An Ozomatli Day: Am I doing enough? III

My dad used to say I was "burning the candle at both ends" whenever I had a few things going on at one time. He didn't think it was a good idea but to me it was simply that I could do a number of things at one time and thought it a shame to not do any one of them. I was asked recently, after having been observed teaching a class, if I had ever considered acting as a profession. "Sure", I answered, "I did that from the ages of 13 to 20 in a semi-professional community theatre troupe", along with being a student, Boy Scout, newspaper editor, video game arcade owner, sign painter, son and boyfriend. And for all of that, I ended up in the advertising business - but there was never one thing that was more important than another - without them all, I would never have experienced the full effect of actually having done them, as opposed to just studying them. And sometimes all of whatever it is I happen to be doing at any one point in my life shows up in just one day. Here's just another one of those days.

Another one-day diary:

7:00 am
Contrary to my last "am I doing enough post", I popped up like a piece of toast today and jumped onto a full plate of life.
8:05 am
By 8 I'm through two cups of the country's most famous and savory beverage, Bloomberg, and the olde shit, shower and shave. Almost ready to rock.
9:15 am
A bit more Bloomberg -only because I have fallen madly in love with Betty Liu, but fear she's been taken already, judging from the size of the rock she was sporting in the Warren Buffet interviews - and I'll be ready. Still under 30 with a Pulitzer nomination to her credit she is not so much a rising star, but a star who has already risen, and done it in record time. Certainly worth my time every morning. They could give that girl the nutrition panel off a bag of dog food to read and it would still be worth my TV time. And I'll eat the dog food too, if she commands me to whilst wearing calf-high black stiletto boots.
10:00 am
It's off to the bus station. Today I'm heading northeast to a part of town I know, Anh Phu, but have never been to on the bus, so figuring out which bus to take will be job #1. Job #2 will be getting on the damn thing and job #3 will be figuring out just exactly which stop, on a long crowded expressway, to get off at. A wrong decision could cost me miles, many minutes and any number of limbs. Yes, in Vietnam there are bus stops on the expressway. Right on the expressway.
10:15 am
This kind of travel requires keen eyes and as we all might be familiar with, the sharpening of one sense once others have been been lost - what happens here, or in any other country where one doesn't speak the language, is that your visual senses grow to fill the void of the listening and speaking ones. On a Vietnamese bus, that means sitting by a window, so you can see what's going on, because the bus driver never announces anything over the PA, if they even have a PA. Today, I'm looking for a big-box department store - similar to a Sam's or a Costco, called METRO. That's where I get off the bus. The man at the station who had limited English, but was extremely helpful, had never heard of the place but got me on the #56. The rest would be up to me.
10:45 am
Ever play Frogger? Once off this bus it's free, the only catch being that you are the frog and the cars, trucks and a few million motorbikes are real. I need to cross an 8 lane highway to find the smaller surface road that would lead to my two afternoon destinations.
11:10 am
The Australian International School (AIS) had an ad recently promoting their summer Journalism course and I thought I would drop by and submit my CV. The address was listed as a 4 letter acronym "compound" having nothing to do with Australia, International, or schools whatsoever so henceforth, none of the locals knew where the hell I wanted to go - even though I had a copy of the ad with the address clearly printed at the bottom - but as things go in the orient, nobody ever wants to tell you that they don't know something, so my motorbike driver assured me he understood the direction in which we were going and then proceeded to get us lost. Once we finally did find the place, - that wasn't really all that difficult - the driver whined incessantly about the final fee, looking all Paul McCartney-puppy-dog and such, and not considering at all that he had been the person to have gone off half-cocked and off-compass. We settled on my original offer.
11:30 am
AIS is a tiny place, but the compound, as it's called, is a nicely manicured land of peaceful lanes dropped down seemingly by aliens to be the home for, well then, aliens - foreigners of many a stripe. Once in the school I am showed to the office and meet a cordial lady who turns out to be of course, the office manager. We talk about the journalism program and I am informed that the school, at least as much as this manager knows, has nothing to do with the program itself. I am told that curriculum and promotion are being handled by a local magazine and that I should talk with them - so for the morning, a dead end so to speak.
12:05 pm
I'm hungry. Time for lunch. The smell of grilled meats in Vietnam makes it actually hard to walk around the streets without dropping in for a bite - everywhere - every few feet. I select a joint that's packed - that being the mark of decent eats - and park my carcass. The woman behind the food selection immediately points to a pork chop and sets up the requisite side dishes along with a cold cha da (iced tea). The entire staff chuckles at my request for more diced chillies and loves watching me mix them into my rice and chops. It's tasty.
1:00 pm
One o'clock rolls around and it's time to pack my kit and head off to Mad's photo studio. Mads Monsen is an absolutely wonderful fashion photographer and somehow I've gotten him off his stock and trade and into creating an image for a public service campaign that I'm not sure either one of us knew how difficult would be to create, but in our first meeting, when I was drawing the idea out for the first time, Mads jumped all over it and had a sketch out before me that absolutely matched mine - so we had a meeting of the minds and have been following that muse for the last few months.
1:15 pm
Arriving at the studio I am greeted by the barking dog and a young female staff who informs me that Mads has just left. The place is empty and whilst we have worked together in the space before, don't feel exactly comfortable going back into the workspace and getting on a computer that is not mine. Our job today is to do layouts with rough images married to copy and typography but without the owner of the place, it seems I just need to sit and wait.
1:30 pm
Instead, I take a nap on the sofa in the lobby.
2:30 am
I awake to an image of an alarm clock chiming 5 o'clock. Fuck! I have to be at another appointment at 5:45 and I am nowhere near the other location! Fuck again.
2:45 pm
Luckily it's only 2:45 in real life, but still no Mads. The studio door is now open and I do see a Macintosh on and functioning, so it's time to work. I get started and in another 15 minutes the missing man arrives and we talk about what a looney day it's been for the both of us so far. But my time is running out. I need to leave by 4:30 and get back to town to step in and cover for someone who can't do some work tonight. In the next hour and a half I manage to get one half-assed layout done, and although it's pretty shabby in terms of proper kerning and general balance, it's the first time Mads and I have seen our idea at least 90% close to completion and we both feel good to have jumped the precipice between concept and reality - to be continued another day.
4:30 pm
A motorbike ride back to town because Mads needs to pick up his son at school, we blaze through traffic that jams on the way out of town but sails fairly smoothly on the way into the evening rush hour. Earlier in the week Mads and I had made plans to attend an Ozomatli concert, sponsored by the US consulate but both of our schedules got attacked by paying work and I made plans to get to the show after 9 when my gig finished. We part on the street, once back in the city proper and agree to meet up later at the show.
5:45 pm
I show up for my teaching gig and whiz through three hours thinking about the show. A quick bike trip would get me there.
9:00 pm
Ask me how many rock shows I've seen in my three and a half years in Saigon and I'll give you a big fat "O", which now stands for Ozomatli. My Chemical Romance was here last year but that oddly escaped my radar and was reportedly prohibitively expensive. The Ozomatli show is a free show put on by - who in our government would have ever thunk up this one? the US State Department! Actually inspired - and certainly not a Condi Rice initiative. In all my years in Korea, 10 to be exact, I never saw the US bring in anyone except soldiers and as cultural experiences go, I can tell you, the Koreans have seen quite enough of that. Tens of thousands of drunk, crew cut, American high school graduates let loose on the streets of any foreign country has got to be a public relations masterstroke. But this show promised to be a complete turn of yet another American page. A more than welcome one, here where the apocalypse was once now.
9:15 pm
The Lanh Anh club is a proper in-city country club that anyone can access that includes 12 tennis courts, a full modern gym, outdoor pool, Czech microbrewery and a covered outdoor concert facility seating, I would guess, around 2500. It's a wonderful place. Truly.
9:20 pm
Handing the man my free ticket, I can feel the building moving. No shit. And once inside the entire place, packed, is on their feet - jumpin'. Really. Tejano-rock-rap is the order of the day and as an Ozomatli member explains on the band's website, their style is like pulling up to any street corner on Sunset Blvd. in L.A. and having the windows rolled down on every car to stir a multicultural musical stew that would be unimaginable in any other city outside of Los Angeles. And the Vietnamese are eating it up.
9:30 pm
The members of the band met through their affiliation with the Peace and Justice Center of Los Angeles, and all 8 of them are jumping all about the stage in their signature style, mixing rap, a Latin horn section and a rock and roll groove - not a radio hit in the mix but no one seems to care as they pound out their mildly political message of tolerance, social justice and loud music justice. It works. I've seen a number of Vietnamese shows at this and other venues and I can tell you - nobody jumps around. Not even for their own pop stars. This band played Myanmar (Burma) just a few days before and how many bands do you know who can say that? "I rocked Rangoon!" I don't think so. Heading for the end of the show the band members, one by one, descended the stairs from the stage and played in the crowd. Two very serious security guys were following the sax player until they realized it was just impossible to "body guard" the guy and they gave up. The music was fun, upbeat, danceable and groovable but where they excelled - and you never get this from local performers - was in showmanship. That and the fact that they were really singing and playing instruments which is all but unheard of at most Asian concerts. A huge hit for sure.
10:15 pm
No encores on this show but who needed them? These guys played their hearts out and the crowd saw to it that they were rewarded for their efforts on every song. After the show I found the backstage door and had a chat with one of the guitarists. I gave him a copy of this blog address and promised a review - little did I know at the beginning of my day, that it would turn out to be a review of my whole day and not just the band.
10:30 pm
Alas, it seemed that Mads had never made it to the show. He had had quite a long day as well. I wandered over to the Czech microbrewery and found plenty of friends there though, Interestingly enough I met a woman who had seen me at the Australian School in the morning - another small world experience in what is turning out for me, to be a very large world.
12:00 am
Arriving home at midnight, I make myself a salad, have a glass of milk and chill. "Am I doing enough?", I ask myself. I've found that to be a virtually impossible question to answer in that simply doing a lot of things is no guarantee of any sort of success. One must do something extremely well - and on this particular day I can say I certainly did that - because I lived my life, at least what God had given me that day, to the best of my ability, and it made me happy.

I should want for nothing more.

For more in the "Am I doing enough?" series, check below:
II Blimps & bullshit: Am I doing enough? II
I "I've spent many years making up for not being a genius": Am I doing enough?

June 22nd: Happy Birthday Todd Rundgren!

Yup. It's confirmed. By the end of this post I will have proved for all time that I am a complete and unadulterated geek. And if that's not enough, I'm an old geek as well! When my dog got to this point my parents explained to me that they had to put her down – dear Mickey. It seemed way too early for a dog who was still learning new tricks.

But the Baby-Boom generation wants to live forever and if the Stones aren't proof enough – that old heroin addicts can fall out of coconut trees and be right back up on stage the next night, then look at the legions of old rockers who still refuse to give up the ghost: Ringo Starr (67) – new album this year. Ian Hunter (68) – new album last year. Iggy Pop – should have been dead years ago, but still on tour. McCartney – sung "When I'm Sixty-Four" in divorce court. And my personal favorite, Todd Rundgren who will release his latest album Arena on June 22nd, the occasion of his 60th birthday, with a private "invitation only" concert on his family property in Kauai, Hawaii before he hits the road with the show. Click on the colored "60th birthday tent" and see his personal invite.

And you ask, "Todd who?"

Todd Rundgren.

Below is a story that probably gets to the heart of my admiration for this artist and I do hope you take the time to read it, but in short, along with the Grateful Dead, Frank Zappa, the Beatles, Andy Warhol and precious few other visionaries, I believe Todd Rundgren has embodied and constantly made example and practice (for over 40 years) of the theory of making art one's business and business one's art. He's steadfastly stuck to his principles and made a buck at the same time – and in this increasingly difficult artistic landscape that may be tougher than getting a starting slot on an NBA team.

Additionally, Todd has been lauded recently in the tabloids as the stepfather of Liv Tyler and raised two boys, Rex and Randy, who currently play with MLB franchises. His third boy may turn out to be a rocker but aside from penning the hits "Hello It's Me" and "Bang On The Drum" may only be famous for never having OD'd, gone into rehab or been thrown in jail as a celebrity social example.

But this year he may make headlines for another reason. His 60th birthday party. The one – did I say, "Invitation Only?" – is an open invitation to all of his fans and anybody who can afford a plane ticket to Hawaii. He has thrown open the grounds of his compound on Kauai and invited any and all who care for his music to come for a week, camp, go on hikes, go snorkeling, do yoga, get massages, eat Hawaiian BBQ and generally have a blast while he prepares for the launch of his 36th or 37th album with a live concert on the grounds on June 22nd – and if I forgot to mention it – that happens to be my birthday as well. And to make it even more surreal, this just happens to be my 60th WWE post on Todd's 60th birthday. And no, I could not have planned that in a million years

This has got to be a first. Can you imagine Eminem or P-Diddy, Britney or anyone pulling this off? I can't. But once you begin to understand the depth and devotion of his fan base, it becomes a lot more clear – and Todd's reciprocation of that emotion to his fans, makes the whole idea come around full-circle. I just find it incredibly cool.

But alas. I won't be able to make this one.

Four years ago, a similar opportunity presented itself and I was able to wrangle a trip from Seoul to Tokyo to see Todd in his, then, latest incarnation. That's the story here, below. But this week I'll be pleased to be living vicariously through all the fans who will actually be on the property in Kauai. Doug Ford, who hosts RundgrenRadio every week, will be broadcasting nightly from the event. The TRConnection will webcast it and Todd and his team of merry pranksters will be gathering videos, photos, soundbites and the like to post on the web as things move along throughout the week. I will be in Geek Heaven for the next 7 days!

On the same day that Todd turns 60, I will be 52, and while I can't say the 50s have been as easy as all the decades previous – I can say I'm learning how to make it work more for me. One thing I've seen, and it hasn't impressed me, is a lot of people selling out – or maybe more correctly, making "selling out" their product. What I mean by this is that too many people, and I mean way-too-fucking-many, have been telling me to chill out – to stop swinging for the fences – to stop trying to do more – to be more of a soldier – to agree even when I don't – to not rock the boat – to just plain fucking grow up – to sit the-fuck-down and shut-the-fuck-up – and, maybe, as I arguably see it – to give the fuck up - incorrectly, as I arguably see it.

And they take this attitude and walk it into employers all over town, and make a whole lot more money than I do. They take crappy jobs, work crappy hours, do anything their clients ask of them and basically do it with their only plan being to bank as much cash as possible and then throw it in my face as a badge of honor against my currently humble finances. And I've seen this a lot more here in Vietnam than I ever recall having seen it in the US or even Korea. Or maybe it's always been there but I am now (quote) "adult" enough to see it more clearly. I dunno. I'm not impressed – so what I ask myself, more and more of these days, when these people confront me, is, "Do you like this person?" – "Do you respect this person?" – and, "Do you want to be like this person?"

And the answer just comes screaming back to be an unequivocal, no. No fucking way. Not in a million fucking ways do I want to get to that point in my life where I decide it's better to pull the trousers up over the belly than to loose the fucking belly! (and I mean that figuratively) Not in a million fucking ways to I want to become what I have spent a life marketing myself against. Not in a million, billion, zillion, quadrillion, arkbillybobchamillion different ways.

I'll stick with Mr. Rundgren".

To choose a line from one of his songs,

"You better choose your heroes, and choose them well, they could be leading you straight into hell!".

Happy Birthday Todd! I'm along for the ride in spirit!

...and if you've been listening to the podcast here, I've populated it generously with Rundgren tunes this week and suggest you settle in, strap those headphones down and give the following story a read.

Excerpt from Wild Wild East: Shibuya Awakening, 2004

As I rode the bus from Norita International to downtown, Tokyo revealed itself to be one of the world’s most blindingly ubiquitous urban landscapes. Swathed in grey sky and populated with grey mid-rise buildings, nothing penetrates the atmosphere more than 40 storeys and nothing stands guard to tell you that you are entering one of the most culturally vibrant cities in the world, at least not from my bus.

Having lived in Asia for the last nine years I’ve been a frequent visitor to Hong Kong, Singapore, Shanghai, Beijing and a resident of Seoul. Save for Seoul, all of the aforementioned cities boast a skyline and urban impression designed to impress. For shear Buck Rogers futurism, pick Shanghai. For international architectural sophistication it’s Hong Kong, and in Beijing, Kentucky fried capitalism lives hand in hand with old-school communism. Yes, you can actually see a KFC sign and that huge picture of Mao at the same time in Tiananmen Square.

So what does Tokyo have that these other Asian spectacles do not? Well, let’s start with a performer named Todd Rundgren and work our way from there.

Who’s Todd Rundgren you ask? Those of you who know music well will know but as successful as he has been as a writer, producer and singer, he has never been a big star. Yet, over the past 30 years he has released more than twenty five albums as a solo artist and with a band called Utopia. His songs ‘Hello It’s Me”, “I Saw The Light” and “Bang The Drum” routinely appear in movie soundtracks and his work as a producer for Meatloaf (Bat Out Of Hell), The New York Dolls, Psychedelic Furs, XTC, Grand Funk Railroad and Cheap Trick have guaranteed him a place in 70s & 80s & 90s rock royalty. His 1974 album “Something/Anything?” is on Rolling Stone’s “100 Best Albums” list and it’s been rumoured that his contract with Warner Brothers specifically stated that he had to do “one normal album” for every “weird one” he recorded.

In short Todd Rundgren has always been a musical visionary and pioneer and in a constant and almost dizzying series of re-inventions continues to record and perform new and inventive music to this day. This year he toured Holland, Scotland, England, the US and Japan with a tour called “Liars” supporting an album of the same name.

My first opportunity to see Todd came late in 1974. I had just graduated high school and had bought the album Something/Anything. To say that record was an epiphany for me would be an understatement.

That fall Todd had scheduled a show in the Quad Cities, a little collection of towns on the Illinois/Iowa border where the Mississippi river actually runs East to West. Having already seen Eric Clapton strung out on heroin and having also made it through Cheech and Chong there seemed little that this Rundgren fellow could do to surprise me. I was wrong, but wouldn’t know that for yet another three years.

In the fall of 1974 God sent me a little present in the form of a hospital stay and operation for an injury incurred while waterskiing that summer. My Todd tickets would go to my friends and I would, luckily, live to wait another day for my first Utopia concert.

Fast forward to 1977 and the RA tour. The RA tour was an art rock or some would say prog-rock extravaganza based on eastern mysticism and using full costumes and an onstage metal pyamid that he would climb and play his guitar solos on top of. Yes, now it does seem a bit like Spinal Tap but I can assure you that as college students in the Midwest it was all we wanted to see that year. The tour played Davenport Iowa and my friend, a chap named Dale Mayne, and I must have been the two luckiest guys in the hall, a beautiful fading orchestra venue in a quiet Midwestern city of 100,000. Dale had not been so lucky at birth, having come into this world with cerebral palsy, but on this particular evening his affliction would come to his, and by association, my advantage. Having called in advance to inquire about wheelchair access we were informed that all wheelchairs would occupy a reserved spot on the rail directly in front of the band. Dale, a DJ, and myself, son of an electrical engineer, wasted no time in figuring out how to conceal a cassette tape recorder under his wheelchair and run it off the chair battery. Security rolled our Trojan recording studio right up front and we lived in our own little Utopia for the next few hours.

Ah, the serendipity and freedom of youth. Would I ever get the chance to feel as if I had outsmarted the establishment in the pursuit of pure happiness again?

Well many Todd gigs have now happily come and gone for me. I’ve see him over 20 times since 1977. I have always looked longingly at the Japanese shows listed on his schedule but never found a way to mesh them into my Korean life. From here it’s virtually impossible to traverse both countries using only the English language and the flights are as expensive as flying to Hong Kong or in some cases the states. This year Todd & the Liars were scheduled to play four shows in Japan, two at a club in Tokyo called Shibuya AX.

Reading the name “Shibuya AX” on the schedule listed here and negotiating Shibuya for real are two totally different things. A visit to the AX website provides no ticket information and in fact no English, save for some of the performers names. I printed out the map for safekeeping and decided to see what I could figure out once in Japan.

Just wait until you see Shibuya. Shibuya is a district in Tokyo and the only way I could describe it would be like this: Imagine you are standing at the apex of Times Square except all the people there are from LA and no one is allowed to be over thirty!

For the record Shibuya is the youth cultural capital of Japan and Shibuya Crossing, a five way tsunami of humantide, holds the title of “Busiest intersection in the world”. And that ain’t the half of it.

There’s the Seibu, Tokyu and Parco department stores, meccas to conspicuous consumption so grand that the world’s largest Gap had to take cheaper real estate on a side street around the corner - Parco even has Parco Too because one was apparently not enough. There’s the absolute total domination of implausibly perfect plastic food glaring out from the windows of thousands of eateries as a van painted with the image of a star named “Rupee” drives around playing his song and telling you that it’s the #1 salsa record in the country and if you’re Japanese at all, you’ll do like all good Japanese and buy that record. A trip to the HMV or Tower records could well relieve any music lover of more than a few paychecks and make Debeers’ suggestion of how much to spend on a diamond look positively childish. And speaking of records stores have I mentioned used vinyl? Yes, everywhere, from the latest hip-hop DJ shops to a place called Peet Moss Records where a copy of “Kellogg’s” (yes, the cereal) Greatest Hit’s Of The 5,6,7,8s (not a typo) sits comfortably in a window next to Nazz Nazz.

And then there’s the Marvhan Pachinko Tower, a six storey gaming extravaganza that produces a din matched only by a sonic a twin sister in Vegas. And for those who really want to know, yes, the sound of tokens coming out of hundreds of Pachinko machines is markedly different than that of the same tokens being dispensed from slot machines. To hear the difference, simply ride the escalator through the complex and read the signs as they announce the type of game on each floor. There were however, some people over thirty in this place.

So back down to street level and off to Shibuya AX, but first a stop at the convenience store. A convenience store in Korea will baffle you with it’s selection of drinkable yogurts and canned coffees whilst a CV in Tokyo will baffle you with stuff that you just have no frigging idea what it is. My favorite was a product called “Coffee Jelly with Cream” which was, surprisingly, exactly what it was – a little plastic tub of coffee infused gelatin with a 1/4” of heavy cream on top to be mixed in before eating.

For all the blandness of Tokyo’s initial approach, putting your togs to the pavement is where the city really starts to shine. The streets surrounding Shibuya Crossing are a treasure trove of quaint European cafes, second hand stores, antique shops and modern furniture outlets. From old to new, from hippy to hip-hoppy, Shibuya holds all of it brilliantly and it’s a testament to Todd Rundgren that he still commands a place of honor in this unbelievably divergent cultural pietrie dish.

For what it is Shibuya AX is actually the perfect hall to see a top-notch act. An unimpressive steel building from the outside, Shibuya AX is a bi-level affair inside with SRO on the main floor and a balcony with seating on the second. A total of 800 people can fill the place and this night would see the hall full.

Down with the houselights and open to the strains of a new song “Truth”. No one is on stage. One by one the band members take their places in their respective temples and pick up their musical parts. LED lighting proves to be novel yet effective and all members are dressed in different religious attire. And then finally Todd, shrouded in a floor-length cape and hood and wearing sunglasses. Under the cape he sports a studded viking-style calf-length kilt and a tank top. (see photo attached)

The album and tour “Liars” is a concept that illustrates the idea that everyone from the church to the government to your lover lies to you just enough to get you believe the illusion they are selling. It sounds like a cynical concept but with humor, compassion, inventive staging and killer sound the concept comes off superbly in a world that hasn’t seen a “concept album” or show in a long, long time.

For their part the Japanese seemed to know all the words and pumped to all the songs. Populated with plenty of salary-man and secretarial types the crowd was much more twenty/thirty something, all in attendance for a 56 year old obscure pop star. Brilliant!

What I love most about my over 30 year journey with the music of Todd is that’s it’s always been about the journey and never the destination. No matter what incarnation I have seen him in, it has always made me happy. And I await the next page to turn as it may.

My enjoyment here is the experience that Todd has once again given me and maybe the motivation to do something more creative again with my own life. For the love of Todd’s music I was able finally to go to Japan and to do that I had to use some of that mischievous spirit that caused my friend and I to rig the Trojan wheelchair with a stereo tape recorder in 1977.

Originally my ticket had been booked by my employer for a visa trip to Osaka on Wednesday, not a day that Todd would play in Osaka. I had carefully researched the possibility of doing my business in Osaka and taking the two hour and fifty minute train to Tokyo after my meetings to see the show, and then taking the train again back to Osaka to make my plane the following morning. This would have cost nearly $300. But as luck would have it God delivered yet another small gift to me on the night prior to flying in the form of a nasty cold and flu. I overslept Wednesday and despite racing an expensive taxi to the airport was unable to make the Osaka flight. Undaunted and knowing I could do my embassy business in Tokyo as well, I inquired about changing my missed Osaka ticket for one leaving in another hour to Tokyo. Bingo. And the cost of changing that ticket? About the same as my original plan to take the train back and forth from Osaka.

Before I left Korea I had mentioned to some of my musician friends in about the possibility of seeing Todd in Tokyo and they were all a little bit jealous. When I returned on the weekend, the first thing they asked me was “Did you see Todd, did you pull it off?”

High fives filled the air and a barrage of questions was levied to be answered. All of the stories I’ve related here, were my answers. When asked why I went through such an ordeal to see Todd Rundgren in Japan, having seen him already seen him more than twenty times, I ask those who inquire quite simply:

“Do you have any idea why dogs lick themselves?”