It's been a LONG time, but I have a new promo video!! The last one was in 2000, so 8 years too late, I am proud of this one as it highlights one of the most exciting cities in the world, Manhattan, close to where I live. We had a great time shooting it with the team that came all the way from Japan, and as usual we had Takashi and Okustan on the beautification team. Several people came up asking about the song, a true lure of the Kyoto Jazz Massive production style. Check it out if you get a chance!

"This is amazing Monday!"

As much as I want to say they were commenting on my music, it was for something else; at a gathering at a friends' house, we had just finished feasting on raclette and I'd contributed a dessert, an experimental tiramisu: lady fingers soaked in ceremonial green tea (layer one) and local raspberry wine (layer two) as opposed to the traditional espresso, white chocolate infused with the marscapone cream, and served with a light dusting of the ceremonial green tea powder. I thought it was a great combination of tastes, and also represented my Japanese and Italian ancestry. We were a mix of Europeans and Americans, and everybody was familiar with the traditional Italian tiramisu to understand the twist I'd taken and surprised at the harmony of unexpected ingredients.

I can't take credit, though, for brainstorming this on my own. Many years ago, while dining at one of my favorite Manhattan restaurants, Cafe Bouley, I was treated to a white chocolate mousse with ceremonial green tea and realized what a perfect combination the white chocolate and green tea was. It also reminded me of the many interesting desserts one can find in Japan's "depachika," the basement level of major department stores where they offer eye popping assortment of foods in display cases -- heaven. While looking up a recipe for a white chocolate tiramisu (I was convinced this was already created by SOMEBODY, and sure enough, there it was in the Food Network site), they suggested serving it with fresh raspberries and I remembered a tasting I'd done recently at a local winery of raspberry dessert wine which I thought could work well. In another words, other people's ideas inspired me to come up with my own twist on this tiramisu and it worked!

It's always been my take on cooking (and eating) food, to combine flavors and create different dishes, from when I was in my late teens. Why not use shiitake instead of regular mushrooms? Why not substitute fresh fruit such as oranges instead of using tomatoes in a salad? Why not make pesto out of arugula, or flavor a ceviche with shiso (perilla) instead of cilantro? Today many top chefs worldwide are doing just that, recreating traditional dishes by substituting certain ingredients to create a whole new dish, a genre which used to be called "nouvelle" in the '80s and is recently renamed that despicable word in certain music cricles: fusion. With the globalization era in which the internet has shrunk our world into a laptop, information is easy to get, and ingredients unknown to many only a decade ago can be found in almost any urban grocery shop worldwide. Mix that with a little imagination and ingenuity and anyone can cook like Nobu. Well, it helps to have talent and a good palate. Me, I'm fueled by my desire to eat, hence I cook.

I take this same approach with music as well as with my general clothing style, with a similar understanding of what works and doesn't work for me. For example, with fashion, I know that a skirt in a certain length works against my height and over enhance my bowlegged silhouette, or a certain color can wash out my olive-yellow complexion and make me look a million years old. Wearing too ethnic clothing will make me look like I'm F.O.B. from Nepal, and tight white clothing shows every inch of flab I'd otherwise want to hide. A certain pink works great for me, but if it's the wrong pink, it can either look like I'm trying too hard to look young, or the paler shade will accuse me of being an Asian trying to camoulage herself into a W.A.S.P. society. And it goes on. It's a live and learn knowledge with a lot of trial and error as personal likes and dislikes that I'm sure many of us have gone through (or are still going through), but eventually you get the hang of it. Who cares about fashion if you look silly, highlight a flaw, or generally look like sh*t?

Same with music. The world of music was already pretty small when I was coming into my own and I never questioned if you had to be black or white or purple to have the right to sing or feel soul (Carol King already broke that barrier in my book), rock (Jimi Hendrix), jazz (look at my mother), reggae (to me, The Police who were doing a combination of ska, rock and pop were king), etc. So when I read a snide blog comment accusing me of musically trying to be something I'm not, I can't help but wonder what this person thinks I should be? Another also said he got the feeling I was a "geek" which I had to laugh at -- not because it's outlandish, but because it's actually sort of true! In reference to the "geek" comment, I have to insert that this is probably a little of the "otaku" culture that I think I might be slightly a part of where I'm just immersed in it and have little time or energy towards developing other parts of myself, and also I'm just a "nice" person (with fragments of bitchy-ness) -- I don't try to act cool or put up a front or an attitude. Why? It's just an exterior mask to me, an affectation that I'm too lazy to acquire to appear to be with the in crowd. I'd rather be nice, be humble (because I really feel that way, not pretending), and sincerely feel grateful towards the people around me for accepting me into their lives and hope that I can contribute in some positive way. All while doing what I aim for, whatever that might be.

But getting back to the comment of trying to be something that I'm not, I beg to question if this person really knows what I am, or what I'm not? My guess would have to be a big ol' fat NO. Heck, I'm still getting to know myself, so how can this person who is not a part of my life in any shape or form know what I think, how I feel, why I do what I do, let alone why I choose to make and sing the type of music I do. Is it that s/he thinks I should do Japanese infused music because I look primarily Asian? Or sing Italian opera as is my partial genetic roots? Or is it that my mixture of styles is confusing to the listener and make some think I'm just confused myself?

I can't help but think that there is a high amount of ignorance and stereotyping not only by this blogger, but many regardless of country or race, who still think jazz and soul should be sung by black Americans, who think classical is strictly for Europeans, that rock 'n roll should be for trailer park and rebellious whites, etc. Please, are we still in such an antiquated mind set? For that matter, what business do people other than Americans, namely cowboys and farmers, have in wearing blue jeans, especially those millionaires on NY's upper East side -- do they think they're fooling us? What's up with these kimono-sleeve dresses worn by non-Japanese, or sari inspired skirts worn by non-Indians? Who does Chef David Bouley think he is, borrowing Asian traditional spices and other ingredients to fancy up his food? I'm almost laughing as I write this because these notions are not only outdated but downright stupid.

I'll use my mother as a perfect example of someone who came out of a completely alien background compared to those who may seem more naturally destined to become a jazz musician, and why what she does is completely her own thing. She's Japanese, born and grown in Manchuria, China until 13 years of age, classically trained, then fell in love with jazz music as a teen while working at a dance hall in Japan to help support the family. Her love was so deep that she paved a name for herself in Japan as being quite the jazz pianist, and got discovered by none other than the great jazz pianist Oscar Peterson who helped scout her to attend Berklee, the first Japanese at the school, and record with Norman Granz. Over the years she developed her chops as a jazz pianist and composer, and it was in the '70s that she decided to infuse Japanese traditional music to create and tell her own perspective and thoughts of life. Maybe there were some who thought that was a stretch, but I know there were many who thought she created a completely unique perspective to jazz that is solely her own. Did I also mention that jazz, composing and band leading were and still is primarily male dominated? Certainly didn't stop her, and she is now considered a living national treasure in Japan, inducted with the Jazz Master Award, and other awards recognizing her amazing work over the decades.

In my case, I'm doing something a little more mixed and with lots of shades of gray. Whereas my mother fused two distinct styles of bebop jazz and traditional Japanese, I tend to take a more little-bit-of-this-and-a-little-bit-of-that approach, and while it's not done consciously, it's all a reflection of music I listened to and loved growing up as well as other styles and artists I became inspired by which resonated with me. I've already written a blog touching similarly on this subject entitled "Fusion" where I describe my various inspirations which took me on the musical path and philosophy I currently have, and it's really not the point of this blog to recount that.

I think the world has become less black and white and more about infinite shades which we as creators add to our palette, finding our own colors, harmonies and balance which best expresses our perspective and heart. I know I'm not black so I'm never going to pretend to be Stevie Wonder or Chaka Khan! I know I'm not Brazilian so I'm never going to pretend to be Flora Purim or Milton Nascimento! I know I'm not purely American so I'll never pretend to be Led Zeppelin! I'm not a Londoner, purely Japanese, African...I'm not a lot of things! What I AM though is a lover of music, a woman, a person who feels deeply, has compassion and sympathy, who loves to rock out sometimes or dig deep into hip hop, who is stimulated by jazz and great improvisation, who feels such beauty from classical and certain Brazilian chord structures, who is in awe of truths and dreams spoken by our poets, who feels the primeval pulse of chantings from African, American Indian or other tribal societies, who feels a certain recognition and interest in rhythms from across our vast but syncopated world...why must one be limited by the book cover we were assigned to at birth?

So I continue to find ingredients that I think work in harmony with others that I want to eat, hear, touch, see, wear, regardless of what preceded my time or is considered acceptable. The past is a map of where others have come from and should I want to revisit for reference, it helps and teaches me, but my future is yet unwritten and there's no right or wrong in my book when it comes to styles.

Recently I performed at the Jak Jazz Festival in Jakarta, Indonesia. It was my second year at the festival and as was the case the last time, they had a press conference with about 20-30 members of the Jakarta press in attendance. Most asked the typical questions, like, "How do you like Jakarta?" "What do you think of the Indonesian audience?" "Will you be doing any jam sessions with local musicians?", etc. But there were two people who had some questions that went a little deeper, which I personally enjoy -- it gives an opportunity to really let your individuality out, and also shows genuine interest from that person and a certain intelligence of the publications they represent.

One woman asked if I was going to be integrating any traditional Indonesian or Japanese instruments, to which I answered that I believe one must be careful not to borrow too many instrumentations and styles from other cultures that they aren't really familiar with for fear of misrepresenting or disrespecting that culture, and I personally disliked using Japanese traditional instruments in modern forms of music because it sounds tacky to me -- in short, no. Sasha was sitting next to me, and I could hear him mumbling his approval. The next question came from a man who then asked, "But you have made a lot of music that goes into the Brazilian territory." Touche.

I can't recall now what I answered, just that since then I have replayed that moment countless times, even having a one way rebuttal answer on one of my long drives on the Long Island Expressway. Hence my writing about it now here in this blog, an exorcist of sorts in case it starts plaguing me in the middle of night and I begin talking in my sleep. It's obviously bothered me, not because I am trying to justify what I have done musically over the years, but because I've thought about this very thing long and hard for a long time, many decades in fact.

"Many decades?" Sounds funny coming from a person whose professional musical career really only spans just over 15 years. But this question and theme actually touches on something deeper that is the very core of expression, which is my identity. For music and how I express it is the direct expression of how I perceive my identity. In fact, isn't that the case with all artists?

As many people know, my ancestry is half Japanese and half Italian, but really I'm more Japanese and American, I'd say equally both. While I grew up during most of my schooling years in the U.S., namely the suburbs of Los Angeles, I was born in Japan and lived there for many of my earlier years, and then work beckoned upon adulthood which led me to live in Tokyo for another 13 years. America is a new world, and especially Los Angeles with little culture and tradition, but I would say that I got a lot of guts, independence and a liberal mind from growing up there in the feminist era that I did. That's the American side -- "Don't Fuck With Me. PERIOD." The Japanese side of me is the part that needs to nourish the soul, looks for poetry in movement and philosophies to explain life -- "If You Fuck With Me, I Will Try And Figure Out Why And Forgive You." It was rough at times dealing with not only the usual identity crisis one goes through in their teenage years, but mine extended beyond that. I wasn't purely American. And I certainly wasn't purely Japanese. I also just wasn't...normal. How can you be with jazz musician parents?

After years of trying to fit in then hating myself for it, I just gave up and went with it. Musically I studied classical flute and was passionate about it until things just HAPPENED (too long a story for this blog) then floundered until I settled on the idea of becoming a singer and songwriter. Which was interesting because I sort of sucked in the beginning; I had good musical backbone though. I was especially attracted to creating my own style, and particularly interested in any musical underground movements. Going back to Japan for me was not only exercising the career chance given to me but also to go back to my birth place to understand a little more of that side of me. Enough of America. I felt that if I didn't understand the Japanese side of me, I would never really fully understand myself and go forward in life.

It was those years in Japan of searching for myself and what I wanted to do musically that I really developed myself in both areas. Going to a record shop in Tokyo with entire floors of import CDs and vinyls that boasted of selections from not only the U.S. but from every corner of the earth was an eye (and ear) opening experience. I went from looking for jazz tinged hip hop and New York underground dance 12 inches to tracks from London's underground, music from Africa and South America, reggae, Asia, etc. I slowly felt the walls melting and looked for and found a common denominator between these musics, that there was a common thread of expression, of love, of humanity. Styles, cultures, genres, generations -- it mattered less what they represented, and rather the spirit that they were expressing. It was the same when I traveled, within Japan or within the U.S., and elsewhere in the world. It wasn't about finding the differences between cultures and people, but rather trying to find the common ground. We all love, we all fear, we all want a good laugh and be happy with our lives...we were all the same. I was especially attracted to rhythm in all genres of musics I encountered.

Musically it took me some time to figure out exactly what I wanted, and sometimes one has to dive headlong into some things to figure it out. So I did my time in soul. I did my time in pseudo-jazz. I did my time in Brazilian and salsa. I did my time in reggae, in hip hop, in rock, in house, in drum 'n' bass...in many and all genres just to feel it, try it on for size, laugh at myself in the mirror it I looked completely silly, or marvel at a dimension of myself that I hadn't noticed before. And in so doing, I was able to digest the different forms, and what stuck stuck. It went through my intestines and I got nourishment out of what I needed, rejected what didn't sit right, and my musical style and persona began to form and is still forming to this day. I won't go into what attracted me to the various forms of music and what I've taken from it, such as Brazilian music, because that is a whole blog in itself.

I think it's important for a clash of styles and ideas to happen, to borrow one aspect of something completely foreign and fuse it into something else, the concept of thesis and antithesis to form the synthesis, a new form that then becomes the thesis, and the cycle continues. It's how all modern forms of music has developed over time, such as jazz, rock, soul, bossa nova, etc., and will no doubt continue to develop other forms as yet unseen and unheard. It's what excites me when I hear someone developing their own style that is obviously unique because they themselves are unique, as each of us are, and what we each hear and perceive is all different, and yet all oddly the same. Fusion is not just a genre, but is a concept that has been happening since the beginning of time.

At the same time and completely contradicting what I've just said, I also think it's important for traditional forms of music and cultural instruments, especially ones that have to do with spiritual ceremonies, etc., to not be abused and respected, to be kept intact. This is coming from a person who is in one sense a fusion of two cultures, but also understands the strength and necessity of culture. With globalization accelerated by the computer age where information from Butan is almost as readily available as that from New York, we are in danger of losing aspects of many deep traditional cultures that give foundations and unique identities to the lands and people from where they come from. Sadly I see this in many of the places I have visited, Japan not withstanding, and I dearly hope that the governments and curators of these traditions will see the treasures they have and work to keep it intact for future generations worldwide to experience and awe over.

The inner voice rebutting is quieted somewhat, and I hope I'll be a little more on my toes to be able to give a comprehensive answer the next time. But if not, maybe I should just print this out and give it to the next journalist that might ask me such a question!

I recently went to see my husband perform at Birdland with a new group legendary bassist Dave Holland had put together, a Sextet including Mulgrew Miller on piano, Eric Harland on drums, Robin Eubanks on trombone, and Antonio Hart on alto sax. At my table was a friend who, while appreciating various forms of music on quite a wide scale compared to the normal folk, was still seemingly new to jazz. In fact, he had tried to wrangle some of his friends to partake in the evening, but as he explained, jazz was a hard sell. We talked a little about why people weren't too into jazz, and he factored in the very valid issue of poor marketing effecting people's image of jazz. But I think "marketing" or lack of is a poor excuse, and even when it is used effectively, such as in the case of Wynton Marsalis, it can hinder the true essence of jazz. I will share with you something that is still under wraps, but for the sake of this point I am trying to make, I have been approached by a group of people who are attempting to put together a DVD record company of jazz music. Their vision is to make a company whose DVD images are unmistakably their brand, and the music to be something more digestible than what they call the more "academic" jazz. I had a meeting with them last week, and it was interesting to hear them talk about how jazz has a stale image, that there is no real modern jazz, etc. While I understand what they're saying, and it's true that many "jazz" artists have a tendency to regurgitate the past and do yet another version of "My Funny Valentine" or "Moon River," or the standard standards in be-bop, there are also the young crop of jazzers, some of who were on display that night at Birdland, exploring music in a new avenue, and while it's jazz, it's not jazz in the be-bop sense of what was going on in the 60s. Of course I didn't want to blow my deal with these people and say that to them, and I'm flattered that they want to include me in on this DVD project even though I don't really view my music as jazz. But that's another story. I think music of all forms has taken a beating by the lack of education, again a subject we touched upon that night at Birdland with my friend. I was lucky in that I was in the House of. Because of my parent's involvement in jazz and music overall, I took an interest and fortunately showed talent at an early age and decided at 11 to study classical music and flute, all with the idea of becoming a musician one day a perfectly real career choice. I was listening to Stravinsky by the age of 8 alongside the Beatles. I was studying Mozart and Debussey in my teens while listening to Steeley Dan, Stevie Wonder, Chick Corea and funk music. I was playing in an orchestra doing Mahler and Dvorjak by age 16 while dancing to and appreciating Michael Jackson, Diana Ross and Oingo Boingo. And there was the ever constant flow of original jazz music my parents were composing and playing at home. I'm not writing this to try and impress, but rather to impress upon the fact that I don't think there are kids in these age groups today who are exposed to such a variety of really deep music, at least not in the U.S. and perhaps some from other countries might find this to be true as well. The government and the educational system is definitely at fault here, and I hate to say it but parents as well. If it's not part of people's environment, how else are they going to develop an appreciation towards it? Music is definitely a language. The different "tongues" and slangs are the different styles, whether it's jazz or classical or whatever, but first there are the ABCs (the notes). From there you develop your language (the melodies and songs), learn to string together your sentences (the scales), then understand the meaning behind the words (the chords), and so forth. If the language is foreign to you, well, you're not going to want to communicate or understand. It's too hard a work, and most people are too lazy to want to learn, or just don't know where to start. Jazz is that original and beautiful art form where there is essentially a head, or the actual song which is the melody in a certain rhythmic meter (in 4, 6, 7, whatever) under certain chords in a certain format, then the musicians expand on the melody over the form of the song, meter and chords. When the musician is well versed, they can break the format but still stay in it. Which really wigs us out; it's a real ride. Unless the listener is educated enough in music, or used to hearing this type of music and understand what is going on or, again using the language metaphor, can understand the language, they're just not going to get it. It's going to go over their heads and it might as well be a person mumbling at them and BORING. Sorta like how the parents sound on the Peanuts cartoons. Like my son listening to the news. Although lately he's starting to catch certain stories: "Who's Bush?" Okay, that's again another story. And that basically sums up my theory of why people aren't into jazz, or other "sophisticated" forms of music. Jazz in a most rudimentary form can be considered a little stale, yes. I would have to agree with that. As one musician friend sarcastically commented while listening to the radio, "Great, I needed to hear yet another version of XX." But in its modern incarnation, it is beautiful, masterful, deep, spiritual, and you can see each musician weaving around in what they have trained and studied years and years to be able to get under their fingers; it is truly awesome and quite frankly COOL. It is idiosyncratic. It is intelligent. I personally don't think it's academic. Do jazz musicians look academic to you? Sorry it's not dummified for people to "get." It is truth. You don't see a lot of b.s.ing jazz musicians. They see society and people as it is, have refused to partake in the mainstream, and have sought the harder route because they know there is truth to be found in that road. And that is basically my theory of why people don't really get into jazz. It's easier to deal with b.s. than be challenged.

I know, you're probably thinking, "She's a singer and writing a blog about finding her voice?....um....okay..." But this is more about finding your style, your true "voice" to express what and who you are, to find the natural animal in you rather than what you want to be. Okay, the last part sounds strange coming from me, because God knows I've written enough songs about how you can dream and envision what you want to be, and with work and belief it'll manifest itself. And I do strongly believe that. But I am also an avid believer in expressing the natural you, rather than getting tainted by outside influences. There's always going to be someone or something that seems to have it going on that you admire and wish you could be like, maybe even emulate, and you might be successful in becoming the chameleon and taking those colors for yourself. But is it the real you? My mother is 75 years old, almost 60 years in the biz, and she says that in the beginning she strived to emulate her heroes, namely the legendary jazz pianist Bud Powell, but only found her true "voice" and style later on, I think she said in her 40s. I'm just now hitting 42 this year and I must admit, I've just begun to hit my stride in the last few years in terms of discovering my style, but it seems to keep changing and at times I'm a little disconnected to what I'm about, which is where I'm at now. I had the opportunity to sit down with legendary jazz bassist, Dave Holland, back in 1997 when he was in Japan performing at a festival, and he said such a great thing to me, perhaps as advice to a young musician such as myself, or maybe to explain the various musical directions he's explored. It was something to the nature of finding the thing that you're good at and are recognized for, and sticking to it. I questioned it at the time, thinking that it goes against the principle of trying new things and discovering new roads and possibilities for yourself, that you would be in danger of becoming stale and in a certain rut without the adventure of new directions. But I see now that he really meant that you should find your "voice," and that you focus in that direction, which will allow you to go farther along your path towards higher levels, rather than to spend your time trying different things that isn't necessarily what you're really about. I had a string of songs in the past that caused a buzz in the underground club world, mostly in the house circle, that a lot of people associate me with. It's funny, but I don't really consider myself a house artist. For me, the style of house, or any other style of music for that matter, is like the icing on the cake, but not the cake itself, if that makes any sense. It's like the make-up on the woman, or the clothes that she might be wearing, but it's not what she really looks like once you take all that off. Well, my music and my voice is the naked me, my real voice. What I'm trying to say is that I don't want to be defined by a genre or style or any of those labels, which is so limiting. I'd rather define myself by what my spirit is saying, my thoughts and passions, the truth, or the search of, that I ultimately strive for. And maybe that's what it's about. Maybe in this world where everyone feels compelled to label, and be labeled, to better define and understand something, including themselves, that it's limiting us from being who we really are. I'm trying to find my voice. I haven't lost it, it's there, but I seem to have lost sight of it a bit. Or maybe it will always be elusive to me, defying description, always changing as time and life changes all of us ever so subtly.