master of regret

When I got down to mastering our new song yesterday, new ideas for the mix down struck me. But I’ve already declared the completion of the song. Trying the ideas means to return to the mix down again. I hesitated to do so because it really might throw me into an endless loop. I should accept closure for this project at some point or I would go on for the rest of my life. But, what if the ideas made the song drastically better? Can I leave the possibility untouched? I’m a master of regret and afraid that not trying would be added as one of the big regrets of my life. I’ve got too many regrets and can’t afford any more. I decided to try them. My partner thought I had finished the mastering and brought him a master disc when I told him about going back to the mix down instead. He was planning a trip. The trip was postponed for an indefinite period…

 

Episode From Surviving in Japan / Hidemi Woods

no safe place to keep the master disc

I’m preparing for mastering of our new song and the question of the moment is where to store the master discs. After making a number of backup discs, where should I keep each one of them? I will put one at the doorway of my apartment so that I take it with me outside in case of an earthquake. But what if a fire broke out? Online data storage seems a safer solution. But what if its server crashed? For that case, do I need to use a depository box at a bank? What if Mt. Fuji erupted and burned down Japan? I have a storage room in L.A. and I can store a disc there. But do I fly to L.A. just to bring one disc? I also have a storage room in Montreal but what if war broke out between US and Canada? There seems no safe place to keep the master disc. It’s valuable enough for me to think about possibilities although the value to the world is unknown…

 

Episode From Surviving in Japan / Hidemi Woods

Sign for what?

I was about to go to bed yesterday when I heard the ominous spattering sound in my room. Spring shifted to summer all of a sudden and I had turned on the air conditioner. The noise was a water leak from it. Beneath the air conditioner sits my PC with which I work for my music. I usually put plastic bags on the PC as a covering after each use and the water was dropping right down to it. It was a dreadful sight. I completely panicked and couldn’t figure out what to do first. Then I tried to turn off the air conditioner with a stereo remote. And I tried to grab a floor cloth to wipe up the water but couldn’t find my slippers. The PC holds our new song that had been finally completed yesterday after seven years. I thought the water was draining away the song and my seven years. Thankfully, the computer didn’t get wet while the monitor got a few droplets from the edge of the plastic cover. What are the odds that a water leak aiming at a PC happens on the same day when a song gets finished on the very PC? Is this some sort of a sign? Sign for what? Not to tweak the song any further? Or, to wipe the slate clean and start all over again? I couldn’t sleep well from thinking about it and from the heat without air conditioning…

 

Episode From Surviving in Japan / Hidemi Woods

long way to go

I finished the mix down of our new song today. That means the song at long last got completed. I had worked on this song for seven years. I put into this song everything I have, everything I want to say to this world, and everything I’ve felt in my life. So, I’m virtually done. I celebrated with a bottle of sparkling wine instead of champagne that is too expensive for me. When opening the bottle, the plastic cork rocketed to the ceiling and made a mark. Still, the project is far from being over. I need to burn it on CDs, save it in several different kinds of format, and archive the data. I can see a long way to go before I get a sense of achievement…

 

Episode From Surviving in Japan / Hidemi Woods

They felt a sense of comedy

Our new song ‘Sunrise’ has been completed and sent out to a distributor. It’s finally released and available worldwide, that I’d been hoping for a long time. The distributor put up the song on online stores. I had looked forward to seeing ‘Sunrise’ displayed there. When I was looking around them, something caught my eye. They categorize songs according to genres. ‘Sunrise’ is categorized in six genres, like pop/general etc. One of them is miscellaneous/comedy. They felt a sense of comedy in ‘Sunrise’ when they categorized it. It’s interesting because I wrote this song being dead serious with a deep theme…

became her new superstition

New Year is the biggest holiday in Japan. There is a traditional meal for it, which is called ‘osechi’. It’s assorted foods of beans, boiled vegetables, boiled fish, and steamed fish paste, boxed in layered containers. The kinds of an assortment are slightly different at each family according to the family tradition. My family’s traditional ‘osechi’ was absolutely terrible. The assortment consisted of only three kinds of food. Boiled carrots, boiled burdocks and black soybeans. That’s it. We even didn’t have to buy them except for black soybeans because they were grown in our family’s field. It was accompanied by miso soup that had sticky rice cake and big taro in it. Big taro was grown in our front yard and my family held a superstition that you would become a head of something by eating it in the New Year. Unfortunately, it’s huge and painfully tasteless. As a child, I always wondered how they could call them a New Year’s special feast since our daily meals were better. To conclude the ‘feast’, we drank special tea. A cup of Japanese tea with a pickled plum sunk in the bottom. As another superstition, my family believed that it would bring happiness, but it tasted horrible and made me unhappy right away. And then, what I thought couldn’t be any worse hit the new bottom. On one New Year’s Day, there was a new addition to our traditional meal. It was called ‘kuwai’ and looked like a chestnut with a sprout. My mother heard that eating it in New Year made you ‘sprout’ to the world. It became her new superstition and my father began to grow it in the front yard. It tasted utterly awful. If primitive people found it in the woods and tried it, they would certainly dismiss it as inedible. Although I had endured the terrible feast until I left home, I’m not a head of anything, nor don’t sprout to the world…