Big in Japan: A night out at Tokyo’s jazz clubs

by Matthew Firestone on

While first timers on the Tokyo night scene can’t seem to get enough of Roppongi and Shibuya, at some point the binge drinking and skirt-chasing has to stop. So, if you’re looking for a slightly more sophisticated night out on the town, here’s a quick introduction to Tokyo’s blossoming jazz scene…

Jazz is an American musical art form that originated in the early 20th century in the southern United States. A confluence of African and European music traditions, jazz erupted on the scene, launching successive generations of iconic performers from Louis Armstrong to Wynton Marsalis.

Although you may be surprised to hear this, jazz in Japan actually has a long history dating back to the 1920s. While American soldiers where occupying the nearby Philippines, jazz performers started touring the dance halls of Japan, particularly in Osaka, Yokohama, and Kobe. However, jazz was subsequently banned in Japan during World War II due to its overwhelming “Americanness,” though it had strong resurgence during the post-war years.

Given this lengthy history, it’s no wonder that jazz continues to thrive in Tokyo’s night spots. While there is no shortage of underground clubs and small bars where you can hear live music, today’s column is about the big hitters on the Tokyo jazz scene, namely the Cotton Club and the Blue Note.

Perhaps the most famous jazz club in the history of the movement, the Cotton Club in New York City’s Harlem operated during Prohibition, and featured some of the greatest American entertainers of the era including Duke Ellington, Count Basie, Ella Fitzgerald, Louis Armstrong, Billie Holiday and many more.

Since 2005, Tokyo’s installment of this American classic has been attracting some of the finest domestic and international jazz sensations. The ballroom at the Cotton Club is also a nostalgic throwback to the original Harlem theatre, though the expansive dining menu featuring such items as ‘Braised Abalone and Cabbage in Yuzu Flavor’ is decidedly Japanese. With that said, you can always get a highball of fine Kentucky bourbon if you suddenly feel nostalgic for a bit of Americana.

While not as historically significant as the Cotton Club, the Blue Note in NYC’s Greenwich Village first opened in 1981, and is today regarded as one of top jazz venues in the world. The Blue Note has also been site of several live recordings, including The Legendary Oscar Peterson Trio Live at the Blue Note, Arturo Sandoval’s Live at the Blue Note and Jose Feliciano – Live at the Blue Note.

Tokyo’s highly-acclaimed installment of the Blue Note opened to rave revues in 1988, and continues to attract some of the world’s most famous jazz performers. The auditorium itself is an Art Deco-influenced minimalist space of richly hued woods and pale blue hues, while the menu features an eclectic assortment of Japanese and European classics from foie-gras terrine to bamboo shoot salad. Of course, jazz is music is best appreciated over a martini glass filled to the brim with a potent brew.

Both the Cotton Club and the Blue Note certainly aren’t cheap nights out, though they offer a nice change of scene from the Tokyo club circuit. Besides, we all need to grow up sooner or later!

The Cotton Club is located near the South Marunouchi exit of Tokyo station. For more information, check out their website at www.cottonclubjapan.co.jp or contact them at +81-3-3215-1555.

The Blue Note is located near the B3 exit of Omotesandou Station. For more information, check out their website at www.bluenote.co.jp or contact them at +81-3-5485-0088.

United Airlines’ 1994 misstep multiplied

by Jamie Rhein on

The less than stellar reputation of United Airlines doesn’t surprise me. (see article) I decided back in 1994 the airlines wasn’t for me. As missteps go, it wasn’t major, but enough to lose two customers that I like to think have snowballed into the airline’s woes of today. Generally, I’m not spiteful, but If the service back then is any indication of what has transpired since, I’m sympathetic to anyone who has flown United.

My story started with the 12 p.m. flight from Los Angeles to Singapore via Tokyo. I was in a buoyant mood at LAX. I had on a new outfit and we had just finished a wonderful three days with friends in who live in Santa Monica, West Hollywood and Orange. We were heading back to Singapore for our second year as teachers after a summer of travel and regrouping. We were well-rested and fit.

The warm fuzzy feeling began to wane over the Pacific as soon as the pilot announced an engine had failed and we were heading to Alaska, but soon after changed this to San Francisco. I had just finished lunch and the movie had started. Alaska sounded intriguing. San Francisco–not so much. Besides, my mother would soon be getting on a plane in New York on a flight through Frankfurt, Germany to Singapore.

After we stood in line for six hours, getting re-booked on a flight through Hong Kong for the next day, it was clear to me that my mother would be arriving in Singapore before us. Originally, we were to arrive 12 hours before her. Making the best of a bad situation, I phoned a good friend of mine who lived in Livermore close to San Francisco. He was thrilled with the idea of meeting for breakfast.

The bad situation got worse when one of United’s personnel stood up on the ticket counter, waving a toothpaste/toothbrush kit, shouting to the 30 of us left waiting for our hotel vouchers. “There aren’t any hotels left,” he said. “If you want us to put you up, you have to fly back to L.A.”

Say, what? It was 9 p.m. My stomach was rumbling; the food from lunch long gone. “But you have to hurry,” he shouted over the din of protest, pointing us to the direction of the gate where a plane was waiting. The two Polish women who had somehow become separated from their tour group heading for China after the Tokyo transfer, recognized sympathy in our faces and decided we were the ones who knew something. Their English wasn’t the best, so my husband had to explain to them that we weren’t going to Tokyo at this moment, but to LA. The rag-tag group of us clutched our toothbrush kits as we found seats on the last United flight back to L.A.. So far, the kits were our only compensation.

The flight back to L.A. was accompanied by wine–lots of it. The flight attendants walked the aisles pouring from regular sized bottles. The stewardess pressed the remainder of a bottle into my hand before I got off the plane, patted me on the back, and said, “Good luck.”

By that time, my mother was halfway to Frankfurt. The sour woman at United customer service told me that there was no way they could let my mother know at the airport in Singapore where we were. “Great.” I pictured my mom in a country where she hadn’t been before, wondering where we were and unsure of how to find us. If she followed the directions to our apartment, I fretted that she might not find the key where we left it or know how to turn on the air conditioner. Singapore in August is BLAZING hot. There she would be in our living room dripping sweat with no food in the refrigerator wondering when we might show up. These were the days before cell phones.

Back at LAX, we looked for an airport shuttle to take us to the hotel, arriving there 15 minutes before room service ended. The restaurant was already closed. With the $5 phone card, the airline gave us, I started making calls to Singapore to find someone to meet my mom. The assistant principal was home and was more than happy to offer his help. Barely able to down soggy French fries, and a hamburger, I took off my new outfit so it might look halfway fresh in the morning. Our suitcases were who knows where.

The next day, there we were back at the LAX airport for the 12 p.m. flight. Could we get bumped to First Class after all we went through, we wondered? No! Any travel vouchers? No! Eventually, there we were once again flying over the Pacific eating the exact same food we ate the day before–same menu. The movie was also the same. Since I was wearing the same clothes, it felt like the same day, although this time we did make it all the way to Tokyo where we said goodbye to our Polish women friends who didn’t have a clue about when or how they would meet up with the rest of their travel group to China. No one at United was helping them out.

There was my mother and the assistant principal waiting for us at the other side of customs in Singapore.

What was United’s response to the letter I wrote as a complaint? We were each given a $200 voucher, good for any domestic full-fare price over the next year. These were totally not usable given that we were living in Singapore at the time.

The result of the fiasco has meant I haven’t flown United since. Where the airline made its first mistake was not helping me contact my mother–particularly since those of us who flew back to L.A. were not enjoying a hotel in San Francisco with the other passengers and dinner at a reasonable hour. It was the least they could have done. Since that didn’t happen, something else needed to have occurred to sooth our nerves. I can’t imagine what the decision makers were thinking when they sent us back to L.A. and didn’t bump us to First Class at least on the LA to Tokyo leg, even though there was room. These were two easy solutions that would have kept me coming back. Instead, my alliance switched to Northwest and I’ve never looked back.

The photo by Alan Light is a United Airlines flight in 1987. Things sure have changed.

Eating your way through Japan – a photo gallery

by Jeremy Kressmann on

The phrase “Japanese food” has a fairly standard meaning in the United States, conjuring images of sushi, instant noodles, seafood and teriyaki chicken. But as I discovered during my recent trip to Japan, the cuisine is far more diverse, delicious and surprising than I could have ever imagined.

Over the course of his trip, this intrepid Gadling blogger left no culinary stone unturned and no meal uneaten. Not only did I taste some of the freshest sushi and most savory ramen, I also ate some of the tastiest French creme puffs and the most tender Italian spaghetti. Let’s also not forget the many slimy, tentacled, raw and downright horrific things I ate too, which I’ve included as well for your viewing pleasure.

A special thanks to Gadling blogger Matthew Firestone for serving as my Japanese translator and food guide for this post. Don’t let him in front of a menu after he’s had a few cocktails!

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Have some sake with your friend Super Mario

by Jeremy Kressmann on

The Gadling crew has been spending a lot of hours in Japan recently. And as I discovered on my recent trip to Tokyo, the Japanese are completely obsessed with video games. The country that is home to Nintendo offers all manner of ways to get your gaming fix. In Tokyo’s Akihabara neighborhood, I discovered a store that sold nothing but vintage video game consoles, where systems like the Sega Game Gear to Neo Geo were available for purchase. Meanwhile, the gaudy neon-lit streets near Tokyo’s Shinjuku Station are lined with huge multi-story arcades, offering everything from head-to-head Tekken gaming stations to a video game where you can be a DJ with turntables.

This fanaticism for all things video game also extends to Japan’s nightlife scene, which is how I stumbled upon Muteki Mario. Located in Tokyo’s Shinjuku neighborhood, Muteki Mario is small bar based around the theme of Nintendo’s most famous video game character, Super Mario. My friends and I went head-to-head on the bar’s Mario Kart Wii game, complete with wireless steering wheels, while imbibing a few of my new favorite cocktail, single-serving glass jars of sake (Japanese rice wine). The bar’s theme even extends to the decor, which includes all manner of Mario and Luigi figurines, power-up mushrooms and star pillows that play the game’s invincible music when you squeeze them.

Part of the fun is trying to find the place…the website isn’t particularly helpful unless you speak Japanese, but I will say that it’s in the neighborhood just northeast of Shinjuku Station. Check the rather plain website and see if your hotel concierge can assist. Whether you’re a video game fanatic or just a casual Mario fan, I promise a hilariously fun night out.

Five myths about traveling in Tokyo

by Grant Martin on

I’ve been wandering around Tokyo for the last week or so and its been an eye opening experience. The culture is rich, the city endless and terrifying and gray and intense. Every day I’m astonished by the differences between our societies and the way that the Japanese operate, horrified by the varieties of food that we eat and warmed by the hospitality around me.

It is an experience far from what I had predicted, I am pleased to say. Back in New York we had broad, naive expectations formed by our guidebook scouring, stories from friends and films we had seen at the theater. They’re beliefs held by many Americans, I feel, and I thought that sharing my experiences would help clear some of these ideas up. Take a look at the biggest five myths I’ve found about traveling in Tokyo:

  • You won’t be a tall monster in Tokyo. While the national height average is a little lower in Japan, tall people do exist here and are not uncommon. Unless you get on a particularly short subway car, you won’t be able to see end-to-end with your friends. Similarly, your feet shouldn’t hang off the bed by 6″ when you check into a hotel. Three out of three of my mattresses so far have been fine for me and I’m pretty tall.
  • Electronics aren’t crazy awesome and cheap. While Electric City does have a ton of electronics with a remarkable variety, much of it is the same as US equipment and the price is also on par. I was looking at an IBM x40 Thinkpad for about 250$ this week, which you can get on Ebay for about 270$. Factor in the Japanese keyboard and having to carry it all of the way back to the States, and it isn’t really worth it.
  • People won’t stop to ask for your pictures. I’ve been with two tall people (over 6’4″), a nerdy African-American lawyer and a blond girl from Long Island, and have yet to be stopped for a picture. Some schoolchildren did ask for a photo at a temple in Osaka, but it was part of their homework assignment.
  • Bowing is nice and polite, but not necessary. Japanese understand that you’re visiting and don’t necessarily subscribe to their culture so don’t expect you to bow at every transaction and conversation. This especially holds true for small things like asking for directions or buying street food.
  • You can get around with English. Subway and rail stations all have English directions so you can navigate without a guide or translator.
  • Matthew Firestone is not the genial Lonely Planet and Gadling writer that you think he is. He is a dangerous, dangerous drunk that will feed you cow intestines and steal your children.

As in any metropolis, culture steps away from the traditional, outlying areas and shifts towards a central, efficient system. Most Tokyo residents wear business suits around town, work hard and party hard into the early hours of the morning. Visit with an open mind and a warm heat and you’ll find it among the most amazing cities in the planet.