Shugo Tokumaru
The rising indie rocker takes it one clickety-clack at a time
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| Courtesy of Shugo Tokumaru |
There are solo artists and there are solo artists.
On the one hand, you have divas surrounded by their musical, lyrical
and managerial hives. On the other, you’ve got Shugo Tokumaru. Since 2004, the 27-year-old guitarist has released three full-length albums of idiosyncratic folk-pop, penning every word and recording almost every pluck, strum, whistle and jangle himself.
Being prolific may be easier when you sleep in your studio. As a child, Tokumaru liked to collect noisemakers, and today little has changed:
the bedroom where he records his albums is lined with around 100 instruments, from piano and violin to handsaw and sitar. The toys are still around, too, ready to lend their charming cacophony. The results have been variously called “psychedelic,” “folktronic” and “chamber pop,” earning their maker praise for his imagination and talent.
“I don’t have special plans to do something huge. I’m not trying to become famous or anything like that,” Tokumaru offers while sitting in a quiet coffee shop in Kyoto. “Basically, I just really like small sensations. If I really like this sound”—and here strikes his teacup with a spoon—“I want to compile that sound little by little and make music. If that turns into something larger, I’m happy with that as well.”
This pretty much sums up his latest effort, Exit. Playful collages of sound serve as backdrops to Tokumaru’s attenuate vocals on “Hidemari” and his dexterous picking on the spirited opener “Parachute.” Some tracks sound more like manic jam sessions on the island of misfit toys, while the rich polyphony of “LaLa Radio” suggests he had North American musical cousins Wilco over to play. Tokumaru’s pop reaches hodgepodge heights on “Green Rain,” when guitar and melodica are joined by a whimsical percussion section including a wine glass, woodblocks, a toy drum and an ashtray.
“Anyway, I like the guitar the best,” he says. “I started to play when
I was around 15. I pretty much just played punk then. The Pistols, the Clash, just basic stuff. It was around the same time that Nirvana was popular,
so I played things like that… me and everybody,” he jokes.
Tokumaru clearly moved on to develop his own style, and the sounds he produces from his small travel guitar can be surprising. At a show in Osaka the night before, the small instrument accentuated his slight frame as he sat barefoot on a stool and fidgeted with the microphone. He bantered with the audience, started to say something, sputtered and changed the topic completely, and then launched confidently into a complicated arpeggio.
In between songs, he beckoned the audience closer.
“At a live show, being as close as I can to people makes it easier to get in touch with them,” Tokumaru says, and goes on to describe how he tries to maintain this rapport with audiences abroad. “In France, I would bring up the dictionary and just start reading it aloud,” he says with a laugh. This raises the question of how he communicated with David Fenech, the French guitarist who invited him to collaborate on a “sonic pillow fight.”
It seems they got by in English well enough to trade tracks and eccentricities. “David’s strange. I really love strange people.”
Being a bit quirky himself and accustomed to near total control on his records doesn’t seem to hinder Tokumaru’s compatibility with other musicians. “Basically, it’s more fun to play with everyone,” he says of the Magic Band, instrumentalists “scalped” from other groups who sometimes back him at shows. As for going into the studio with session musicians, “It’s sometimes relaxed and sometimes stressful. I want both of those atmospheres. You can do things that you never even really thought you wanted to.”
If his collaborations result in unexpected momentum, so has his solo career. “I never thought to go and become a solo artist; I thought I’d just put out a CD and then be done. I want to do other things, like form a rock band,” he admits. In fact, Tokumaru was playing in a rock band, The Gellers, which decided to go on hiatus shortly after the release of their first album in late 2007. It’s hard to begrudge them the time off. “The members of The Gellers have been friends from since we were really just kids, around 3 or 4 years old. And all of us have only been in this band. So everyone wants to do other things, and we don’t feel like playing together right now,” he says. “But it’s been fun, because we’re just friends hanging out.”
For now at least, the eclectic artist will continue down his solo road toward ever-broadening horizons, touring Europe and the US to support Exit’s summer release there. Meanwhile, Tokumaru has already started recording material for a fourth album. What new ingredients might he toss into his next musical stew?
“I’m really interested in old Japanese instruments, but they’re hard to get. I’d really like to try playing gagaku [ Japanese classical court music] sometime.” He also mentions the hichiriki, an oboe-like wind instrument with a singularly eerie tone, and the sho, made of small bamboo pipes and traditionally said to imitate the cry of a phoenix. “I’d like to go to Africa,” he muses when asked where he’d like to play. “I wonder how they would react to my music there.” It seems someone who takes his lyrics from dreams and music from cutlery would at least make them smile.
Unit, Mar 19 and April 6. See concert listings (popular) for details. Exit is available on P-Vine/Blues Interactions.
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