of the clarinet section, but
quickly responded to it by conducting with far greater enthusiasm than ever
before, standing up from her seated position and extending her arms in wider
gestures, and finally ending the piece with a clear cut-off. Then, without any
pause, she immediately began scolding the clarinetists in the front row. Kato
Sensei glared at specific students, one by one, tapping the music stand with her
baton for emphasis, one tap for each student as she spoke forcefully to each of
them, ‘‘You’re not playing, you’re not playing, you’re not playing. You’re not
240 16 National Identity in the Japanese School Band
playing this song at all. Why?’’ After a short pause, the clarinet section leader
fumbled to give an answer. ‘‘Well, we . . .’’
Kato Sensei interrupted her very slow attempt to provide some kind of
explanation. ‘‘Did I say not to play this song?’’ she insisted. There was no
reply. The band room became utterly silent. After a pause, Kato Sensei con-
tinued, ‘‘I see . . . it is because the rule about first year students, that you cannot
play unless you know your part well. Is that it?’’ Instead of the usual chorus of
voices immediately responding to her authority with an affirming ‘‘Hai!’’, Kato
Sensei faced only the complete silence of the band room. All students appeared
to be intensely focusing on the interaction between Kato Sensei and the clarinet
section. I panned my video camera to capture the serious expressions on the
faces of band members.
Kato Sensei continued, her voice becoming louder, ‘‘Well, we must at least
play this song for the entrance ceremony in April. It will be a problem if we
can’t. We absolutely must do it. Surely you realize this is completely hopeless!
You are not showing enthusiasm.’’ She paused, and after a few more moments
of intense silence she continued with a gentler voice: ‘‘The Sempai must teach
the first-year students. If you cannot perfectly match (awanai), it is still okay,
but we must play this. Am I mistaken about this?’’ ‘‘No, you are not mistaken,’’
the clarinet section leader responded. ‘‘Right. I didn’t think I was. Now, let’s
take out Swan Lake,’’ Kato Sensei concluded.
This brief event proved to be among the very most interesting observations
of the Ishikawa Middle School band during this research, since many important
issues were encapsulated into the space of a few minutes. Fortunately, every-
thing was recorded on videotape, and I was able to watch it repeatedly and
review the video with Japanese scholars to ensure that my interpretations were
accurate.
16.2 National Identity and Music
Before moving to interpretation of the ‘‘Kimigayo Incident’’ described above, it

is useful to first address some broader issues. One critically important aspect of
musical identity that must be considered in this analysis is nationality. Social
psychologist David Hargreaves and colleagues have observed that ‘‘our sense of
belonging to a nation can be communicated through music,’’ as ‘‘national
anthems and the educational environment in which children learn about
music are both very influential in developing and sustaining our national
identities.’’1 Folkestad has even asserted that ‘‘every idea emphasizing national
identity in music education becomes not only an educational but also a political
statement.’’2 For such reasons, national identity, and the song Kimigayo in
particular – the first important wind band composition in Japan – must be
discussed in this book; however, it should also be noted that the history of
Kimigayo is extremely controversial, and it is even regarded as a taboo topic
that many Japanese scholars hesitate to write about for fear of becoming
16.2 National Identity and Music 241
targeted by right-wing extremists. This chapter will address the role of national
identity in Japanese wind bands from several angles.
Foreigners in the band. The fact that two Ishikawa Middle School band
members were non-Japanese seemed an important issue to consider in terms
of national identity. Non-Japanese children and kikoku shijo (‘‘returnees’’, or
Japanese who have lived abroad) have been reported as common targets of
bullying in Japan. In his analysis of the experiences of foreigners in Japanese
middle schools McConnell concluded, ‘‘we cannot ignore the fact that cultural
nationalism and xenophobia still exist as factors in modern Japanese ideology.’’3
However, within the Ishikawa Middle School band, the non-Japanese members
gave no indication of any difficulties associated with their nationality. To the
contrary, both students reported strong friendships within the ensemble. At no
point during the year did any observations suggest that the non-Japanese
students were treated unfairly or ostracized by their peers. In fact, they seemed
to be among the more popular members of the ensemble. When asked about the
experience of foreign students within the ensemble, Kato Sensei explained that
it was the same as the Japanese students. Kato Sensei observed that ‘‘for one
student – her father is a foreigner [Iranian] and her mother is Japanese – it is
pure and natural for first year students to ask about her background. But by the
time they become second year students there are no more questions about that,
and she has become one of them. The reason that she is no longer [viewed as]
different is that she is half Japanese and speaks Japanese well, and is able to put
in the same level of effort [gambaru] as a normal Japanese.’’
Nationality in Japanese education. A sense of Japanese identity was con-
structed in various ways through the Ishikawa Middle School band, some of
which were resisted by its members. As comparative educationists have observed:
large portions of the Japanese teaching force have vigorously opposed attempts to re-
instate moral education linked with pre-war nationalism; have rejected the re-
introduction of the national flag and the national anthem, again on grounds that
they were symbols associated with pre-war nationalism; and have agitated for more
liberal and international education.4
Within the Japanese system of school education, a sense of national identity

is officially conveyed through the social studies curriculum, in addition to moral
education and other practices associated with extracurricular club activities.
Currently, only history textbooks with strategic wordings that accommodate
for patriotic interpretations are permitted by the government for use in Japa-
nese schools, a situation that has been widely debated both within Japan and its
neighboring nations.5
In 1997, after 32 years of court proceedings, historian Saburo Ienaga (a
Nobel peace prize nominee) became the first person to obtain partial admission
from the Japanese government that some of its censorship of history textbooks
has been inappropriate, albeit regarding a single point among the many dis-
puted. At issue was the concern that inclusion of certain facts ‘‘would lead
children to conclude that Japan was once a colonial power.’’6 The truism that
Japan has been a colonial power in Asia is debated nowhere but within Japan
itself. Some understanding of this unusual context is necessary in order to fully
grasp the deep significance of recent legislation requiring the national anthem
‘‘Kimigayo’’ to be performed in Japanese schools, typically to the accompani-
ment of a school band.
16.3 Interpretation of the Kimigayo Incident
In order to fully understand the deeper meaning of the ‘‘Kimigayo Incident’’

described at the start of this chapter, one must be aware of three components
within this intense interaction that spanned only a few minutes: musical, cultural,
and political dimensions. The music of Kimigayo is technically far too simple to
allow for any valid excuses in terms of musical technique. Any band capable of
playing the previous piece with the level of competence in which it was played
would surely have no trouble performing Kimigayo. Nevertheless, in an exemp-
lary demonstration of Japanese-style classroom management skills, Kato Sensei
cleverly volunteered that a musical problem had been encountered, enabling her
to avoid the possibility of any conflict that could result from publicly admitting
the political dimension of what had actually occurred: refusal to perform a
controversial piece. In this case, as in many of the most intense moments in
Japanese discourse, the truly significant aspect of this interaction is actually
located in what was intentionally left unsaid due to the practice of enryo (restraint)
and tatemae (artificial image projected in public domains).
Why would a group of Japanese middle school clarinet players refuse to
perform their own national anthem in a school band? And why would their
band director imply that the reason for their refusal could be that the music for
Kimigayo was too difficult? An examination of the meaning of Kimigayo will
shed light on this situation. The lyrics of Kimigayo (‘‘The Reign of Our Lord’’)
consist of five short phrases in an archaic Japanese poetic style (tanka), and the
entire form is typically repeated at least once in performance. The lyrics are
transliterated as follows:
Kimi ga yo wa
Chiyo ni yachiyo ni
Sazare ishi no
Iwao to nari te
Koke no musu made.
In English, these lines may be roughly translated as follows:

May the Emperor’s reign continue
For a thousand, nay eight thousand generations
For the eternity it takes for a tiny pebble
To grow into a boulder
All covered with moss
16.3 Interpretation of the Kimigayo Incident 243
Kimigayo has been consistently included in Japan’s school music textbooks

since the first textbook was published in 1881, based on the collaboration of
Shuji Isawa and Luther Whiting Mason (see Chapter 2). Its words are in many
respects similar to ‘‘God Save the Queen’’, and other Western anthems, yet
there are even stronger implications to be considered. In traditional Japanese
belief, the Emperor (unlike many Queens) was considered an omnipotent,
immortal being, or living god. And, appropriate to an immortal being des-
tined to rule an entire race, the lyrics of this song are understood to embrace
the idea that the Emperor’s life and absolute command over Japan should (or
will) last for eternity. Even today, the Emperor serves as the ultimate symbol
of Japan’s jougekankei system of social hierarchy. And, the music of Kimigayo
is permanently etched into the memory of older Japanese as the musical
accompaniment for the wartime aggression they have tried so hard to forget.7
Music scholars have documented Japan’s use of Kimigayo as a required song
in its colonial schools, including areas that are now South Korea and Taiwan.8
Due to its meaning and historical usage, participation in the singing of this
song is considered antithetical to the beliefs of many contemporary residents
of Japan, including non-Japanese children, Christians, Moslems, Hindus,
Jews, and even ethnic Japanese with extremely democratic or internationalist
ideals.
In Kimigayo, Japan is faced with a highly complex and unusual situation.
The majority of nations to experience truly revolutionary regime change in
the twentieth century opted for the designation of a new national anthem
along with other icons to replace the defunct symbols associated with pre-
vious eras. The national anthem of Russia, which was amended several times
over the past century, is a particularly illustrative example.9 Resistance
against Kimigayo was strong for two generations, yet it has been gradually
dying away at the very time the government is pressing to reintroduce it as a
requirement in schools. Anthropologist Takie Sugiyama Lebra observed that
‘‘Most Japanese are apathetic, if not hostile, toward the two major symbols of
the nation-state – the national flag (hinomaru) and the national anthem
(‘Kimigayo’), which celebrates the ever-lasting imperial reign. Despite the
antipathy of those who associate these symbols with Japan’s wartime aggres-
sion and oppression, they were nevertheless legally sanctioned in 1999,
against strong protest.’’10
But how ‘‘strong’’ could such protests become in a nation like Japan?
According to the Shoso Shinbun newspaper, 58-year-old Ishikawa Toshihiro,
principal of Hiroshima Kenritsu Sera High School, finally resorted to commit-
ting suicide on February 28, 1999 in protest of the new government requirement
that all Japanese school students and faculty sing the national anthem and recite
the pledge of allegiance.11 The new law required Principal Ishikawa to lead
these controversial activities, which were vigorously opposed by the teacher’s
union. Had he failed to do so, Ishikawa would have been fired from his job.12
On the day before one of the newer Kimigayo enforcement laws was enacted,
the Mainichi Shinbun newspaper dedicated a high-profile article to discussion of
the raging debate. The newspaper confirmed that the national anthem was still
viewed by many as a ‘‘sinryaku sensouno shinborudata’’ (symbol of militaristic
invasions), and included discussion of the possible option of performing only
the melody without its accompanying lyrics.13
Despite such concerns, neoconservatives within the Japanese government
continued to push their nationalistic agenda, even since the time this case study
fieldwork on the Ishikawa band concluded. According to the October 24, 2003
edition of Japan Times, ‘‘The Tokyo Metropolitan Government board of
education said Thursday it will punish public school teachers who refuse to
raise the Hinomaru flag and sing ‘Kimigayo’ at school ceremonies. . . . Teachers
who do not comply ‘will be punished’ under the new rules, whereas the old rules
had stipulated that they ‘may be punished’.’’14 The ‘‘old rules’’ were enacted as
recent as 1999 to the dismay of many educators, and this more recent move was
predicted by many as the next step in the Japanese government’s agenda, a
gradual return to nationalistic policy.
On April 6, 2004, the Yomiuri Shinbun newspaper announced that the Tokyo
Board of Education had just issued disciplinary citations to 20 teachers asso-
ciated with public elementary schools, middle schools, and special education
schools.15 The citations (which lead to fines and/or dismissal from their posi-
tions) are for failing to stand and sing Kimigayo along with other teachers and
students at their school graduation ceremonies. According to the report, along
with the numbers from public high schools, a total of 195 teachers had been
cited for this offense by April 6, 2004.16 By May of 2004, police in Itabashi
(the Ishikawa Middle School neighborhood) had raided the home of a retired
high school teacher after he distributed flyers questioning the new Kimigayo
legislation.17 Also in May of 2004, the education board of Fukuoka Prefecture
sent out inspectors to monitor the loudness of the singing of Kimigayo in
schools, as soft singing could be perceived as an indication of insufficient
enthusiasm, which would require immediate disciplinary action.18
This situation continued to escalate with similar reports across the following
years. On March 6, 2007, the Japan Times reported that ‘‘The Tokyo metropo-
litan board of education punished a high school teacher Monday who refused to
play the piano accompaniment to the ‘Kimigayo’ national anthem during a
school ceremony in November.’’ This punishment was for an offence in 2006,
but it had taken several months for the case to make its way through the legal
system. According to the article, this punishment included a ‘‘10% pay cut’’ and
‘‘Toru Kondo, a representative of 230 teachers who have been punished under
the directive, predicted that the board of education will undoubtedly issue more
penalties later this month against teachers who refuse to comply.’’19 Clearly,
these examples demonstrate that unlike common stereotypes, many Japanese
are capable of saying ‘‘no’’ to authority when unlawful demands are made, and
these kinds of controversies suggest that despite any claims of freedom and
democracy, human rights can be violated as much in Japanese schools as in
schools of many other nations.
16.4 Kimigayo Outside of School 245
16.4 Kimigayo Outside of School
An entirely different sense of the meaning of Kimigayo in contemporary

Japan was encountered in a rock concert I attended in July 2003 at the
Zoujouji Temple in the heart of downtown Tokyo. Thousands of young
Japanese flocked to this free outdoor concert featuring Imawano Kiyoshiro,
former lead vocalist of R.C. Succession, which was among Japan’s most
influential rock bands of the 1970s and 80 s.20 At the concert, Imawano
Kiyoshiro performed numerous American rock ‘‘covers’’ from the 1960s and
70 s, using his own Japanese translations of the English words as lyrics. But the
song that most excited the audience was his rendition of Kimigayo, a version
that had been banned as subversive by the Japanese government when the
record was originally released. The controversy was based on his use of a
clever pun to assert that Japan belongs to the Japanese people, rather than the
Emperor.
In its original usage, the ‘‘kimi’’ of kimigayo is an ancient term referring to
the omnipotence of the Emperor, much like how ‘‘diadem’’ and ‘‘your highness’’
were used in ancient English to indicate royalty. However, in modern spoken
Japanese ‘‘kimi’’ is most commonly used as a casual/familiar term to indicate
‘‘you.’’21 Playing upon these nuances, Imawano Kiyoshiro parodied the mean-
ing of Kimigayo to imply paternalism. He changed the final lines of the song
into ‘‘Oredayo!’’ This phrase, which cleverly matches ‘‘Kimigayo’’ in both
rhythm and rhyme, is translated directly into English as ‘‘It’s me!’’, yet in
Japanese the phrase carries a very colloquial and vernacular nuance, as though
speaking to close friends or family. Considering the level of formality associated
with the original text, composed in honor of Japan’s immortal and omnipotent
Emperor, the connotations of this irreverent pun are profound, even exceeding
the irony conveyed by the Sex Pistols’ infamous punk record, ‘‘God Save the
Queen’’.
Imawano Kiyoshiro performed ‘‘Oredayo’’ at a raging tempo with distorted
guitar and intense drums. Audience members swarmed around the stage and
jumped up and down wildly as the song progressed. Toward the end he called
out, ‘‘Japan is not the Emperor’s. It’s me. It’s you. It’s you and you and you.
Ours! We are Japan.’’ Here, he enthusiastically pointed out at audience mem-
bers who cheered in response.
This satirical version of Kimigayo, despite its controversial nature, seems to
resonate most truly with the spirit of contemporary Japan’s youth. It is telling
that ‘‘Oredayo’’ was enthusiastically received by young rock fans, while in this
study, I was unable to find a single Ishikawa Middle School student who
enjoyed performing Kimigayo at school. As part of the interview process, the
band members were asked what they thought about Kimigayo. It was univer-
sally disliked, although few seemed able to explain its meaning in detail. The
feeling of playing Kimigayo was described as ‘‘moody, kind of dark and
gloomy.’’ None of the Ishikawa Middle School band members were able to
describe the meaning of Kimigayo’s lyrics within our interviews. The feelings of
most band members echoed the sentiments of one of the section leaders:
Q: What kind of feeling do you have when playing Kimigayo?
A: I don’t really like it, but we perform Kimigayo as a courtesy.22
Due to the Tokyo Board of Education’s enforcement of Kimigayo, some
school principals even became nervous regarding the possibility that their
school band might not cooperate with its required performance at the two
most important events of the academic year: opening ceremony and graduation
ceremony. According to one Tokyo middle school principal with whom this
concern was discussed in 2006, a MIDI (electronic) version of Kimigayo was
distributed among several Tokyo band directors to keep on hand as an emer-
gency backup plan in case half or more of their band suddenly decided not to
participate. The MIDI version would supplement the sound of a smaller group
of musicians, enabling them to still project the image of a larger ensemble. In
this way, the public image (tatemae) of order and obedience may be maintained,
and nobody will lose their job as a result.
16.5 Interpretation of National Identity
Ample data indicate that aspects of the AJBA competition have promoted a
nationalistic identity for wind band music at various points in history, which is
unsurprising considering that most any wind band in the world may to some
extent trace its lineage to military bands.23 The competition caters exclusively to
Japanese bands, and participation in the competition serves as a key event in the
annual schedule of most Japanese school and community bands. Moreover, all of
the adjudicators at the competition are Japanese, and Japanese composers are
commissioned to write the required pieces each year in an idiom that has become
recognizable as a national style. Western influences receive little mention in the
35-page history of Japanese bands inserted into the program of 50th AJBA
competition. Furthermore, when interviewed for this study, the AJBA Director
explicitly asserted that ‘‘band has become a Japanese thing’’ (Chapter 8).
Despite the points mentioned above, an internationalist agenda may also be
read into many aspects of Japan’s wind band scene. For example, it is quite
notable that the repertoire represented by the ‘‘free pieces’’ performed in the
AJBA competition is quite cosmopolitan in nature. Furthermore, the Asia-
Pacific Band Directors Association and publications such as Band Journal
clearly attempt to bring a more global awareness to the Japanese band com-
munity, and the wind band idiom itself (relative to some other musical activ-
ities) enables Japanese students to participate in a form of music that is common
throughout much of the world. In other words, although the system is strongly
nationalistic in some respects, there are also many indications of a genuine
interest in international exchange, and despite historical motivations, the
Notes 247
current impetus for wind bands in Japanese schools does not appear to be any
more nationalistic than the arguments originally used to promote the educa-
tional use of shoka school songs or, more recently, the instruments of traditional
Japanese music (hogaku).24 In fact, it is quite interesting to note in closing that
the recent reforms requiring performance of traditional Japanese instruments in
public schools – which Henry Johnson has described as a ‘‘state imposed
rediscovery of an imagined roots’’ – are closely tied to a broader educational
policy agenda of instilling a stronger sense patriotism and national identity
across the curriculum.25 According to Roy Starrs, at the start of the twenty-first
century, music became ‘‘one of the cultural objects privileged by those nation-
alists who wish to replace ‘modern Western’ instruments with ‘traditional
Japanese’ ones as a compulsory part of the school curriculum.’’26 Contrary to
the ideologies that have typically undergirded promotion of non-western music
in Western nations, such as multiculturalism, the recent interest in Japanese
traditional instruments is aligned with opposing perspectives. As Henry John-
son’s has described it, ‘‘The place of hogaku in music education points to
cultural nationalism. It is a celebration of what was historically a small part
of Japanese culture that was restricted in pre-Meiji times to a small portion of
the society,’’ and ‘‘Such a process not only reinvents tradition, but it also
reinvents culture.’’27 It seems therefore quite important to assess the broader
context of nationalism and music as a global phenomenon before reaching
definitive conclusions regarding the extent of nationalism evident in the music
education system of a particular nation, or a specific genre, such as the wind
band idiom, which is one reason why more international-comparative study is
certainly needed. Here it is also quite illuminating to consider Yoshino’s
insightful observation that ‘‘Ironically, nationalism – in the sense of raising
national consciousness, cultivating national identity, and stressing Japan’s
culture and tradition – is promoted in the name of the internationalization of
Japan.’’28 Although aspects of wind band performance arguably promote
nationalism in Japan, this instrumental genre may actually be rather less
nationalistic in general than many other forms of music that can (and are)
being brought into schools in Japan and other nations around the world.
Notes
1. See Hargreaves, MacDonald, and Miell (2002), p. 17.

2. See Folkestad (2002), p. 158. Mans (2009, p. 98) also notes that ‘‘cultural identities can be
seen as politicized constructs’’ with implications for both action and meaning-making in
‘‘musical worlds.’’
3. See McConnell (1999), p. 62.
4. See Zeng and LeTendre (1999), p. 111.
5. For a general introduction to this issue, see French (2001). See Barnard (2003) and Muller
(2011) for rigorous analysis of Japanese history textbooks and discussion of the contro-
versies surrounding them. Remarkably similar problems have recently arisen in the United
States (Birnbaum, 2010; McKinley, 2010).
6. See Bergman (1997).

7. As Raja Adal has noted regarding Kimigayo, ‘‘by the end of the World War Two it was
considered by many a symbol of the militaristic nationalism and emperor worship that led
Japan into war’’ (Adal, 2009, p. 109).
8. See Southcott and Lee (2003).
9. See Daughtry (2003).
10. See Lebra (2004), p. 263.
11. See Shoso Shinbun (1999, February 28).
12. These developments have been discussed by other scholars (Aspinall & Cave, 2001;
Matsunobu, 2009a, 2009b; Yamada, 2004). Yamada (2004) mentioned the Kimigayo
suicide incident and concluded with a safely worded, diplomatically vague suggestion that
objectivity should be possible in the teaching of Japan’s national anthem.
13. See Mainichi Shinbun (1999, June 28).
14. See Japan Times (2003, October 24).
15. See Yomiuri Shinbun (2004, April 6).
16. See Yomiuri Shinbun (2004, April 6).
17. See Japan Times (2004, May 22).
18. See Japan Times (2004, May 31).
19. See Hongo (2007).
20. See Stephens (2008), p. 23.
21. The nuance of kimi in Japanese is somewhat like tu in French, in contrast to vous which
conversely resembles anata in Japanese.
22. To this author it seemed unfortunate that Japanese students were required to per-
form a piece of music that was so uninspiring for them, yet this resembles familiar
practices that many American music students have endured for generations in
school ‘‘pep assemblies’’. Like personal pride and esteem, it may be that a modicum
of nationalism – or group pride – is healthy and useful in some circumstances.
However, there appears to be little convincing philosophical support for the use of
patriotism as an objective for music education. Nevertheless, this issue seems to
have represented a perennial obstacle for music teachers in an array of nations
(Hebert, 2006).
23. Anthropologists have documented the role that the ‘‘military band playing (Western)
martial music’’ plays even in recent years within live-fire exercises among Japan’s self
defense forces (Ben-Ari & Fruhstuck, 2003, p. 544).
24. This point should be considered in proper context, as for decades research studies
have suggested that Japanese schools are gradually drifting toward an increasingly
militaristic paradigm. In observations from as early as 1961, Singleton found that
the Japan Teachers Union claimed ‘‘the Government and Ministry are seeking to
revive militaristic national patterns of behavior from the prewar period. Each move
of the government and the Ministry of Education is seen as a return to the past’’
(Singleton, 1967, p. 2). Over the past four decades, other educational researchers
have similarly documented a growing perception among teachers that nationalistic
policies are being reintroduced into Japanese schools (Yoneyama, 1999, p. 82).
Gregory Shepherd (1991) has also documented the application of a nationalistic
agenda within Japanese music scholarship, and Gerald Groemer (2004) has con-
firmed many of the concerns raised by Shepherd. It is certainly possible that the role
of national identity has been overemphasized in some previous studies of musical
practices in Japan. The present study examined the role of national identity in both
band repertoire and actual school band rehearsals, acknowledging that band parti-
cipation may entail nationalistic sentiments, yet may also serve to promote interna-
tional awareness.
25. See Johnson (2004), p. 155.
26. See Starrs (2004), p. 12.
References 249
27. See Johnson (2004), p. 153. It is also telling that on observing this recent shift in policy,
Nakao wrote ‘‘traditional Japanese music has been conspicuous by its absence in music
education. The skilled craftsmen who make traditional Japanese instruments were on the
verge of extinction’’ (Nakao, 2004, p. 108).
28. See Yoshino (1999), p. 25. Yano’s chapter from the same volume is also quite insightful
regarding how national identity is constructed through Japanese popular song (Yano,
1999).
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Japan Times. (Ed.). (2003, October 24). Flag, anthem controversy rumbles on. The Japan
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Johnson, H. (2004). The koto, traditional music, and an idealized Japan: Cultural nationalism
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Chapter 17
Ensemble Ethos: Theorizing Cultures of Musical
Achievement
木を見て森を見ず
kiwomite moriwomizu
‘‘To not see the wood for the trees’’
Music philosophers Contantijn Koopman and Stephen Davies have observed

that ‘‘When successfully engaging in music as a group, we do not merely share a
great experience; we also promote our sense of belonging together, our belief in
our capacity for effective collective action, and our joint commitment to ideals
that go beyond our private well being.’’1 Based on observation of successful
Japanese wind bands, this chapter presents a theoretical model that illustrates
the ensemble leader’s role in guiding musicians toward the acquisition of further
musical skills and understandings. Within this Ensemble Ethos Model, the music
teaching process is reconfigured beyond mere transmission of instructional con-
tent, toward a perspective that accounts for collective learning and social inter-
action: how an effective music teacher will nurture a culture of musical achieve-
ment. While unusual in such fields as ethnomusicology, the development and
application of theoretical models has been proposed as one way of contributing
to more precise discussion of issues, problems, and processes in music teacher
education.2 While this Ensemble Ethos model was originally conceived as a
theoretical framework for conceptualizing the array of relationships and pro-
cesses associated with successful music ensembles, it may also hold potential as a
pragmatic tool for music teacher education, facilitating the development of
holistic understandings associated with the ‘‘thoughtful practice’’ of reflective
teaching.3 It must also be understood that the minimalist model proposed here is
based on a post-positivist orientation, meaning that rather than establishing a
framework for empirical testing, it is envisioned as an interpretive and pragmatic
tool to stimulate reflective self-critique on the part of ensemble directors, and to
guide the development of criteria for music program evaluation.4
Effective music conductors and ensemble directors frequently grapple with
the question of how best to create the conditions necessary for their ensembles
to improve and thrive. This book has (hopefully) demonstrated that an
ethnographic perspective – one that holistically describes relationships in
252 17 Ensemble Ethos: Theorizing Cultures of Musical Achievement
context – may be as valuable as a reductive approach – one that measures and

analyzes individual behaviors of music teachers and students – for understand-
ing the processes of music teaching and learning.5
The Ensemble Ethos Model, designed for both descriptive and prescriptive
application, aims to enable participants to rethink the characteristic features of
successful large ensembles by broadening their focus from effective transmis-
sion of musical content to also include a more holistic view: leadership and
instructional strategies that may nurture a culture of musical achievement. The
Ensemble Ethos Model consists of two components, entitled ‘‘The Rehearsal
Process’’ (Fig. 17.1) and ‘‘Contextual Relationships’’ (Fig. 17.2). Illustrations of
the model are presented below, followed by explanation.
Part one of this model, ‘‘The Rehearsal Process’’ represents an essential set of
quasi-universal relationships formed through interactions among the aspiring
musicians and leader of a successful large music ensemble (Fig. 17.1). The
rehearsal zone is the setting in which aspiring musicians interact with the ensem-
ble leader for the purposes of improving their musical performance and develop-
ing greater musical understanding. Within this model, the definitions of ensemble
leader and aspiring musicians are intentionally malleable to accommodate var-
ious kinds of ensembles. For example, the aspiring musicians may be the wind
band at a local middle school, or perhaps the jazz band at a particular high school
in Mississippi, or even the Thai mahori ensemble at Mahidol University in
Bangkok, or a senior citizen handbell choir in Sao Paulo, Brazil. The ensemble
leader might be a middle school band director, but she could also be the leader of
a church choir or a community-based mariachi ensemble. The ensemble leader’s
Key objective: To nurture a culture of musical achievement
Fig. 17.1 Ensemble ethos

model: (1) The rehearsal
process
17 Ensemble Ethos: Theorizing Cultures of Musical Achievement 253
‘‘instruction’’ encompasses verbal directions, modeling, and feedback (both posi-

tive and negative, verbal and non-verbal) regarding the ensemble’s ongoing
performance. ‘‘Response’’ and ‘‘mentorship’’ are two additional key components
of the rehearsal processes that have remained relatively under-researched.
‘‘Response’’ refers to both the feedback (verbal questions and comments, and
non-verbal cues) and the actual performance obtained from the aspiring musi-
cians within the rehearsal zone. The inclusion of ‘‘mentorship’’ in this model is
due to the fact that some form of peer tutoring is often encountered, and may be
an essential element of, most kinds of successful large ensembles across a wide
array of musical traditions.6 Careful institutionalization and monitoring of men-
torship may lead to empowerment of the aspiring musicians and contribute to a
healthy construction of community within the ensemble ethos.
The second part of the Ensemble Ethos Model is entitled ‘‘Contextual
Relationships’’ (Fig. 17.2). Most every ensemble requires some kind of institu-
tional affiliation, and that context might be a school, temple, community center,
or other organization. The role of the ensemble within the institutional context
is an issue of fundamental importance, as any ensemble perceived by its host
institution as not fulfilling its expected role is unlikely to experience a long and
prosperous future. It is essential that stakeholders support the objectives of the
ensemble and are able to recognize its value.
Key objective: To nurture a culture of musical achievement
Fig. 17.2 Ensemble ethos model: (2) Contextual relationships

As demonstrated by Coffman and Mumford, the relationship with the com-

munity is also of great importance in terms of resources and other means of
support.7 Following previous models, the difference between ‘‘outside world’’
and community within this model is essentially one of degrees of familiarity.8
The term, community, certainly suggests the literal geographic locality within
which the institution is situated, yet its meaning may be appropriately taken to
encompass the full extent of broader connotations associated with this term. In
other words, the community of musicians active in the genre performed by the
ensemble in question may even be global in nature, as a virtual community
linked by musical identity. Hence, the phrase, ‘‘Outside World’’, conversely
denotes domains of unfamiliarity, both musical and sociocultural in nature.
The Outside World refers to people who have little or no contact with (or
awareness of) the music ensemble in question. Typically these are the people
who are most likely to either dismiss the value of the institution in which the
ensemble is situated or that of the ensemble itself, and attempts must be made to
draw more of them into the supportive community.
That nation is absent from this model is no oversight. It is hoped that in the
new millennium a cosmopolitanism entailing empathy for world concerns
might take precedence over explicitly national ones, particularly within the
practice of music education.9 Typically, nation will be naturally incorporated
into some local definitions of community, or may in some cases – particularly in
large, multicultural nations – be seen as part of the Outside World.
Certainly, key instructional concepts owed to the American experimental
research tradition, such as teacher intensity, modeling, and verbal/non-verbal
feedback still retain their significance within this reconceptualization.10 However,
the Ensemble Ethos Model enables consideration of these issues as one part of a
larger whole. Examination of particular cases in terms of this model may help
explain why a band director with a deep understanding of music and instrumental
methods and high ratings of ‘‘teacher intensity’’ (e.g. brisk instructional pacing,
frequent eye-contact and feedback, etc.), who conducts a group using highly-
appropriate repertoire, may still struggle to reach outstanding levels of ensemble
achievement. In terms of Ensemble Ethos, a researcher or music teacher educator
might ask the observed (whether a participant in a research study or a music
teacher intern) to identify precise issues that impede the attainment of a culture of
musical achievement in a specific ensemble. Are the current challenges associated
more with ‘‘Contextual Relationships’’ or the ‘‘Rehearsal Process,’’ and which
aspect in particular? Inadequacies within precise aspects of the Ensemble Ethos
may turn out to be the crucial variable in such cases, as the instructor may not be
receiving sufficient and accurate feedback from students, or students may be
unsupportive of each other, for example.
Motivation for music learning represents one of the key themes (among many)
that may exemplify how an examination of ensemble ethos provides a deeper
understanding of the diverse variables associated with achievement than mere
analysis of the delivery of instructional content.11 It is widely recognized to be
unusual for any large music ensemble to attain high levels of performance without a
Notes 255
sustained determination on the part of its members for regular individual practice.
Quality and quantity of individual practice may in fact prove to be even more
significant than instructional effectiveness, repertoire choice, or other issues typi-
cally emphasized by music teacher effectiveness research in terms of relationship to
ensemble achievement.12 In the case of Japanese school bands, individual practice
as traditionally conceived – students rehearsing by themselves at home – does not
play a significant role. Rather, students practice together with like instruments in
conditions of extreme intensity, frequency, and discipline. This case suggests that
the empowerment of students to take ownership of an ensemble – by actively
training each other and practicing together – may be an important key to successful
performance, even circumventing the need for significant parental involvement.13
Institutionalization of such practices, through effective delegation of responsibil-
ities on the part of the ensemble leader, may enable more time and energy to be
spent on other objectives. Hence, examination of this case in terms of the Ensemble
Ethos Model will demonstrate how, beyond the atomistic characteristics of instruc-
tional effectiveness, the Japanese school band director successfully fulfills her
holistic role: to facilitate practices that nurture a culture of musical achievement.
Although developed with the direction of music ensembles in mind, this
pragmatic model may also be applicable to some examples of performance-
oriented classroom music teaching among large groups of students, or even
music learning in virtual settings via online communities. Even in these most
innovative of instructional settings, similar issues are faced by music teachers
who strive to facilitate the emergence of intellectual and aesthetic synergy across
a virtual ‘‘community of practice’’.14 By focusing on relationships and the
nurturing of culture, music teachers may better recognize and respond to the
broader set of issues involved in developing and maintaining a vibrant and
inspiring music program. In addition to development of this model, several
specific conclusions were attained through this study that will serve as the
subject of the final concluding chapter.
Notes
1. See Koopman and Davies (2001), p. 271.

2. See Edwards (1992) and LeBlanc (1996) for discussion of how development of theoretical
models may benefit music educators. Consideration of this Ensemble Ethos model has
provided stimulation for interpretation of data in a recent study of a youth band in New
Zealand (Hebert, 2008).
3. By ‘‘thoughtful practice,’’ I am using the terminology of Peter Webster (1999), who
developed an insightful model of what he sees as fundamental long-term objectives for
music teacher educators.
4. For detailed discussion of approaches to music program evaluation, see Colwell (2003a,
2003b).
5. There have been surprisingly few published monographs that examine music teaching and
learning from such a perspective. See Campbell (2010) and McCarthy (1999) for examples
of the few previous book-length publications of this kind.
6. Institutionalization of an effective system of peer-tutoring and mentorship was deter-

mined through this study to be a contributing factor to the remarkable successes of
Japanese school bands. A modicum of previous studies have examined peer tutoring in
music ensemble contexts, but there is a great need for further research in this area
(Alexander & Dorow, 1983; Goodrich, 2007).
7. Don Coffman and Monte Mumford (2002) have discussed the importance of establishing
healthy relationships between school and community ensembles, and has been quite
active in popularization of the New Horizons bands among senior citizens, which is a
promising form of lifelong music education.
8. Patricia Shehan Campbell (1996) offers a useful concentric circles model that is especially
applicable to classroom teaching among younger children.
9. This position is consistent with the mission statements of such UNESCO-affiliated
organizations as the International Music Council and the International Society for
Music Education, which promote intercultural understanding through music (rather
than promotion of patriotic ideology). See Heimonen and Hebert (2010), Hebert (2006)
and Hebert and Kertz-Welzel (2012) for discussion of the problematic role that nation-
alism has played in music education across various cultures and historical periods.
10. In his comprehensive review of quantitative research studies in the area of effective music
teaching, Robert Duke (1999/2000) brilliantly demonstrates the collective usefulness of
studies that to the novice often appear to only provide incremental findings of little
relevance. His article is arguably among the most useful publications to date in terms of
demonstrating the value of quantitative approaches to research in music education.
11. This assertion appears to be consistent with much of the recent research on motivation
in music learning. See Austin, Renwick, and McPherson (2006) and McPherson and
Davidson (2006) for further discussion.
12. Studies of rehearsal strategies among jazz musicians seem to provide especially valuable
insights in this area, with great potential to enhance the teaching of individual practice
strategies (Faulkner, 2006). While the pioneering contributions of ethnomusicologists
must be recognized, more extensive empirical research is needed on the teaching and
learning of music in an array of traditions around the world (Rice, 2003, 2010).
13. Many music education researchers, including Hallam (2002), have identified parental
involvement as a fundamental component of music learning, which is certainly consistent
with the Suzuki Method that originated in Japan. The case of Japanese school bands
offers a counterintuitive challenge to such theories, since parents are relatively uninvolved
in these ensembles. The Ensemble Ethos Model may guide systematic consideration of
other factors that contribute to the success of music ensembles for cases in which parental
support is relatively absent.
14. See Hebert (2007) and Ruthmann and Hebert (in press) for discussion of issues in online
music communities, which promise to play an important role in both professional deve-
lopment and lifelong music education.
References
Alexander, L., & Dorow, L. G. (1983). Peer tutoring effects on the music performance of tutors
and tutees in beginning band classes. Journal of Research in Music Education, 31(1), 33–47.
Austin, J., Renwick, J., & McPherson, G. E. (2006). Developing motivation. In G. E. McPherson
(Ed.), The child as musician: A handbook of musical development (pp. 213–238). New York:
Campbell, P. S. (1996). Music, education, and community in multicultural societies. In
M. McCarthy (Ed.), Crosscurrents: Setting an agenda for music education in community
culture (pp. 4–33). College Park, MD: University of Maryland.
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Campbell, P. S. (2010). Songs in their heads: Music and its meaning in children’s lives (2nd ed.).
Coffman, D. D., & Mumford, M. H. (2002). Community and school music wind bands:
Making and retaining effective, complementary, rewarding relationships. ISME Commu-
nity Music Activity Seminar: Community Music in the Modern Metropolis, 1–5. Retrieved
September 11, 2011, from http://www.worldmusiccentre.com/uploads/cma/coffman.PDF
Colwell, R. J. (2003a). Introduction: Program evaluation in music teacher education. Bulletin
of the Council for Research in Music Education, 158, 1–3.
Colwell, R. J. (2003b). Program evaluation in music teacher education. Bulletin of the Council
for Research in Music Education, 158, 4–41.
Duke, R. A. (1999/2000). Measures of instructional effectiveness in music research. Bulletin of
Edwards, R. H. (1992). Model building. In R. Colwell (Ed.), Handbook of research on music
teaching and learning (pp. 38–47). New York: Schirmer.
Faulkner, R. R. (2006). Shedding culture. In H. S. Becker, R. R. Faulkner, & B. Kirshenblatt-
Gimblett (Eds.), Art from start to finish: Jazz, painting, writing, and other improvisations
(pp. 91–117). Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Goodrich, A. (2007). Peer mentoring in a high school jazz ensemble. Journal of Research in
Music Education, 55(2), 94–114.
Hallam, S. (2002). Musical motivation: Towards a model synthesizing the research. Music
Education Research, 4(2), 225–244.
Hebert, D. G. (2007). Five challenges and solutions in online music teacher education.
Research and Issues in Music Education, 5. Retrieved September 11, 2011, from http://
www.stthomas.edu/rimeonline/vol5/hebert.htm
Hebert, D. G. (2008). Music transmission in an Auckland Tongan community youth band.
International Journal of Community Music, 1(2), 169–188.
Hebert, D. G., & Kertz-Welzel, A. (Eds.). (forthcoming, 2012). Patriotism and nationalism in
music education. Aldershot: Ashgate.
Heimonen, M., & Hebert, D. G. (2010). Pluralism and minority rights in music education:
Implications of the legal and social philosophical dimension. Visions of Research in Music
Education, 15, 1–34. Retrieved September 11, 2011, from http://www-usr.rider.edu/
vrme/v15n1/index.htm
Koopman, C., & Davies, S. (2001). Musical meaning in broader perspective. Journal of
Aesthetics and Art Criticism, 59(3), 261–273.
LeBlanc, A. (1996). Building theory in music education: A personal account. Philosophy of
University Press.
McPherson, G. E., & Davidson, J. W. (2006). Playing an instrument. In G. E. McPherson (Ed.),
The child as musician: A handbook of musical development (pp. 331–351). New York: Oxford
University Press.
Rice, T. (2003). The ethnomusicology of music learning and teaching. College Music Sympo-
sium, 43, 65–85.
54(2), 318–325.
Ruthmann, A., & Hebert, D. G. (in press). Music learning and new media in virtual and online
environments. In G. McPherson & G. Welch (Eds.), Oxford handbook of music education.
Webster, P. (1999). Preparing teachers of music for a lifetime. Journal of Aesthetic Education,
33(4), 179–192.
Chapter 18
Conclusions
亀の甲より年の功
Kameno kou yori toshino kou
‘‘Stronger than the tortoise’s shell are lessons from life’’
18.1 Overview of Conclusions
As this book draws to a conclusion, it is important to reconsider what exactly is

meant by ‘‘cultural identity’’, as well as the various ways this study demonstrates
the contribution of wind bands to the construction of cultural identity in
Japanese schools. Stuart Hall has provided a particularly insightful description
of cultural identity:
Cultural identities come from somewhere, have histories. But, like everything else
which is historical, they undergo constant transformation. Far from being eternally
fixed in some essentialist past, they are subject to the continuous ‘‘play’’ of history,
culture and power . . . cultural identity is a matter of ‘‘becoming’’ as well as of ‘‘being’’. It
belongs to the future as much as to the past.1
With Hall’s realization in mind, this book was written from both historical
and ethnographic perspectives, including deliberate efforts to acknowledge
the historical antecedents and evolution of current practices, as well as the
means by which new understandings of the past are created in the present.
Cultural identity has therefore been systematically considered in relation to
music teaching and learning strategies, educational and musical institutions,
wind band repertoire, the musical instrument industry, popular media,
and the construction of gender and nation within the sphere of Japanese
school bands. But to what extent is it valid to suggest that wind band
music may indicate something larger about the nation of Japan? Henry
Johnson has observed the following regarding the representation of nation-
hood in music:
The relationship between music and national identity might be viewed in two separate
ways. Firstly, there is music that has the objective of either representing a nation or
being representative of a nation. Secondly, there are the musics that exist within a
260 18 Conclusions
nation that may have distinct sources or influences from outside a nation’s national
borders.2
Following Johnson’s delineation, one may recognize how the expression of

cultural identity in music extends far beyond national anthems to include even
how musical concepts and practices are adopted from abroad. For such rea-
sons, the teaching of wind band music in Japan offers rich and important
insights into cultural identity. Still, some postmodernists might argue that the
very notion of cultural identity itself is an outdated or useless construct.
Regarding contemporary Japanese cultural identity, anthropologist Takie
Sugiyama Lebra has asserted the following:
I do not hesitate to refer to ‘‘a culture’’ or ‘‘Japanese culture,’’ meaning a pragmatically
chosen construct that is meaningful given my objectives (and with the same rationale I
have no problem speaking about ‘‘Western culture’’). I stress that a construct is not an
illusion but a necessary device that allows us to grasp a targeted aspect of reality. The
validity of any given construct depends on the extent to which it ‘‘works’’ better than
another in this regard.3
Lebra’s pragmatic position resonates with the positions of vast majority of

contemporary scholars who have deeply experienced cultural differences for
themselves and chosen to focus their efforts on intercultural and international-
comparative research. In the field of music education, Minette Mans has illu-
strated the importance of cultural identity, but also asserted that identity
construction must be recognized as a ‘‘complex and multilayered’’ process
that may be ascribed, negotiated, fragmented, and even deliberately
transformed.4
With these points in mind, for the sake of clarity it is useful to consider the
findings of this study in terms of three distinct categories of interest: (A) the
teacher, (B) the students, and (C) the system. The teacher and student categories
in this case refer to findings specific to the Ishikawa Middle School band, while
the category of ‘‘system’’ indicates more general findings regarding the Japanese
school band system and its sociocultural context.
Conclusions Overview A. Several characteristics of ‘‘the teacher’’ have been
identified in this study (Fig. 18.1).
The weekly schedule of Japanese school band directors tends to be remark-
ably full. Kato Sensei reported an estimated 75 h/week devoted to work at the
Ishikawa Middle School, and transportation between her home and the cam-
pus. Like most Japanese school band directors, she received little training in
band directing techniques from her university, but Kato Sensei actively parti-
cipated in band organizations, and pursued opportunities to learn from clin-
icians. Rather than merely focusing on the learning of musical skills and
concepts, Kato Sensei’s coaching emphasized the development of teamwork
and leadership ability through cooperative learning within her ensemble, and
displayed genuine concern for the social development of the Ishikawa Middle
School band members. Kato Sensei systematically incorporated the delegation
of responsibility to student leaders into her instructional approach, and
18.1 Overview of Conclusions 261
The Middle School Band Director (Kato Sensei):

(A-1) Overworked (with transportation time, 75 hours per week)
(A-2) Essentially self-trained as a band conductor, with guidance from the community
(A-3) Cares about the social development of students (e.g. leadership, teamwork, etc.)
(A-4) Highly skilled at delegating responsibility to student leaders
(A-5) Provides much negative verbal feedback; little positive feedback
(A-6) Uses semi-sequential patterns of instruction, with minimal technical content
(A-7) Conducting gestures are clear and efficient
(A-8) Chooses technically challenging repertoire, mostly without student input
(A-9) Intensity/magnitude (eye contact, pacing, etc.) varies by activity, piece, day
(A-10) Improvisation generally remains untaught within the band
(A-11) Keyboard and voice are used for modeling of musical phrases
(A-12) Both loved and feared by the band members
(A-13) In the band context, the repertoire is the curriculum
(A-14) Aspects of instruction resemble hogaku pedagogy and moral education
Fig. 18.1 Conclusions overview A: The teacher
consistently emphasized the importance of student leadership in the ensemble.

Kato Sensei frequently provided negative feedback in her instruction, with
minimal positive feedback. She incorporated semi-sequential patterns into a
5-point instructional approach, and rarely used metaphorical explanations in
her descriptions of the music. Kato Sensei’s conducting gestures were concise,
unambiguous, and generally effective. Kato Sensei selected the ensemble’s
repertoire, and her choice of competition pieces were quite challenging,
although lighter pieces were also used for some performances. The intensity
of Kato Sensei’s directing varied day-by-day, and certainly increased during the
final rehearsals prior to major performances. Musical improvisation was not a
part of the selected repertoire, nor was it to be found elsewhere in the Ishikawa
Middle School band activities (or, its tacit ‘‘curriculum’’). Kato Sensei modeled
particular phrases and techniques with keyboard and voice as she directed the
ensemble. While she did not personally make use of solmization or mnemonics,
students did so on their own within paatore (sectional rehearsals), particularly
within their sheet music markings. Ishikawa Middle School band members
expressed through both interviews and documents that they considered Kato
Sensei to be very strict within rehearsals, yet they also really liked her and felt
that she cared for them. The repertoire chosen by Kato Sensei served as the only
curriculum for the model of musical learning observed in this band. The sense of
hierarchy associated with both hogaku pedagogy and Japanese moral educa-
tion was also highly evident within the Ishikawa Middle School band, consis-
tently reinforced within Kato Sensei’s instruction.
Conclusions Overview B. Several characteristics of ‘‘the students’’ were iden-
tified in this study (Fig. 18.2).
The membership of the Ishikawa Middle School band consisted of 95% girls,
a figure that was quite similar to other Japanese school bands observed at the
highest levels of competition. A wide range of personalities and levels of
262 18 Conclusions
The Ishikawa Middle School Band Students:

(B-1) 95% girls, diverse personalities and levels of maturity are evident
(B-2) Varying leadership styles in sectionals: Intense driller vs. empathetic consultant
(B-3) Social hierarchy: Ritualized behavior ensures constant awareness of rank
(B-4) Learn instruments through devoted imitation of Sempai (senior students)
(B-5) Rehearse at school, not at home; parents are relatively uninvolved
(B-6) Individual practice is reduced to a component of sectional rehearsals
(B-7) Recorded models are used frequently in sectional rehearsals
(B-
(B-9) Motivation: Generally unsure of role of music in their future (even high school)
(B-10) Motivation: Competition viewed as meaningless without top honors (gold)
(B-11) Instruments selected for new students by inkai (closed-door committees)
(B-12) Individual parts are well-studied, marked to a degree resembling abstract art
(B-13) Time management (balance of band and academic work) can be a problem
(B-14) Little is known about band composers, band history, meaning of pieces, etc.
(B-15) Cooperation is a fundamental trope, pervading the school band ethos
Fig. 18.2 Conclusions overview B: The students
maturity was observed in the behavior of the Ishikawa Middle School band
members (aged 12–15), particularly within their sectional rehearsals. Diverse
personality styles were particularly evident in the leadership approaches taken
by various section leaders. Ritualized behavior and language reinforce aware-
ness of rank within the organization. Basic instrument techniques were learned
primarily within sectional rehearsals, under the close guidance of slightly-older
Sempai, who mentor the younger students. The school band members tended to
practice for long hours at school (in excess of 20 h/week at the Ishikawa Middle
School, which is not unusual among such bands), and generally did not take
their instruments home for individual practice. Rather, individual practice
occured at school, within the small-group context of sectional rehearsals.
Parents play a minimal role in these bands, but support the ensembles by paying
the annual band participation fees, which tend to be quite inexpensive relative
to Japan’s economy. Ishikawa Middle School band members received CD
recordings of professional performances of the repertoire to be learned, custom-
made by Kato Sensei. The students listened to these CD recordings at home, as
well as within their sectional rehearsals. They also made recordings of their own
playing within the sectional rehearsals, and collectively compared these with the
professional models, which were considered to embody the definitive versions
of each piece. Ishikawa Middle School band members (along with their school
principal, Kato Sensei, and other band conductors) asserted that only ‘‘iiko’’
(good kids) join and remain in school bands, as membership requires too much
dedication and discipline for misbehaving children to bear. Indeed, disciplinary
problems were not encountered among any of the Japanese school bands
observed, which is certainly unusual among this age group, regardless of
cultural context. Ishikawa Middle School band members reported that they
were motivated to enter the band by the attraction of both their peers and the
18.1 Overview of Conclusions 263
music itself, even though most did not have a clear sense of what their future
musical activities would be, even upon entering high school. Participation in the
AJBA band competition played a significant role in student motivation for
achievement in the Ishikawa Middle School band, and band members indicated
that they ‘‘hated’’ receiving anything but the highest possible scores for their
performance. Inkai (closed-door committees) of student leaders were used to
assign particular instruments to incoming students, based upon the perceived
needs of the ensemble. Students marked their individual sheet music parts with
copious notes of various kinds in many different colors, a practice also observed
among several other Japanese school bands. Band members admitted that it
was difficult to balance the requirements of band participation with their
academic work, but also acknowledged that much of the time their academic
work was not very challenging. Ishikawa Middle School band members had
little opportunity to learn about the background of the music they performed –
the history of wind bands, the biographies of the composers who had produced
their repertoire, the meanings associated with particular pieces – for these
lessons, frequently found in formal band classes, would not be featured in an
after school extra-curricular activity. As Chapter 11 demonstrates, kyoryoku
(cooperation) was a fundamental theme emphasized in social interactions
throughout the ensemble.
Conclusions Overview C. Several characteristics of ‘‘the system’’ were identi-
fied through this study as nationally applicable to Japanese wind bands
(Fig. 18.3).
Kato Sensei reported that she learned little about band from her university
training, which appears to be common among Japanese school band directors.
According to documents and interviews, bands are unrivaled as the most
popular large instrumental ensemble in Japanese schools, and they are also
the most popular ensemble within lifelong learning in Japan.5 Typically, the
Ishikawa Middle School band rehearsed 20 h/week, a rehearsal schedule that is
not uncommon among competitive Japanese school bands. Bands from
The Japanese School Band System:

(C-1) Bands receive little attention within university music education departments
(C-2) Bands are the most popular large instrumental ensemble in Japanese schools
(C-3) Bands are the most popular instrumental ensemble in lifelong learning programs
(C-4) It is not uncommon for successful bands to rehearse over 20 hours per week
(C-5) Bands at elite schools have an advantage in terms of private instrument lessons
(C-6) AJBA competitions are the key event in the schedule of most Japanese school bands
(C-7) AJBA commissions and customized arrangements contribute to the band repertoire
(C-8) Although Texas-influenced, the AJBA organizational model is unique
(C-9) The AJBA competition may be
(C-10) Many Japanese girls develop leadership skills through school band
(C-11) School band participation contributes to musical identity construction
Fig. 18.3 Conclusions overview C: The system

264 18 Conclusions
wealthier schools reportedly have greater access to private instrumental tea-

chers within their band programs.
Most Japanese school bands participate in the AJBA competition, and
structure their annual schedules around it. Annually, AJBA commissions pro-
duce several new works per year by Japanese composers, and many brief band
showcase arrangements are also produced specifically to meet the requirements
of the competition. While the AJBA contest has been influenced by the Texas
Music Educators Association band competition, it is quite unique in terms of its
degree of influence, organizational model, contest guidelines, and procedures.
Overall, school band is a domain in which many Japanese girls are provided
with unique leadership opportunities, and all participants are expected to serve
as mentors as they attain seniority within the organization. Participation in
school band clearly contributes to students’ musical identity, particularly in
terms of gender and nationality.
18.2 The World’s Finest School Bands
The opening pages of this study present several enthusiastic statements regard-
ing Japanese school bands. In closing, it seems useful to review why such
statements matter, and what they appear to suggest about the significance of
this topic. Certainly any claim to be the ‘‘world’s finest’’ is inevitably subjective,
however the relative strength of such statements was considered noteworthy in
this case due the five factors of authority, broad consensus, positionality,
uniqueness, and absence of opposition.
Authority. Expert western band directors are among the voices lauding the
‘‘amazing’’ achievements of Japanese school bands, including many highly
accomplished and influential conductors.
Broad consensus. These statements cannot be characterized as merely a few
careless remarks associated with fringe figures. Rather, such claims were made
by numerous directors, based on diverse experiences, and printed in a variety of
publications.
Positionality. Western band directors do not benefit from claiming that
Japanese school bands are superior. Rather, such statements could even be
interpreted as reluctant confessions.
Uniqueness. No alternative claims of a similar ilk are being produced. There
appear to be no published accounts of band directors claiming that Finnish or
Turkish school bands are ‘‘amazing’’ for example.
Absence of opposition. There appear to be no published claims that the
achievements of Japanese bands have been over-rated in previous publications.
However, what do claims of this nature really mean? This question must be
considered carefully, in context. Nobody appears to be asserting that the
average Japanese school band is outstanding, or even finer than the average
American school band. What these claims actually suggest is that from the
perspective of Western band experts, the very finest performances of the most
18.3 Practical Implications for Music Teachers 265
outstanding school bands from all of Japan are extraordinary. Observations

from the present study do not give any cause to challenge such statements,
although the caveat must be added that the claim of ‘‘world’s finest’’ would
probably not apply to Japan’s college bands and school jazz ensembles. As this
book has demonstrated, some Japanese middle school bands perform at an
astonishingly high level, yet devotion to such an intense practice regimen
appears to decrease as students become older. While Japanese high school
bands can be very impressive, they tend to be somewhat less impressive than
the middle school bands relative to their counterparts in other nations, which
appears to be due to progressively increasing demands on students’ time. This
pattern of increasing demands and decreasing band rehearsal time continues to
the next stage of education with some rather strong Japanese university bands,
yet at the elite music conservatories students tend to give more of their attention
to symphony orchestra, opera, and chamber music. Jazz ensembles, on the
other hand, are increasingly found as extracurricular clubs at this stage, and a
few Japanese universities have very recently established actual jazz programs,
which may soon become a new growth area.
Finally, depending upon one’s operational definitions, such claims of
‘‘world’s finest’’ may even be testable (verifiable/falsifiable) through use of
statistical analyses with an expert panel and a blind review of music recordings
from various bands performing identical repertoire under identical conditions.
It would indeed be very interesting to see these assertions actually tested by
future studies, for it truly seems possible that recordings of some leading
Japanese middle school bands would actually be rated higher than many
American university bands.
This study has produced a number of specific findings, yet there are also
broader implications to be derived from consideration of its results within the
context of global theories and practices in the fields of music and education. The
significance of these findings will now be presented in terms of practical impli-
cations for music educators.
18.3 Practical Implications for Music Teachers
The findings of this study have broad implications for practicing music teachers
that encompass a diversity of themes, including competition, gender, national-
ism, peer tutoring, transculturation, parental involvement, and community
partnership in lifelong learning.
Competition. The model of music education described in this study is particu-
larly illustrative of both the positive and negative aspects of competition, as it
functions as a goal and a motivator in musical learning. Further research is
needed on musical competition to determine the effects of its application both
within ensembles (through the awarding of hierarchical chairs and solo parts) and
between ensembles (in public competitions), and it may be premature to explicitly
266 18 Conclusions
propose normative protocols. Still, it seems reasonable to suggest that in theory,

some benefits of music competitions may potentially exceed the detrimental
aspects, and one viable solution has been to offer a kind of compromise: quasi-
competitive festivals, in which less emphasis is placed on competition against
rivals, and a greater diversity of awards are offered. Yet beyond the North
American development of festivals that have edged into the realm of clinical
adjudication rather than ‘‘battles of the bands’’, one might envision an event with
citations to bands in a broad variety of categories that might include improve-
ment, diversity (‘‘bimusicality,’’ or breadth of genres performed), improvisation,
sightreading, original student composition, visual appeal (e.g. choreography or
marching), and audience favorite selected by popular vote. All bands entering
such a festival would receive a citation of one sort or another, in addition to
discrete recommendations based on evaluation of the standardized criteria typi-
cally used for adjudication of school-affiliated ensembles. Such use of a greater
diversity of award categories within music competitions might help to lessen the
emphasis on final scores from adjudicators, and provide encouragement for
creative experimentation. Experts in various fields could also be called upon to
give specialist advice to each participating ensemble through clinics and work-
shops, as an additional component of the event. Many positive features of the
AJBA model also merit consideration in the design of such events, including the
three-tiered organization of its nation-wide contest, as well as its annual com-
missioning of original contest pieces, production of professional CDs and DVDs
of student performances, inclusion of intergenerational ensembles, and mutually-
beneficial collaboration with music industry sponsors.
Gender. Gender is another domain in which this study has implications.
Namely, Western school band directors who are challenged by instrumental
gender stereotypes would do well to become aware of, and to pass on to their
own students, the reality that many of the brass and percussion players in the
world’s finest school bands are girls. Video excerpts of performances from the
All-Japan Band Association national competition could be shown as evidence
for this assertion, and might also inspire female students.6
Nationalism. Patriotism and national identity is another theme examined in
this study, particularly through description of the history of Japanese school
bands and the current use of Japan’s national anthem in schools. While an
appreciation for the positive aspects of one’s homeland and cultural traditions
certainly has its rightful place, the tendency for nationalism to incite the
ultimate horror of war is a concern that conscientious educators may never
comfortably overlook. At various points during the twentieth century, and even
in recent years, American educators have rallied to support the cause of nation-
alism through increased emphasis on patriotic music in school classrooms.
Alternatively, global understanding, multicultural awareness, and tolerance
are educational ideals that many would argue merit greater emphasis in the
music classrooms of today. The extent to which such policies reflect the most
fundamental objectives of our profession is an issue that may require further
introspection. Detailed analyses of patriotic music education practices in other
18.3 Practical Implications for Music Teachers 267
nations may enable music educators to rethink this process at home, from
outside a routine perspective of tacit assumptions.7 American music teachers
would do well to reflect upon the subtle effects that their choices of instructional
content and delivery style have on foreign-born and minority students, as well
as the worldview of their entire classroom. The survival of democracy may
require students’ views to be faithfully respected. Moreover, students’ personal
musical preferences may inform the most effective routes to successful musical
learning. Such considerations fit into the broader concern of developing a more
transforming, empowering, and democratic practice of music education.8
Peer tutoring. The institutionalization of mentorship and peer tutoring was
identified as a contributing factor to the unusually high musical achievement of
Ishikawa Middle School band members. Similar relationships could be effec-
tively nurtured within the school and community ensembles of other nations.
However, it may be advisable to systematically monitor such relationships, with
concern for the preservation of student autonomy, and to ensure against the
development of any oppressive or coercive behaviors. As illustrated by the
Ensemble Ethos model (Fig. 17.1), the eliciting of a constant stream of feedback
from the aspiring musicians is essential in this regard.
Transculturation. The case of Japanese school bands represents a highly
significant model with implications for other nations, for as other scholars
have asserted, ‘‘it is undeniable that Japan occupies a key position in the
globalization of Western music.’’9 This study has demonstrated that within a
few generations of use in a school system, the performance of culturally-distant
musical traditions can be mastered by young students, albeit using pedagogical
approaches that may differ significantly from that of the genre’s culture of
origin.10 This finding lends additional support to the notion that the infusion of
‘‘world music’’ traditions in schools leads not only to an increased appreciation
for cultural diversity, but in time may produce a high level of musicianship
across a greater breadth of genres.11 This case has also shown that music
teachers may learn to effectively teach such unfamiliar ensembles and traditions
through continuing education and lifelong learning programs that connect
educators with community artists.
Parental involvement. The role of parents was another theme with findings that
were unexpected and quite interesting. Most Ishikawa Middle School band
members came from working class families, and motivation to devote such time
and energy to the band derived from the encouragement of their peers, rather
than actively-involved parents. Contrary to many familiar cases (most notably,
the Suzuki Method), parents are essentially absent from this model of outstand-
ing musical achievement. In that regard, the Japanese school band model appears
to represent a significant exception to the ‘‘systems framework’’ of parent-
teacher-pupil interactions, as outlined by music educationists.12 Rather, findings
from the present study suggest that in some exceptionally effective programs,
parental support may be relatively unnecessary to attain high levels of musical
achievement. This conclusion may be taken as a message of hope to educators
who have grown pessimistic with decreasing levels of parental support,
268 18 Conclusions
particularly in urban and low-income settings. This case clearly demonstrates

that despite a lack of parental involvement, it may be possible to implement a
highly effective school music program. However, the means to that end may often
be not easily attained, and in some cases, music educators will need to enlist the
support of administrators, teacher colleagues, allied staff, and community lea-
ders, in order to facilitate the deep structural reforms necessary to enable forma-
tion of a culture of musical achievement. School music teachers may also have
much to learn from community music programs in this regard.
Community partnership in lifelong learning. This study also provides an
interesting model of how music participation can be enhanced through effective
partnerships between schools and community organizations (Fig. 17.2).13
Many aspects of the interactions observed in the Japanese middle school band
are comparable to relationships encountered in Western community-based
organizations. Based upon years of research among adolescents in 60 youth-
based organization sites in the United States, McLaughlin and Heath con-
cluded that
activities in these organizations suggest a sense of ownership these young people gain is
a shared one – a sense of ‘‘being in this together’’ with the team, the center, or the
troupe. Although each individual must be able to hold up his or her responsibilities,
each does so with a view of connection and linkage. Letting down on the part of one
person weakens the entire enterprise; thus, the youngsters work hard to keep each other
up and to bring recalcitrants in line. A program attractive to teenagers is a program
that is ‘‘theirs.’’ A program attractive to adolescent youth empowers them, underscores
their competence, and bolsters their sense of social worth.14
This description in many ways resembles processes observed among Japa-

nese school bands. Previous research has identified the importance of facilitat-
ing practices that empower young music students and provide them with a sense
of ‘‘ownership.’’15 Such empowerment of participants enables the construction
of musical community.
18.4 Toward a Musical Community
Putnam observed that the ‘‘collapse of community’’ is a root cause of many

contemporary American social problems, but concluded that ‘‘participation
in extracurricular activities’’ is a ‘‘proven means to increase civic and social
involvement in later life.’’16 Schools in the United States and other nations
would do well to allocate the necessary resources, in partnership with commu-
nity organizations, to provide a diversity of relevant extracurricular programs
to students with musical interests, whether in actual classroom instruction or
extracurricular activities. Possibilities in this regard include not only the stan-
dard fare of wind bands, orchestras, jazz bands, and choirs, but also mariachi
groups, rock bands, Latin dance bands, and other ensemble types, each with its
own distinct advantages in terms of reaching disenfranchised students.17
Notes 269
Christopher Small observed, ‘‘The big challenge to music educators today

seems to me to be not how to produce more skilled professional musicians but
how to provide that kind of social context for informal as well as formal musical
interaction that leads to real development and to the musicalizing of the society
as a whole.’’18 Empowering young musicians to take leadership in ensembles of
their own will surely result in more fulfilling musical experiences and lead to
greater rates of lifelong participation in music.
One cannot help but be awestruck by the achievements of Japanese school
band members and their directors. They have ‘‘raised the bar’’ for music
educators of all nations, with expressive performances that thrill and inspire
their communities. We still have much to learn from their enthusiasm, coop-
erative spirit, and intense efforts. In closing, it seems apt to bid the farewell
exchanged by Ishikawa Middle School band members as they depart from their
final performance: Go kuro sama!
Notes
1. See Stuart Hall (1993, p. 394) for theoretical discussion of cultural identity.
2. See Johnson (2010), p. 1.
3. See Lebra (2004), p. 257.
4. See Mans (2009), p. 98.
5. This finding is from a report assembled by Mitsumori (2003).
6. Commercially released videos of Japanese school bands include Japan’s Best for 2003
(2003), a particularly impressive example that is distributed outside Japan via Bravo
Music.
7. See Hebert (2006) for discussion of this issue. Concerns have also been raised by Hum-
phreys (2006) and Jorgensen (2007) regarding what appears to be an increased emphasis
on nationalism in music education within the United States during recent periods of
military conflict.
8. See Jorgensen (2003) for discussion of democratic approaches to music education.
9. See Gottschewski and Gottschewski (2006), p. 169.
10. Merry White has observed that ‘‘in borrowing European and American models of school-
ing Japan did not borrow Western conceptions of learning and childhood’’ (White, 1987,
p. 4). This book has demonstrated that the system of school bands in Japan, while highly
successful in terms of Western performance standards, is based upon quite different
assumptions, values and objectives than is commonly seen in European and American
school music ensembles.
11. See Reimer (2002), Drummond (2005), Hebert and Karlsen (2010) for further discussion
of this issue.
12. See Creech and Hallam (2003), p. 40.
13. Researchers affiliated with Japan’s National Institute for Educational Policy Research
have concluded that ‘‘various policies of recent years have tied schools closer to the
community and industry, and are working in the direction of smoothing the process of
preparing young people for society’’ (Tatsuta, Yamada, Sasai, Sawano, & Iwasaki, 2002,
p. 26). In terms of lifelong learning, it is significant that the All-Japan Band Association
national competition combines school-affiliated, company-affiliated, and community
bands within a single contest, albeit distinct divisions. In this regard, the Japanese school
270 18 Conclusions
band model engenders the notion of music participation as a lifelong activity, as it promotes
conceptual links between young musicians and institutions in their local communities.
Coffman and Mumford have observed that collaboration between community music and
school programs produces ‘‘increased opportunities for cross-age contact between children,
adolescents and adults. These interactions help to reinforce attitudes about the benefits of
respect, commitment, responsibility, and a spirit of cooperation. In short, these kinds of
interactions serve to link school and community experiences for the student’’ (Coffman and
Mumford, 2002, p. 5). This notion of community plays a highly significant role within
Japanese school bands.
14. See McLaughlin and Heath (1993), p. 218.
15. See Allsup (2003) for discussion of how ‘‘ownership’’ may be instilled among students via
democratic practices in music education.
16. See Putnam (2000), p. 405.
17. Several relevant publications discuss such topics, including Hebert (2009, 2011), Rodriguez
(2004), Keil (1985), and Taylor, Barry, and Walls (1997). Basil Bernstein’s theories may also
offer a helpful framework that lends support to the opening up of such new forms of music
offerings in schools. Ruth Wright (2010, p. 277) has proposed an insightful interpretation of
how Bernstein’s notion of democratic rights might be applied to music education, empha-
sizing the themes of inclusion, enhancement, and participation. Inclusion, which is defined
as ‘‘The right to be included intellectually, socially and culturally,’’ is considered in terms of
three applications by Wright: (1) ‘‘The chance to see one’s own cultural image reflected as
valued in the school mirror, and to perceive one’s voice as heard in the school acoustic,’’ (2)
‘‘The right not to feel excluded, and to be able to take part in musicking without experien-
cing disadvantage or alienation,’’ and (3) ‘‘The right to remain musically and culturally
autonomous – not to be absorbed or have to conform to the dominant culture.’’ Enhance-
ment, which is defined as ‘‘The right to the tools for critical reflection upon the present and
the perception of possible new futures,’’ is offered two applications: (1) ‘‘The chance to
acquire the faculty of critical reflection upon the musical and cultural givens in one’s life,’’
and (2) ‘‘The right to perceive musical participation as possible in the future.’’ Participation,
which is defined as ‘‘The right to take part. The right to participate in situations where order
is formed and changed,’’ is applied by Wright to the field of music education as ‘‘The chance
to express an opinion about how musicking takes place and to have one’s opinion listened
to and respected. Decisions about music in the educational environment to be taken
wherever possible by a democratic process.’’ This vision offers useful insights that merit
consideration when reflecting upon the holistic effectiveness of a music ensemble program
in the context of a local community.
18. See Small (1998), p. 208. Although Chris Small does not mention this point, innovations
in music technology are leading to many new possibilities in this regard, particularly in
terms of the increased ease by which individuals may create, record, and distribute their
own music to peers throughout the world. There are also many new possibilities for music
learning through online communities. For further information, see Hebert (2008) and
Ruthmann and Hebert (in press).
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Afterword
We’re the real countries; not the boundaries drawn on

maps, the names of powerful men. – The English Patient
(multiple Oscar-winning film)
Thinking back, it is hard to believe that over 15 years have passed since I first
observed a Japanese middle school band rehearsal in Kofu City. That was 1995,
and I vividly recall how impressed I was with the band’s mature performance as
well as the unique sound of the composition itself, which I later learned was an
original piece by Kyoto composer Tetsunosuke Kushida. This was the time when
I first began to recognize the adoption and mastery of artistic practices from
abroad as a striking feature of contemporary Japan. I had also begun to notice
that many Japanese seemed to have a clearer understanding of global events than
most Americans I had known, and possessed a profound aesthetic sensibility.
Since that time, I have enjoyed the tremendous privilege of interviewing most
of the leading Japanese composers in the wind band idiom, including Toshio
Mashima, Yasuhide Ito, Hiroshi Hoshina, Masamichi Amano, Isao Matsushita,
and Tetsunosuke Kushida, as well as a man often credited as the ‘‘father of
modern Japanese wind bands’’ conductor Toshio Akiyama. I have also learned
greatly from friendships developed over the years with the director of Sekishi
Wind Ensemble, Tatsutoshi Abe, as well as the conductor of the Japan Self
Defense Forces Central Band, Lieutenant Colonel Akira Takeda, sociologist
and band director Kanichi Abe, band scholar Katsuhiro Nakanowatari, and
especially the prolific internationalist scholar Professor Shuhei Hosokawa, of
Nichibunken.
It has been a great pleasure to observe rehearsals of outstanding ensembles
in the greater Tokyo area, including the Kunitachi College of Music Wind
Ensemble, Toho Gakuen Wind Ensemble, Komazawa University High
School Band, Tokai University High School Band, Sakuragawa Middle
School Band, and many others. It has also been a great honor to repeatedly
visit the headquarters of Japan’s leading professional bands, including what is
arguably the world’s finest professional civilian wind ensemble, Tokyo Kosei
Landscapes: the Arts, Aesthetics, and Education 9, DOI 10.1007/978-94-007-2178-4,
274 Afterword
Wind Orchestra, as well as Japan’s oldest professional orchestral ensemble,

the Osaka Municipal Symphonic Band. My understanding has also benefitted
from some contact with professional conductors who frequently direct leading
Japanese bands, including a rare opportunity to speak – albeit very briefly –
with the late maestro Frederick Fennell, as well as a few conversations, both in
person and by email, with Douglas Bostock. There was so much to learn from
each of these experiences, more than can possibly be conveyed in a single
book. I must also express my sincere appreciation for scholarly grants that
enabled this research to proceed across several years, as awarded by three
institutions: (1) Japan Ministry of Education, Culture, Sports Science and
Technology, (2) International Research Center for Japanese Studies (Nichi-
bunken), a division of the National Institutes for the Humanities, and (3)
National Band Association (of the United States).
It is interesting to recall how Japanese musicians and educators have
responded to this unusual choice of research topic, and how my perceptions
changed over time, especially as I gained a deeper understanding of Japanese
language and culture. Many whom I interviewed were incredibly generous, and
inexplicable generosity is a trait I have quite often encountered in Japan. In fact,
on two completely different occasions (despite my attempted refusals) I was
given valuable trumpets by insistent Japanese men who were elderly and heavy
smokers that could no longer play music themselves. I have often wondered
what they saw in me, or in their experience of Western music, that made them so
determined to freely give away such valuable instruments to a younger Amer-
ican trumpeter, but that also seems to be a story for another book. Japanese
composers and band managers often generously provided me with multiple CD
recordings so I could have access to their latest accomplishments, and many
were quite candid and forthcoming with insightful stories. I sincerely hope this
book will satisfy their expectations.
One thing that struck me as particularly interesting was how often I encoun-
tered major figures in Japan’s band scene who expressed deep regrets regarding
the current state of Japanese bands. I had begun this research with only some
knowledge of the positive side of Japanese band achievement, so this was at first
rather difficult to understand. Gradually the concerns associated with militar-
istic practices in Japanese wind bands became much more apparent. Younger
musicians also frequently cautioned me that the official ‘‘history’’ of Japanese
bands is fundamentally flawed, that I should not place much faith in what has
been published on this topic by Japanese band directors, and that it would only
become possible to write an accurate history when some of the band move-
ment’s current leaders pass away. This warning, which I received from multiple
sources across a period of several years, initially caused me to limit my historical
discussion to one chapter in this book, written in a manner that left some
questions open, and to effectively postpone producing a more comprehensive
history of Japanese bands. However, an unfortunate turn of events that entailed
some deeply disappointing false accusations compelled me to abruptly shift
Afterword 275
direction by delving as deeply as possible into the challenge of producing a

thorough historical account.
As I hope this discussion has demonstrated, there are many with vested
interests and competing agendas associated with the current system, and even
an entire industry of instrument makers, clinicians, composers, and publishers
dependent on maintaining the status quo. Certainly the status quo entails many
notable strengths, and all who contribute to the successes of this remarkable
system deserve acknowledgement, yet at the same time successes in one domain
may limit the possibilities for positive transformation in another.
Sometimes I recall a time when I was told by the adjudicator of a wind band
research organization that Japanese bands had ‘‘already been studied’’ and
there was ‘‘nothing new’’ that my work could offer to the field. Apparently he
had seen a few brief clinic presentations by Japanese band directors who had
described repertoire and rehearsal techniques. He felt that was sufficient reason
to simply dismiss my work as not worth reading. I hope that readers of this
book – particularly younger scholars – who inevitably find themselves facing
similar situations at times, will take heart in the fact that persistence may
eventually trump the prejudices of bitter nay-sayers who value power more
highly than knowledge, beauty, or justice. One can only hope to learn from such
experiences, strive never to become bitter and closed-minded oneself, and joy-
ously embrace the growing responsibilities that come with conscientious scho-
larship. It is clear to me that much was learned from pursuing this project, and I
remain confident that some readers will find this book has been worth their time
as well.
Writing is always a challenge, and I am in awe of authors who manage to
produce several notable publications across a lifetime of devoted scholarship. It
has been an honor to learn from such people, one of whom was my dissertation
supervisor, Patricia Shehan Campbell. I am also indebted to Steven Morrison
for all he taught me about instrumental music education, and to Timothy
Salzman and Norihisa Yamamoto, who guided my studies in wind conducting.
As I first embarked on this topic, helpful bits of wisdom were also obtained
from conversations with Bruno Nettl, Gerald Groemer, Christopher Blasdel,
Chris Vincent, and Bonnie Wade. I thank Charles Keil for his inspiring corre-
spondence, as well as Timothy Kern and both Kensho Takeshi and Masafumi
Ogawa for encouraging and supporting my studies of music education in Japan.
Japanese scholars Mitsuko Isoda and Koji Matsunobu have been tremendously
generous and helpful, particularly in terms of steering me toward a more
accurate understanding of Japanese society. At the final stages of this book,
physicist Hiro Shimoyama was especially helpful in reconfirming my under-
standing of the contents of Japanese documents. I would also like to thank
Henry Johnson and Jere Humphreys for providing outstanding models of
rigorous scholarship, and for encouraging me to be courageous in my own
writings. Liora Bresler deserves enormous credit, both for providing an inspir-
ing model of global scholarship and for long seeing potential in my work that
led her to publish this book as part of her innovative series on Springer press,
276 Afterword
Landscapes – The Arts, Aesthetics and Education. Above all, I must heartily
thank all the Japanese musicians who participated in this research, including the
school band members who shared so much of their time with me. It has been a
tremendous honor to enjoy such profound opportunities as one progresses
onward toward a deeper understanding of music and human life.
Bergen, Norway David G. Hebert

Glossary
Anime [アニメ] Animated feature films, often with music soundtracks that
become popular among Japanese youth
Awanai [合わない] ‘‘(It) doesn’t match’’: to not fit or blend in
Basuto [バスト] Bass trombone (slang abbreviation)
Bon [ボーン] Trombone (slang abbreviation)
Bucho [部長] [Band] club leader
Buin [部員] [Band] club members
Bukatsudo [部活動] Extracurricular school club activity
Buraban [ブラバン] Wind band [derived from ‘‘brass band’’]
Chiiki [地域] Community
Chimo namidamonai [血も涙もない] ‘‘No blood or tears’’: uncaring, inhumane
Chindonya [チンドン屋] Informal and gawdily attired street musicians who
have performed to promote sales in Japan since the start of the twentieth
century.
Chuui suru [注意する] To look after, to watch over
Chuuningu [チューニング] ‘‘Tuning’’: to match pitch
Daisempai [大先輩] ‘‘Big sempai’’: alumni from years past
Danketsu [団結] Solidarity, unity
Dejima [出島] Literally ‘‘exit island,’’ a man-made port near Nagasaki prior to
the Meiji period
Doutoku Kyoiku [道徳教育] Moral education (civics class)
Dokyusei [同級生] Classmates of the same grade/year
Enryo [遠慮] Restraint and subtlety
277
278 Glossary
Fukikata [吹き方] ‘‘Way to blow’’ (an instrument)

Fuku Bucho [副部長] Assistant [band] club leader
Futarigumi [二人組み] ‘‘Leaning pair’’ (a breathing exercise)
Gakki [楽器] Musical instrument
Gakunen [学年] Grade/year in school
Gakusei [学生] Student (term used primarily by students)
Gambare [頑張れ] To try one’s very best, give great efforts
Gamman [我慢] To endure, persevere
Gassou [合奏] Full ensemble rehearsal
Geidai [芸大] [Tokyo] University of Arts
Go kuro sama [ご苦労様] Thank you for your pain/for giving until it hurts
Hajime [はじめ] Beginning, start
Hiten [飛天] Flying celestial beings, or Buddhist angels
Hougaku [邦楽] Japanese traditional music
Ichi on jobutsu [一音成仏] Enlightenment from a single tone
Ichinensei [一年生] First year student
Iemoto [家元] Head of school, in a traditional system of master/discipleship
Ii ko [いい子] ‘‘Good kid’’: well-behaved child(ren)
Inkai [委員会] Committee; closed meeting
Isshoukenmei [一生懸命] To devote all of oneself to something
Itai [痛い] It hurts
Jinta [ジンタ] Informal street bands, marching bands
Jiyukyoku [自由曲] Free piece (music chosen freely for competition
performance)
Jougekankei [上下関係] System of hierarchical relationships based on seniority
Juku [塾] A ‘‘cram school’’ for supplemental tutoring
Kadaikyoku [課題曲] Required piece for band contest
Kagura [神楽] Shinto ritual music
Kayokyoku [歌謡曲] Popular music piece (band arrangement of pop song)
Keigo [敬語] Formal language used with one’s superiors
Glossary 279
Kimochiwo shuchu [気持ちを集中する] ‘‘Focus feelings’’: to give one’s ultimate

concentration
Kochosensei [校長先生] School principal
Kohai [後輩] Younger/junior
Kokoro de hiku [心で弾く] ‘‘Play through the heart’’: to give an expressive
performance
Kokoro o hitotsu [心を一つ] ‘‘Make into one heart’’, or unite as one
Konkuru [コンクール] [Band] Contest
Kosei Uindo [佼成ウィンド] Abbreviation for Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra
Kotekitai [鼓笛隊] Fife and drum ensemble
Kotowaza [諺] Traditional Japanese proverb
Kimigayo [君が代] The Japanese national anthem
Kiritsu [規律・起立] ‘‘Discipline!’’: Call to stand at attention as Sensei enters
class
Kisoren [基礎練] ‘‘Basi-prac’’: fundamentals (e.g. scales, arpeggios)
Kura [クラ] Clarinet (slang abbreviation)
Kurashikku [クラシック] ‘‘Classical’’ art music
Kuro [苦労] Suffering/pain
Kyo-En [響宴] Poetic name of a Japanese organization promoting wind band
composition, literally translated as ‘‘celebration of echoes’’
Kyoryoku [協力] Cooperation
Kyousou [競争] Competition
Mane suru [真似する] To imitate (e.g. teacher behavior, recorded sound, etc.)
Manga [漫画] Japanese comic book
Muragaru [群がる] To herd, or flock
Matomatteru [まとまってる] Cohesion/cooperation
Mo ichido [もう一度] Again, one more time
Mushi suru [無視する] To intentionally ignore someone
Nakama hazure [仲間はずれ] ‘‘Outside the center’’: ostracized, boycotted
Ninensei [二年生] Second-year student
Okashi [おかしい] Weird, strange, bizarre
280 Glossary
Onaka de fuku [お腹で吹く] ‘‘Blow through the stomach’’: to perform with

energy
Otsukare sama [お疲れ様] Thank you for giving your all/until exhausted
Owari [終わり] Finish, end, conclusion
Paato [パート] Instrumental section (e.g. flute players)
Paatore [パートレ] Slang for sectional rehearsal: from ‘‘part’’ and ‘‘renshu’’
Petto [ペット] Trumpet (slang abbreviation)
Poppusu suteeji [ポップスステージ] Popular music performance
Rangaku [蘭学] Dutch studies, or studies of western knowledge
Rappa [ラッパ] Trumpet, or bugle
Rei [礼] Call to bow in unison toward Sensei (after ‘‘kiritsu’’ is called)
Renshu [練習] To rehearse, practice
Sempai [先輩] Elder/senior
Sensei [先生] Teacher/master/maestro
Seito [生徒] Pupil (term used primarily by teachers/administrators)
Sannensei [三年生] Third year student
Sousukan [総好かん] Boycotted, ostracized from a clique
Suisogakubu [吹奏楽部] Wind band club
Tatemae [建て前] Orderly image projected in the pubic sphere
Tokuikutekina shido [徳育的な指導] Moral education
Ukiyoe [浮世絵] Edo-period woodblock print artworks depicting daily life in
Japan
Warewo wasureru [我を忘れる] ‘‘Lose oneself in [music]’’: to rehearse into a
trance
Yubi [指] Finger, instrument fingerings
Yubi de oboeru [指で覚える] ‘‘Remember by fingers’’: memorize via repetitive
drilling
Yufo [ユーフォ] Euphonium (slang abbreviation)
Zokugo [俗語] Slang terminology, lingo
Name Index
A Bersma, R. P., 45, 62

Abdoo, F. B., 8 Berz, W., 178
Abe, I., 65 Bestor, T. C., 105–106
Abe, K., 273 Birnbaum, M., 247
Abe, T., 273 Blum, S., 168–169
Adachi, T., 133, 156–157, 168 Bohlman, P. V., 152
Adal, R., 65–66, 225, 248 Bowman, W., 49, 69
Adderley, C., 179 Boxer, C. R., 45, 61
Akiyama, T., 26, 41, 67, 160, 273 Breen, J., 45, 61, 63
Alexander, L., 182, 189, 256 Bresler, L., 85, 93–94, 224, 275
Allen, W. D., 151 Burdett, N. D., 150, 152–153, 204, 213
Allison, A., 233, 236 Burke, P. J., 236
Allsup, R. E., 68, 270 Burland, K., 235
Almeida, L. de, 18, 61 Burnsed, V., 152
Amano, M., 42, 160, 162–167, 169, 273 Burt, P., 64–65
Aoyagi, H., 232, 236
Arnold, M., 159–160
Asakawa, M., 45, 62–63 C
Aspinall, R., 47, 64, 68, 248 Caimi, J. F., 178–179
Atkins, E. T., 36, 66, 93 Calhoun, C., 60, 72
Austin, J. R., 152, 189, 256 Campbell, P. S., 92–93, 121, 218, 225, 235,
255–256, 275
Caron, F., 19
B Cave, P., 47, 64, 68, 89, 93, 179, 248, 265
Baethge, W., 53, 70, 72 Ceausescu, N., 149
Bakan, M. B., 93 Cesarini, F., 160
Bandou, R., 8, 47, 131 Chance, J. B., 41
Barber, C. F., 115, 122, 189 Chomsky, N., 70
Barnard, C., 247 Chou, I., 149, 152
Barnes, J., 159–160 Chua, A., 70
Barry, N. H., 270 Coelho, V. A., 62
Bartok, B., 159–160 Coffman, D. D., 254, 256, 270
Baumann, S., 212, 214 Cohen, R. S., 152, 193, 200
Beauchamp, E. R., 65 Colwell, R. J., 8, 122, 255
Ben-Ari, E., 248 Conway, C., 179
Benedict, C., 68 Cook, K., 8
Bergh, Van de, 21 Cook, Van de, 21
Bergman, C., 248 Cornwallis, K., 17, 61
Bergsma, T., 19, 26 Cramer, R. E., 8, 166
281
282 Name Index
Creech, A., 269 Frois, L., 18

Cresswell, T., 69 Fruhstuck, S., 248
Crosnoe, R., 225 Fujii, T., 45, 63
Cutts, R. L., 200 Fukuda, Y., 62, 167
Fukunaka, F., 66
Fukushima, H., 167
D Fukuyama, M., 236
Dairoku, K., 37, 66 Fukuzawa, R. E., 89, 93–94, 173, 179,
Daughtry, J. M., 248 185, 190
Davidson, J. W., 190, 235, 256 Furuya, H., 28
Davies, H., 213–214
Davies, S., 69, 213–214, 251, 255
Debussy, C., 162 G
DeCoker, G., 179 Gagne, R. M., 121
Dittrich, R., 39 Galliano, L., 22, 32, 46, 60, 62–66, 70–71
Doeff, H., 19 Gardner, H. E., 122
Donahue, R. T., 169 Garrett, J. U., 67
Dorow, L. G., 182, 189, 256 Gavin, M., 65
Downey, D. B., 236 Gaye, M., 233
Drummond, J., 269 Gee, J. P., 235
Duke, B., 222, 225 Gill, R. D., 18, 62
Duke, R. A., 122, 256 Giurchescu, A., 152
Dweck, C. S., 185, 190 Gjerde, P. F., 235
Gladwell, M., 169, 236
Glazunov, A., 159–160
E Glejser, H., 153
Ebisawa, A., 45, 62, 213 Gonzalez, N., 93
Ebisawa, B., 213 Good, E. M., 213–214
Eckert, F., 14, 29–30, 35, 39, 52–54, 58, 64, Goodrich, A., 256
70, 72 Gordon, A., 225
Edwards, R. H., 255 Gordon, E., 122, 225
Ehrlich, C., 214 Goto, Y., 167
Eppstein, U., 45, 62–63, 65, 70, 94, 179 Gottschewski, H., 52–53, 60, 70, 269
Eulenburg, C., 22, 63 Gottschewski, M., 269
Everett, Y. U., 8, 93 Gould, M., 159–160
Ewbank, A. J., 69 Green, L., 236
Groemer, G., 65, 69–70, 111, 121, 169,
248, 275
F Groulx, T. J., 60
Faulds, H., 30, 65 Gunderson, F., 147, 151
Faulkner, R. R., 188, 190, 256 Gutzwiller, A., 112, 121
Fennell, F., 41–42, 211, 274
Fenton, J. W., 14, 26–30, 39, 46–47, 52–54,
57–59, 63–64, 70, 72 H
Fernandez, J. W., 219, 225 Hahn, T., 224
Finn, D., 46, 65 Hall, F., 125–128, 131, 135–136, 144, 147,
Finney, P., 61 166, 200, 210–211, 220, 233, 236
Flaes, R. B., 28, 64 Hall, S., 236, 259, 269
Folkestad, G., 240, 247 Hallam, S., 256, 269
Frederic, L., 15, 45, 61 Halliwell, P., 112–113, 122
French, H. W., 247 Hamamoto, N., 68
Frith, S., 236 Hammer, C., 71
Fritsch, I., 66 Hancock, H., 43
Name Index 283
Hansen, R. K., 8 Iida, M., 46

Hara, H., 157 Iijima, T., 167–168
Hara, T., 46 Imada, T., 48–52, 54, 69–71
Hargreaves, D. J., 9, 92, 179, 236, 240, 247 Inoue, K., 65, 236
Harich-Schneider, E., 60 Isawa, S., 14, 31–32, 40, 46, 50, 52–55, 58, 65,
Hash, P. M., 66 70–71, 176, 243
Haske, De, 59 Ishimoto, K., 8, 47, 131, 214
Hayasaka, F., 39 Isoda, M., 68, 70
Healey, G., 46 Itasaka, G., 71
Heath, S. B., 268, 270 Ito, Y., 9, 42, 62, 155, 162–169, 200, 273
Hebert, D. G., 8–9, 46–47, 60–62, 66–67, Iwasaki, K., 269
69–70, 72, 93, 122, 131, 141, 168–169, 200, Iwawa, N., 179
214, 225, 235, 248, 255–256, 269–270, 276
Heifetz, R. J., 17, 61, 65
Heikinheimo, T., 225 J
Heimonen, M., 70, 256 Jansen, M. B., 45, 62, 70
Heller, G. N., 60 Jenkins, N., 8
Henninger, J. C., 122 Jobim, A. C., 161
Herbert, T., 72 Johnson, H., 9, 68, 247–249, 259–260,
Herd, J. A., 62 269, 275
Hess, N., 159 Johnson, M. L., 219–220, 224–225
Heyndels, B., 153 Johnson, R., 68
Hill, W., 159, 239 Jones, P., 68
Hindemith, P., 41 Jorgensen, E. R., 218, 224–225, 269
Hiramatsu, H., 66
Hiyama, R., 22, 45, 63, 72, 205, 213–214
Hoffman, D. M., 227, 235 K
Holst, G., 41 Kachaturian, A., 159–160
Holz, E. A., 66 Kaempfer, E., 16, 61
Hongo, J., 248 Kahn, J., 47, 68
Horiuchi, K., 35, 65 Kajo, N., 66
Hoshina, H., 9, 42, 162–165, 169, 200, 273 Kakehashi, I., 208–209, 214
Hoskin, B., 69 Kamiya, S., 64
Hosler, M., 152–153 Kaplan, P. R., 182, 189
Hosokawa, S., 21, 30, 34–36, 46, 48, 55–56, Kaplinsky, R., 214–215
60, 63, 65–66, 68, 71, 214, 273 Karlsen, S., 269
Howard, V. A., 122, 186, 190 Kasahara, K., 45, 62
Howe, C., 29, 47, 69 Kasaya, K., 196, 201
Howe, S. W., 65, 70 Kashiwagi, H., 233, 236–237
Hozumi, T., 35 Kato, M., 64
Hughes, D. W., 60 Kawaguchi, M., 92
Humphreys, J. T., 8, 66, 69, 122, 269, 275 Kawai, H., 209
Humphreys, M., 8 Kawai, K., 209
Hunsberger, D., 183 Kawai, S., 209
Hunter, J., 45, 63 Kawakami, G., 47, 149, 152, 205–208, 214
Hurst, C. W., 152 Kawanari, Y., 200, 214
Kaye, S. T., 71
Keil, C., 270, 275
I Kelly, S. N., 67, 72
Ibert, J., 159 Kendall, N., 86, 93
Ienaga, S., 241 Kennedy, M., 178
Ifukube, A., 39 Kertz-Welzel, A., 256
Iggers, G. G., 61 Kiester, G. J., 190, 200
284 Name Index
Kikkawa, C., 65 Malina, M., 61

Kimura, N., 69 Malm, W. P., 112, 121–122
Kingsbury, H. A., 93 Mamiya, M., 40
Kinney, C. J., 89, 93 Manabe, N., 53, 70
Kitayama, A., 52, 68, 70, 176, 179, 190 Manes, S. I., 70
Kitayama, S., 179, 190 Mans, M., 247, 260, 269
Kiyoshiro, I., 245 Markus, H. R., 179, 190
Kluger, J., 47, 68 Marshall, N. A., 179
Kobayashi, T., 46, 64, 213 Marutani, A., 199–200
Koda, N., 29–30, 65 Mashima, T., 42, 47, 162–166, 169
Kodaly, Z., 160 Mashino, S., 69
Koh, C. S., 157, 168 Mason, L. W., 14, 30–32, 40, 46, 50, 52, 54,
Kohn, A., 137, 141, 150–151, 153 58, 70–71, 243
Koide, M., 67–68, 106 Massenet, J., 159
Koizumi, K., 236 Mathews, G., 165, 169
Komiya, T., 55, 71 Matsuki, T., 167
Koopman, C., 251, 255 Matsunobu, K., 47, 64, 66, 68, 121–122, 169,
Kraus, R. C., 33, 65 215, 248, 275
Krushinsky, A., 151 Matsushita, I., 15, 42, 61, 162–165, 273
Kudo, T., 28, 64 May, E., 65
Kume, K., 46, 64 May, W. V., 122
Kuropatkin, A. N., 34 Maynard, M. L., 178
Kurosawa, A., 40 Mayuzumi, T., 39–40
Kushida, T., 159, 162, 164–165, McCarthy, M., 92–93, 217, 224, 255
168–169, 273 McConnell, D., 241, 247
Kuwahara, K., 45 McDonald, R., 42, 67, 214
Kuwayama, T., 221, 225 McKinley, J. C., 247
McLaughlin, M. W., 268, 270
McLelland, M., 93
L McPherson, G. E., 122, 178, 256
Lakoff, G., 219–220, 224–225 McVeigh, B. J., 200
Lamont, A., 176, 179 Mehl, M., 8, 47
Lang, L., 43 Meij, J. de, 59
Latham, A., 151 Melillo, S., 159
Lau, F., 8, 93 Miell, D. E., 9, 236, 247
LeBlanc, A., 255 Miller, L., 190
Lebra, T. S., 64, 243, 248, 260, 269 Miller, R. C., 31–32, 54, 65, 70
Lee, A. H., 69–70, 248 Miller, R. E., 152–153
Lee, H. C., 69 Minamino, H., 62
Lepherd, L., 85, 93 Miranda, M. L., 214
Leroux, C., 30 Mitsui, T., 46, 67
LeTendre, G. K., 9, 37, 47, 66, 94, 122, Mitsumori, H., 94, 269
177–179, 190, 247 Miyamoto, K., 236
Levinson, B., 93 Miyamoto, M., 225
Lewis, C., 222, 225 Miyamoto, Y., 173, 179, 208, 214, 236
Luhmer, K., 176, 179 Miyazawa, K., 167
Miyoshi, A., 165
Miyoshi, T., 51, 70
M Montanus, A., 16, 45, 61
MacDonald, R. A. R., 9, 236, 247 Montemayor, M., 122
Maehara, Y., 45, 62–63 Moody, W. J., 152
Magnus, A., 33, 45, 62, 65 Moore, J. E., 66
Makiguchi, T., 206, 214 Moorhouse, L., 166
Name Index 285
Moroi, S., 46, 51 Perry, M. C., 14, 21, 45

Morrison, S. J., 121–122, 275 Phoasavadi, P., 151
Muller, G., 247 Pier, D. G., 151
Münzel, S. C., 61 Pinto, F. M., 17–18
Pipher, M., 186, 190
Polk, K., 70
N Ponick, F. S., 150, 152–153
Nagai, S., 29, 65 Pope, E. W., 22, 46, 62–63
Nakahashi, Y., 167–168 Posthuma, A., 214–215
Nakamura, K., 46, 63, 71 Powell, K., 224
Nakamura, R., 45–46, 55, 60, 63, 71 Price, H. E., 122, 232, 236
Nakanowatari, K., 44, 68–69, 273 Pringsheim, K., 39
Nakao, H., 68, 249 Printz, W. C., 146
Nakatani., 43 Psalmanazar, G., 15–17, 45, 61
Nakayama, F., 64, 66, 71 Puccini, G., 159–160
Negus, K., 227, 236 Putnam, R. D., 268, 270
Neidig, K. L., 153, 156, 168, 189
Neill, S., 122
Nelson, D. J., 122 R
Nettl, B., 12, 60, 69, 93, 275 Ravel, M., 160, 233
Nicholas, J. C., 61 Raykoff, I., 152
Ninomiya, K., 65 Reed, A., 41, 159–160
Nishizaka, T., 69 Reed, E. J., 63, 160
Nitobe, I., 46, 64–65 Reid, G., 214
Niwano, N., 127, 131, 211 Reimer, B., 269
North, A. C., 92, 179 Renwick, J., 256
Respighi, O., 159–160
Reynish, T., 8
O Reynolds, H. R., 189
Obata, Y., 26, 28, 37, 40, 46–47, 56, 63–67, Rice, T., 9, 93, 236, 256
70–71 Richards, E. M., 47
Odello, D., 152 Richardson, C., 8, 122
Ogawa, M., 32, 46, 65, 70, 92, 94, 200, 275 Robinson, D. T., 236
Ohnuki-Tierney, E., 61 Rodriguez, C., 270
Okada, H., 157 Roesgaard, M. H., 64, 70, 106, 201
Okano, K., 236 Rohlen, T. P., 93, 122, 178, 190
Oku, S., 92, 94 Roost, Jan Van der., 59
Okunaka, Y., 24, 46, 63 Rostropovich, M., 206
Olsen, R., 214 Ruthmann, A., 256, 270
Omori, S., 62
Onishi, M., 235
Organtino, A., 18, 26 S
Ortner, S. B., 9, 93, 235, 237 Saeki, S., 45, 62, 72
Osanai, T., 209 Safier, J., 151
Otori, R., 62 Saiki, K., 65
Ouishi, K., 41, 66–67 Saito, H., 169, 179
Owens, T. J., 236 Saito, N. E., 179, 225
Saito, Y., 214
Sakai, I., 18, 167
P Sakai, T., 167
Papageorgiou, F. T., 69 Salzman, T., 8, 275
Parncutt, R., 122 Sasai, H., 269
Pecore, J. T., 94 Sasaki, N., 32
286 Name Index
Sato, H., 94, 236 Takashima, A., 20

Sawano, Y., 269 Takazawa, T., 60
Saxonhouse, G., 47 Takemitsu, T., 47, 165, 214
Schmidt, P., 62 Takeshi, K., 8, 46, 52, 70, 275
Sheldon, D. A., 94, 152, 232, 236 Takeuchi, Y., 45, 62, 67
Shelemay, K. K., 60 Takizawa, T., 70
Shepherd, G., 248 Tanabe, H., 38, 66
Shiba, S., 53 Tanaka, K., 35, 46, 69, 72, 169, 203, 213, 215
Shimahara, N. K., 224 Tanimura, M., 46, 65, 69
Shimizu, H., 225, 235 Tanosaki, K., 47
Shinzanno, M., 67, 69, 106 Tarr, E. H., 213
Shiotsu, Y., 55, 64, 71 Tatebe, T., 167
Shirodayu, T., 20 Tatsuta, Y., 269
Shive, C., 22, 45, 63 Taylor, J. A., 69, 93, 270
Shostakovich, D., 163–164 Taylor, T. D., 93
Shuji, I., 14, 31, 46, 50, 52, 176, 243 Tchaikovsky, P. I., 133, 159–160
Siebold, P. F. von, 20 Teeuwen, M., 45, 61
Sinatra, F., 161 Tindall, B., 236
Singleton, J., 201, 248 Tobe, R., 63
Sloboda, J., 190 Tobin, R. D., 152
Small, C., 225, 269–270 Togashi, T., 8, 47, 131
Smith-Lovin, L., 236 Tokita, A. M., 60
Sochinski, J., 152 Tokumaru, Y., 94
Southcott, J., 69–70, 248 Tommasini, A., 68
Sparke, P., 159 Tomoda, T., 69
Spencer, P., 151 Tomosha, O., 40, 47, 59
Stake, R. E., 85, 93 Touya, M., 60
Starrs, R., 68, 247–248 Toyama, Y., 37, 39–40
Stauffer, S. L., 182, 189 Trimillos, R. D., 112, 121–122
Staunton, G., 33, 65 Tsuchihashi, M., 236
Stephens, C. S., 68, 169, 248 Tsuchiya, M., 236
Stern, R., 47 Tsuda, U., 29
Stets, J. E., 236 Tsujii, N., 43, 47
Stevens, R. S., 69 Tsukada, Y., 69
Stiglitz, J., 47, 70 Tsukahara, Y., 8, 37, 39, 45–46, 56, 60–61,
Stock, J. P. J., 60, 190 63, 65–66, 71
Stokes, M., 49, 69, 93, 236 Tsunenaga, H., 62
Strauss, R., 159–160 Tsuruma, K., 236
Sugamo, 90 Tsutsumi, M., 66, 152
Sugawa, N., 166 Tsuzuki, C., 46
Sugihara, M., 46, 66 Tucker, A., 61
Sugimoto, K., 167 Tudge, J., 221, 225
Sugimoto, Y., 64, 70, 106, 167 Turino, T., 93
Sunaga, K., 38, 66 Turnbull, S., 45, 62
Suppan, W., 53, 70, 72
Suzuki, H., 66, 71, 169, 203
Suzuki, S., 30, 47 V
Valignano, A., 16, 18, 26, 45
Vallo, V., 179
T Vaubel, R., 152
Takahagi, Y., 92, 94, 204, 213 Vispoel, W. P., 189
Takahashi, M., 61 Vogt Yuan, A. S., 236
Takahashi, S., 168 Vygotsky, L. S., 182, 189, 217–218
Name Index 287
W Y
Wade, B., 8, 60, 62, 65, 275 Yagi, S., 40, 68
Wakin, D. J., 47, 68 Yamada, J., 248
Walls, K. C., 270 Yamada, K., 248
Walser, R., 224 Yamada, Y., 70
Watanabe, T., 159 Yamagiwa, J. K., 61
Weber, A. L., 161 Yamaha, T., 204
Webster, P., 255 Yamamoto, M., 40
Wenger, E., 200, 217–218, 225 Yamamoto, T., 64
West, S., 62 Yang, M., 8
Whelan, B., 159 Yano, C. R., 141, 190, 249
Whelan, C., 45, 62 Yano, K., 40
White, M., 89, 93, 190, 269 Yasuda, H., 54, 65, 70–71
Whiting, J. W. M., 236 Yellin, V. F., 20, 45, 62
Whitwell, J., 150, 153 Yoder, P. V., 40, 67
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Wind Bands and Cultural Identity in Japanese Schools

Landscapes: the Arts, Aesthetics, and Education

Liora Bresler, University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, U.S.A.

Eeva Antilla, Theatre Academy, Helsinki, Finland

For further volumes:

Wind Bands and Cultural

ISBN 978-94-007-2177-7 e-ISBN 978-94-007-2178-4

# Springer Science+Business Media B.V. 2012

Printed on acid-free paper

Springer is part of Springer ScienceþBusiness Media (www.springer.com)

David Hebert writes as an experienced band musician and director, music

Addressing music educators especially, David Hebert offers two theoretical

Berkeley, California Bonnie C. Wade

Part I A Social History of Wind Bands in Japanese Schools

1 The World’s Finest School Bands and Largest Music Competition . . 3

2 Where are These Bands From? – An Historical Overview . . . . . . . . . 11

2.7 Japanese Bands in the Mid-Twentieth Century . . . . . . . . . . . . 39

Part II An Ethnography of Wind Bands in Japanese Schools

3 An Invitation to the Tokyo Middle School . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 85

4 The Band Rehearsal Ritual and Its Participants. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 97

5 Instruction in the Japanese School Band . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 109

6 Scenes from the 50th AJBA National Band Competition . . . . . . . . . . 125

7 Winning in Band: Views from Beneath and Within. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 133

8 Winning in Band: Views from Above and Beyond. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 143

9 Japanese Composers and Wind Band Repertoire . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 155

10 Leadership and Duty in the Ensemble. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 171

11 Cooperative Learning and Mentorship in Band . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 181

12 Organizational Training of the Japanese Band Director . . . . . . . . . . 193

14 Metaphors of a Japanese Band Community . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 217

15 Musical Identity in the Band: Social Class and Gender . . . . . . . . . . . 227

15.3 Manga, Gaming, and Gender in School Bands . . . . . . . . . . . 233

16 National Identity in the Japanese School Band . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 239

17 Ensemble Ethos: Theorizing Cultures of Musical Achievement . . . . . 251

Name Index . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 281

2.1 Hiten at Todaiji temple, Nara . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16

D.G. Hebert, Wind Bands and Cultural Identity in Japanese Schools, 3

and even inconceivable reinterpretations of familiar practices upon adoption

be embraced, modified and mastered by other non-Western societies? Japanese

1.2 Writing Style and Research Background

is based on much more than ethnographic observations of a single band. As

D.G. Hebert, Wind Bands and Cultural Identity in Japanese Schools, 11

2.1 Methodological Approach

The method of this chapter may best be described as historical ethnomusicology.4

2.2 Chapter Overview

known regarding the earliest teaching of European music in Japan, including

concludes with discussion of the most recent developments in Japanese wind

2.3 Mythical Origins

2.3.1 Wind Instruments in Japanese Tradition

In ancient Japanese religious tradition, wind instruments are associated with

2.3.2 Psalmanazar and Other Early European Accounts

Much of the very earliest information Europeans received regarding musical

Fig. 2.1 Hiten at Todaiji temple, Nara

The above excerpt appeared in a book published in 1859 by Kinahan

2.4 From Zipangu through Dejima

2.4.1 Jesuit Music Instruction in Sixteenth Century Japan

popular among Japanese militia. Pinto later befriended Francis Xavier

living permanently in Japan or attempting to change Japanese society through

2.4.2 Dejima and Rangaku

painter-correspondent on Deshima.’’30 This is now believed by scholars to have

2.4.3 Music Transmission via the Nagasaki Kaigun Denshujo

2.4.4 Metallurgy, Early Trumpet Instruction, and Guttig’s Dream

By the mid-1860s, trumpet was a well-known instrument in Japan.51 Trumpets

2.4.5 Yamagunitai: Japan’s Oldest Westernized Band