Thursday, September 11, 2008
Huddled together, the sweat collecting on their necks, two hundred or more Japanese locals wait patiently in the dark for the next performance. Backstage, Travis Tewes, Lee’s Summit, Mo., senior, is thinking only of the show. The lyrics. How did they go again?
Maiku wo motteru kagiri ni,
Ore ha daijoubu dayo, zettai ni heiki…
Catching a late night show in another country is one thing, but actually performing in one is quite another. Tewes’ Japanese classmates from the nearby university are eager to see what this American will do. The DJ starts up the music as the low-fi lights begin to dance across the stage, signaling that the performance will soon be under way.
Tewes has done this before back home in the States, so why should he be more nervous? The people in the crowd begin clapping in anticipation. Tewes, using all his built-up stress, runs out on stage, mic in hand, and spits out a fast flow of Japanese rhymes over the pulsating bass lines and punching horn samples.
Tonight, Tewes is the American who raps in Japanese. Tomorrow morning, he’s just another student scrambling to finish his school assignments before they’re due.
While the rest of his friends were taking classes in Lawrence last spring, 21-year-old Travis Tewes, aka “Crazy T,” was rapping in Japanese in Fujisawa, Japan in front of a packed club the size of Lawrence’s the Bottleneck. Thousands of miles away from his friends, family and college professors, Tewes felt right at home.
On a study abroad program in Tokyo this past spring and summer, Tewes used his talent for rapping in both Japanese and English to push himself into an international hip-hop scene. He left the States hoping he’d have time to see his favorite Japanese rappers perform live. Instead, he wound up in the studio recording an album alongside them.
Hooked on a culture
Tewes doesn’t look like a Japanese rapper. It’s only in the baggy hip-hop attire that Tewes shares in appearance with the average Japanese emcee.
He was christened with the name “Crazy T” in middle school by friends because, even then, he was “crazy” about rhyming. In high school back in Lee’s Summit, Tewes would rap with a live hip-hop band, performing at local venues and house parties.
Tewes was first exposed to hip-hop at the age of 6 when his cousin, a DJ from Belize, made him a mixed tape of early 90s hip-hop hits. After that, Tewes says he was stuck on rap for life.
His first taste of the Japanese culture came in third grade during a month dedicated to learning about the cultures of different countries. Tewes remembers being able to relate to some of the cultures from Latin America with his father being from Belize, but something really clicked for Tewes when his class studied Japan. His eyes widened with interest as he learned about a country that “seemed like a completely different world.”
Tewes continued to learn about the culture through books on Japan that his parents bought for him. However, it wasn’t until he took up studying the language at KU the summer before his freshman year that Tewes truly began focusing on immersing himself in Japanese language and culture.
Sister city rap
Tewes’ first real-life exposure to Japanese hip-hop came during a summer study abroad program in 2006 to Hiratsuka, Lawrence’s sister city in Japan. There he met Japanese college student Tatsuya Yanagibashi, aka “Willow B,” through a mutual friend, and the two began to freestyle late into the night. These freestyle sessions led to stage performances at nearby clubs in town where Tewes would rap for the local crowds in their native tongue.
The inspiration for what Tewes raps about comes anywhere from his personal life to the current state of rap on the radio.
“I don’t really think what I want to say in English and translate it,” Tewes says. “When I’m in the Japanese mode in my brain, I don’t even think in English anymore.”
Tewes’ parents have been supportive of his penchant for music since he first started playing piano in second grade. But at times, they’ve had their share of questions. One night while talking to his father online from Japan, Tewes let him view his most recent show. This was his dad’s first time seeing him performin Japan, and his dad, Robert, was a little confused. Robert says he and his wife don’t follow hip-hop much, and he asked his son why he was holding a towel on stage, thinking it was some “hip-hop thing.”
“He said it was mostly because he would get sweaty on stage,” Robert says. “I told him I thought it was his flag or something to promote himself.”
Prominent rappers in Hiratsuka’s hip-hop scene also took notice of Tewes’sperformances and invited him to join in battle-rap sessions that would pop up around the city. Tewes stayed in contact with the emcees he met in Hiratsuka after he returned to the U.S. He e-mailed beats and rhymes to the emcees back in Japan and, over the next two years, began assembling songs and tracks to produce independent albums.
Rhyming in Japan, take two
Tewes arrived back in Japan in March 2008 and within three days he made his first connection with Tokyo’s underground hip-hop scene.
A rapper by the name of Gami was performing at a nearby club called Gas Panic. Gami was a member of the rap super-group Mousouzoku, Japan’s answer to the Wu-Tang Clan.
Tewes dropped by the club early just to see if he could meet the well-known rapper. He asked the doorman where he could find Gami, and he was taken to a VIP table in the back of the club. The two struck up a conversation, and Tewes suggested the two freestyle sometime.
“I asked him, ‘Yo, can I kick a freestyle with you sometime?’ and he said ‘Yeah, I’ll do it during my show,’” Tewes says.
True to his word, in the middle of his show in front of a packed audience of Japanese hip-hop lovers, Gami pulled Tewes on stage and the two began freestyling back and forth.
Gami says that while it was still unusual to see Americans rap in Japanese, he has been seeing more Americans trying it out. As for Tewes, Gami says he’s impressed with Tewes’ ability to freestyle in Japanese, and he wants to catch Tewes’ next live show.
Hip-hop 101
As Grandmaster Flash and The Furious Five were bringing hip-hop to the masses in the U.S. in the early 80s, Japan was following suit with its own lineup of artists who were trying to make this American-born sound their own. Hip-hop in Japan took off during these early days when Americans brought their sounds to American naval bases in Japanese cities such as Yokohama, says Ian Condry, author of Hip-Hop Japan: Rap and the Paths of Cultural Globalization.
Condry, associate professor of Japanese culture studies at MIT, says among the most prominent Japanese hip-hop groups in the underground, the group Soul Scream is most respected for representing socially conscious Japanese hip-hop.
Tewes had the opportunity to record a track with E.G.G. Man, one-third of Soul Scream. The group is noted for its strong presence in revitalizing Japanese hip-hop in the underground scene for the past decade, starting in 1995.
Recording a track
Through the shows Tewes attended and the people he met during his stay in Tokyo, he was able to contact the manager of E.G.G. Man. Tewes asked if he could schedule a time to meet with him and conduct an interview that he could later put online.
When Tewes visited the rapper’s studio, he said it didn’t feel any different than hanging out with a friend and recording a track together. It wasn’t until they mastered the song and played it in the studio that Tewes felt a chill over his body because he heard his voice alongside a legend in the Japanese hip-hop game.
“It’s like coming to America as a rapper from a different country and not even starting at the bottom and instead recording with Nas,” Tewes says. “It was surreal.”
E.G.G. Man says his first impression of Tewes was that he was a big guy who spoke Japanese well. After the two chatted for a couple hours and he had heard Tewes flow in Japanese, E.G.G. Man suggested they record a track together for an upcoming compilation album he was producing. On that same day, the two got together and wrote a song about each other’s hometowns and how hip-hop can cross borders.
“He has a very appealing voice and good flow and, most importantly, he has a great sense of music,” E.G.G. Man says.
When asked to describe his own rhyming style, E.G.G. Man has difficulty.
“That’s tough. I’m like a plane leaving New York and arriving in Japan on Japan Airline flight 141,” he says. “I’m like a car with a Ford engine tuned to a Lexus engine and thrown into a Toyota body.”
E.G.G. Man says he sees many Japanese artists rapping in English, but not the other way around. To him, it doesn’t matter whether it’s in Japanese or English, as long as the artist puts “soul into a song.”
The longer the nail…
Many underground Japanese hip-hop artists use their music to speak out on social issues and taboos that confront Japanese people on a daily basis. Confrontational Japanese rapper Hannya talked with Tewes backstage after a show in April about the “walking on eggshell” nature of addressing social problems in Japan’s polite society.
With a reputation in Japan on par with that of Talib Kweli in the States, Hannya has sold 5 million copies of his most recent album, a huge number relative to Japan’s size. Hannya raps in a brash style that’s a mix of Eminem and Ol’ Dirty Bastard.
Among the questions that Tewes asked Hannya was about the traditional Japanese saying, “The nail that sticks out gets hammered down,” referring to the cultural inclination of Japanese to choose conformity over unconventional attitudes and behavior. Hannya’s initial response was to laugh at the mention of this old phrase, but he replied that he didn’t care what others thought about his lyrics as long as he could still voice his opinions. From the imperial system to racial relations with Koreans, Hannya continues to challenge his fans by rapping about some of the biggest taboos in Japanese society.
Tewes met with Hannya three times during his stay in Japan and even talked to him about the hip-hop scene back in Lawrence. Tewes later received word from Hannya’s manager that Hannya and fellow Japanese rap superstar Ozrosaurus were interested in coming to Lawrence for a show.
Starting it up in Lawrence
Back home from the land of Hello Kitty and giant robots, Tewes yearns to take his game to the venues and parking lots of downtown Lawrence. In early 2000, hip-hop in Lawrence thrived when a weekly installment of local talent would perform on Fridays at the Bottleneck. The artists and groups consisted of up-and-coming talent from Kansas City who were studying at KU, but they have all since moved on.
One of the newcomers to the rebuilding of Lawrence hip-hop is Topeka-born John Westbrook, Jr. aka “Stik Figa,” who won last year’s annual KJHK Farmer’s Ball. Despite such success, Stik still sees Lawrence as always being “that rock town,” but he believes there’s potential for new blood like Tewes to move in.
“You got to have a winning attitude and if you’re going to make an impact, you really got to work hard.”
All that shines doesn’t shine forever, and if Tewes wants to get in on the scene, he’s going to need to make some connections and put in some hard work. Still intent on finishing school before anything else, Tewes isn’t looking to make a career out of rap abilities. He’s not in it for the money. The game of hip-hop is more a way to express his feelings on bringing hip-hop back to the days when rhyming was an art form.
“I don’t have any dream for getting famous. The only thing I want out of it is changing people’s mind about what hip-hop is,” Tewes says.
kawaranai kono kokorozashi kono kurutta sekai ni ikiteru ore ni kore shika nai, kono ikkai no inochi
My intention won’t change
for me living in this crazy world
all I have is this one life
It’s now close to 3 a.m. and Tewes, on stage for the past hour, is feeling it. During his last song, he raises his towel, punching it into the air along with the drum kick of the beat. His classmates in the crowd follow suit with the rest of the crowd as they follow his cue and thrust their fists into the air. Everyone in the club is moving back and forth hypnotized by the music and yelling back to Tewes’ call. He wants to smile, but he’s too busy being in the moment.
The song ends. As the people in the crowd shuffle towards the door, Tewes goes back stage to grab some water and a few moments to sit. He emerges from the club as just another international student in Japan on the weekend, leaving his stage persona behind with the empty, sweat-soaked floor. Tewes and his classmates just want to sleep.
They decide to use the nearby karaoke bar as a late night motel, paying for a place to crash instead of entertainment. Tewes slumps down on one of the cushion seats in the room and lets his mind wander. His next show is in two weeks, giving him time to work on the papers coming up in his classes.
For now, though, the rapper needs his rest.
— Special Thanks to Chiaki Gonda for translating the Japanese artist interviews
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Godzilla (anonymous) says...
This was a pretty cool article.
September 11, 2008 at 12:19 p.m. ( permalink | suggest removal )