Then I became a performing taiko drummer. In Odaiko New England (ONE) we have a large repertoire, and therefore need to project many characters and emotions: joy, ferocity, laid-back cool, rock-god intensity. If you are shy, you know that none of these comes naturally to a shy person, especially one with stage fright. Slowly and painfully, I taught myself to pretend: to act joyous, ferocious, cool, intense. Gradually I discovered that “acting” joyous on stage brought out silly, happy childish parts of me I never knew existed. “Acting” joyous freed me to be openly joyous. In the same way, acting ferocious frees the predator in me. I glare at the audience: they are the herd, my natural prey, and when I leave the drum I am going to leap off the stage and hunt them down like a tigress. Some roles are harder than others. The rock-god persona of one of my favorite ONE songs, Kashmir (inspired by the Led Zeppelin piece), is perhaps the most difficult. As a middle-aged woman with bad knees, it is hard to visualize myself as a rock goddess. So I call on my long-suppressed inner rock heroine: eternally young, arrogant, and wicked. And out she comes – glamorous, challenging, triumphant. Am I entirely convincing? Probably not, but my role in the troupe is not to be a star. My job is to support my ensemble, to help us transmit together as a group the message we are rock gods to the audience, and make them leap to their feet screaming at the end of Kashmir. Which, happily, they often do.

There is more to taiko performing, of course: transitions, backstage traffic jams, onstage surprises, offstage distractions, outdoor weather crises, transportation and equipment mixups, missed cues, flying bachi, free-running dogs – all of the haps and mishaps that create the stories we tell over beer and pizza. We are a troupe of performers, with a shared history and a shared identity: we are Odaiko New England.

But I’m still not really an actor…am I?

ONE members gather to welcome Shane, Greg and the New Year

Pardon my sentimental blubbering. A few days ago in a shinnenkai celebration, with cheers, laughter and more than a few damp eyes, we welcomed two new members to Odaiko New England: Greg and Shane. It was with enormous pride in their efforts, accomplishments and promise that we bestowed on them in our welcome ceremony the rare and esteemed Purple T-Shirt of Membership. This was a huge step for us, because they are the first new folks to join since our Community Group was formed. Two years ago, in a leap of courage and faith, five ONE members invited in fifteen additional enthusiastic and dedicated taiko lovers, and the Community Group became a reality. Suddenly ONE quadrupled in size from an intimate group of five, to an intimate group of twenty. It was a new model for everyone.

This huge and sudden growth has been a challenge: logistically, emotionally, and professionally. How to provide equipment for so many people? How to make group decisions? Train and rehearse so many different skill levels? Distribute performance opportunities fairly? Together (and with the wise guidance of the Fabulous Five original ensemble members), we did it! Sixteen years after our founder Elaine Fong began banging on old tires, we are growing and flourishing. We finally have a real office! Paid staff! Costumes that fit (mostly)! For sure, our equipment could use some upgrading (I speak lovingly of drums such as Mr. Jingles, Harry the Hiccupping Hira, Helen the Holey, and Thumper the shime). But that, too, will surely come to pass.

The admission of our first “new” new members Shane and Greg has led us to think about who we are, what we do, and where we want to go. Some foregone conclusions: (1) we love taiko and want to share our passion; (2) we don’t just want to drum: we want to drum together; (3) we are a family: we share each others’ joys and sorrows, watch each others’ backs, nurture each other as we can, and rejoice in our “in-laws” (partners, families and pets). So welcome, Shane and Greg, to the joyous, passionate and diverse taiko family that is Odaiko New England.

Our newest members sport their purple t-shirts.

Sheilarae holds the Ji while Kenta Nakagome of KODO readies himself for a Miyake solo

It may have been the first time anyone has participated in a jam-session Miyake with Kodo while wearing an LBD (Little Black Dress). It was certainly the first time I observed such a thing. For sure, a Kodo drummer pounding out a wild, macho Miyake on one side of the drum, with a poised, elegant American woman (our own Sheilarae, looking like she just stepped out of a box at the opera) in a chignon and little black dress kneeling and composedly holding the ji on the other, is a unique sight. With taiko, truly, all things are possible. And what can one say about the opportunity to play for and with Kodo? I guess it’s like a garage rock band having a chance to jam with Sting.

After feeding Kodo in the luxurious atmosphere of our dojo basement, we ONE community members performed Mahora for them. Was that a bit arrogant? I’m not sure; it was more like a tribute. Some people were nervous:

Perform for Kodo? Omigod!

But I wasn’t worried. It’s not like we had a chance of impressing them anyway, and Mahora is a noisy, power piece that entails more enthusiasm and energy than finesse. But I have to say this: I have never drummed with more confidence, commitment or energy. Everyone felt it: not fear, but a white-hot excitement, snapping out energy like lightning strikes, and the drum-thunder ringing out after. Our Mahora went off like an explosion, a volcano, a fireworks display – all because of the cheerful , unassuming Kodo members sitting in front of us.

But that was the reception.

About the performance: I saw Kodo the last time they were in Boston, and I don’t remember being so completely blown away by the odaiko piece. When the gigantic cart carrying the Odaiko was rolled downstage it looked like the preparation for something ominous, a sacrificial rite – perhaps a human sacrifice? When the two odaiko players leapt onto the cart wearing nothing but white loincloths, they reinforced that image. But when they began to drum, the context changed, became orgiastic, a relentless pounding sexual physicality. As the duet rose to a climax, I thought of Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring. In the ballet that accompanies the music, a sacrificial victim ultimately dances herself to death. Watching the sweating, nearly naked odaiko player with his back to us, I began to wonder if he was going to do the same. When he completed his solo, jumped down to the stage and without a pause launched into a horrific Yatai Bayashi, I was sure of it. We could finally see his face, and it was extremely uncomfortable to watch. He was in agony: Taiko as Human Sacrifice.

That member didn’t come to the reception; we were told he was too exhausted. Anybody else would have probably have been dead. In any case, the next time I think I’m ready to collapse during an oroshi, or after Miyake, I’ll think of that incredible Odaiko performance effort, which will put my own puny difficulties in perspective.