Taiko Drummers Yell, Twirl and Leap to a Different Beat

The slow patter of the small Japanese drums sounds like light rain falling.

Then, the handful of musicians pound on the large drums to imitate thunder, filling the West Covina gym with deep tones that shake display cases in the next room.

Growing faster and louder with each repetition, the storm brews until, abruptly, it ends as suddenly as it began.

The piece is called “Kaminari,” or thunder.

The players are members of Kishin Daiko, a group of 60 people who play drums together in what is part music, part dance--and as American as Japanese.

The musicians, who rehearse at the East San Gabriel Valley Japanese Community Center, range in age from 5 to 68 and come from as far as Hollywood and Orange County for Japanese group drumming, called taiko.

Some regard it as a way to make music while getting a good workout. Others welcome the exposure to Japanese culture.

“It gets into me--I can feel it,” said an earnest Christina Rubalcava, 15. “It’s like I’m one with the drum.”

The group’s artistic director, Tom Kurai adds: “It’s making noise.”

But this type of drumming calls for more than forceful banging. In addition to memorizing the notes, rhythm and tempo of songs, players have to remember to leap up in the air at the end of certain phrases or crouch low during other parts.

In one number, four players twirl and weave around one another as they play on both heads of three drums. Grinning at one another, they finish slightly out of breath.

Watching, you might assume taiko is a Japanese tradition begun centuries ago.

You’d be only partly right.

Traditionally, taiko drums were a part of music ensembles that accompanied dance and Shinto and Buddhist religious ceremonies.

But it wasn’t until the 1950s that group drumming started catching on in Japan and then America.

In 1981, second-generation Japanese Americans--including those who had traveled to Japan and returned to the United States--formed the Kishin Daiko group, based in West Covina.

“Kishin” means to return to the heart, or go back to one’s roots, Kurai explained.

Today, more than 60 groups play in America and Canada. The dozen groups in California include college clubs at UCLA, UC Irvine and Cal State Northridge.

One main Japanese element of modern taiko is using the voice to push out energy.

Called kakegoe, this technique is similar to kiai in martial arts. Drummers randomly yell when the spirit moves them (“Hup!” and “Tsa!” are the approximate sounds), creating another layer of drama.

“We use our ki, our center, where energy comes from,” Kurai said. “It releases our spirit.”

Eleven-year-old Steven Mori smiled impishly in agreement.

“I get rid of all my stress from my little brother,” he said.

Students also learn a little Japanese. They count in Japanese for warmup stretches. (“We use our whole body when we play,” Kurai notes.) They bow at the beginning and the end of rehearsals, cheering in unison.

Jean Koizumi of Walnut said she likes the cultural exposure her children get.

“They’re fourth generation. They need some type of cultural background,” she said. “It’s like losing an art.”

Most of the members are of Japanese ancestry; the rest are a sprinkling of other races. Teenager Rubalcava, part Mexican and part Native American, said she joined “to learn about people’s cultures other than my own.” Her inspiration: her grandparents, who were already in the group.

*

As new works borrow from Western music, taiko is evolving as a Japanese American art form.

“We’re making it our own thing,” said Kurai, a third-generation Japanese American. “Most of us are not from Japan. We take whatever we listen to and incorporate them into pieces. It’s a combination of traditional and contemporary rhythms.”

The drums themselves are made in America. It would cost up to $5,000 to buy one 18-inch Japanese drum, made out of a hollowed tree trunk. Kishin Daiko can produce its own for about $400.

Several members work on the weekends, gluing slats from oak wine barrels to create one piece, reinforcing the inside and stretching wet skin over the ends.

The three-month process offers musicians another opportunity to bond, said Walter Clarke, 24, of Pasadena, who got hooked on taiko after hearing a professional group perform.

“It’s like a real family. I see them more often than I see mine,” he said.

‘It gets into me--I can feel it. It’s like I’m one with the drum.’