Goma da Didgeridoo

photo courtesy of daniel bowman simon

Sunday night I went to see Goma da Didgeridoo play a small club called Club Daughter in downtown Nagoya with my friend Miki.

I had seen Goma play solo/acoustic twice before, but this time he was augmented by a djambe, a full drum kit, and some dj computer effects, so it was incomparable.

The club was very small, low ceilings, narrow, no raised stage for the band, giant speaker stacks in all four corners jutting out obscuring walkways, and the place was absolutely overflowing with the most dreadlocks I've ever seen in Japan.

I'm talkin' loooong locks. One lanky, Indian looking guy, I swear to God, had locks down below his knees. It's not the kind of thing you see everyday living in timid Japan. Where these people come from and where they go is a mystery to me, but they come out of the woodwork for raves and concerts. The whole scene was incommodious.

Because there was no backstage area, the band had to navigate, equipment in hand, through the abominable crowd. Originating from the far back of the narrow club, they parted people like an entrance to a prizefight. A full entourage with Goma, a small pocket-sized Japanese guy with an enormous afro, bringing up the rear.

Once the jungle rhythm of the drums started, and Goma began blowing his didge, the entire atmosphere of the club altered. Everyone became transfixed on only the music because it was impossible to see the musicians.

The music was completely blustering and earth shaking. The reverberating didgeridoo was pumped at full volume through all four speaker stacks creating a three dimensional sound sphere that sent minds in distorted directions, while the bottomless bass of the drums and djambe shook the walls of the club and the riffraff's asses.

The band played for just under an hour, which was plenty. Heat and humidity set in after the first fifteen minutes turning the place into an honest to god concrete jungle.

My friend Miki and I went outside to escape the mugginess. With our minds and bodies rattled to the core, we decided it was time to go home. Back to Heiwa-cho for some peace and quiet.