Why Japan fell in love with jazz

Jazz is big in Japan; part of the culture. You hear it in lifts, hotel lobbies, and department stores everywhere – and not faux-jazz, smooth jazz, or easy listening either. As you stroll across the lobby toward the lift, you’re more likely to hear savage bebop licks than Kenny G.

Yet aside from ubiquitous piano star Hiromi, Japanese jazz musicians have not had much of an airing outside their own country – until now. A special concert at this year’s London Jazz Festival includes a solo performance by pianist Akiko Yano, who’s worked with Pat Metheny and the Yellow Magic Orchestra, and one from an all-star quintet led by Fumio Itabashi (piano) and Takeo Moriyama (drums).

On a recent visit to Japan, it became clear how seriously the locals take this music. I’ve been to jazz clubs in London, New York, Cape Town, Rio, La Paz and many points in between, but nowhere beats the Blue Note in Tokyo. It’s all dark wood and low lighting, with perfect sound and comfortable seating. With a capacity of 280, it’s also large for a jazz club, where shoulder-rubbing intimacy is the international norm. Even Ronnie Scott’s only seats 220.

My host for the evening was Dr Masa Shiono, who as well as running a busy medical practice and looking after two young children, is a talented and energetic bass player. He runs two regular jam sessions in the city, both of which take place in tiny cafes.

The intimacy of these spaces is unavoidable: three-quarters of Japan’s landmass can’t be built on because it consists of heavily forested mountains, so a population of 125 million is crammed into the land that remains. As a result, bars, diners and cafes are often shoehorned into spaces so small that even if all the furniture was taken out, you couldn’t even park your car.

Jazoo, in Taito City, is the size of the average living room, while Sound Gallery Slope in Shinagawa is slightly larger. On jam nights, the musicians – mostly young, many female – wander in with their instruments and sit listening at a table or on a sofa while they wait for their turn to get up and play.

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The vibe is cheerful and inclusive, and there’s no audience as such – everyone is there to play and listen. At Sound Gallery Slope, the evening concludes with everyone joining in on an improvised 12-bar blues – multiple pianists, drummers and bass players swapping over mid-tune.

For those who prefer a quieter life, there is that uniquely Japanese institution, the jazz kissa. From Matsumoto to Kanazawa, you will find these pocket-sized dimly lit bars and cafes, too small even for a jazz jam. The idea is to sit there quietly with a coffee or a whiskey and a snack, listening to jazz played on high-end audio systems.

The owners (always men of a certain age) have invested shocking amounts of money: thousands of vinyl albums line the walls, ready to be placed on expensive turntables and played out through studio-quality sound systems. Most kissa have been there for years, tucked away in a side street or above a restaurant, the walls and shelves covered in fading posters and other jazz memorabilia. Many are so petite that the owners have to turn people away once nine are seated. This intimacy contributes to the charm.

Mao Yamada is a jazz bassist who has lived in London for decades, but goes back home every year. He loves kissa – and doesn’t think they appeal only to older nostalgists. “Young people don’t have big systems for playing recorded music, or the space you need to keep vinyls or CDs or tapes, and being able to turn the music up, to the detriment of your relationships with your neighbours,” he says. “So I think young people appreciate the special space, where the music isn’t just coming from your ear-pods or headphones, that super-clinical digital sound.”

There is more, though, to the Japanese love of jazz than merely a wish to escape from the pressures of everyday life. It’s a country that loves detail: you can see it in the exquisite presentation of food, the design of children’s toys, and the delicate way everything is packaged. You also see it in anything that requires close study – and that includes the skills involved in playing jazz.

“We’re quite nerdy as a nation,” says Mao Yamada. “People tend to get into playing the instrument, and also quite knowledgeable of the history and development of certain styles. And if they’re a fan of one player, they tend to know everything about them.”

Of course, when it comes to jazz, imitation is limitation, and the jury is out on whether there is a recognisably Japanese style. “We are really good at copying styles and shapes and stuff,” adds Mao, “but it takes a while before you get to the actual emotional content, really connect with the authenticity.”

Japanese Jazz is at the Barbican, London, on 23rd November.

Peter Jones is a jazz musician, journalist and author