November 18, 2018 - June In Hiroshima

During my first quarter at UCLA, when I was still officially a piano performance major, for my freshman ethnomusicology requirement, I took the Koto.

I don’t understand how I passed this two-unit elective.

I had no real appreciation of the traditional beauty of the instrument, wasn’t that interested in its culture, and players were supposed to sit properly on their knees for each lesson. I didn’t do that until the final where I got a double leg cramp, had to have a friend pick me up, and drive me a tenth of a mile back to the dorms.

Years later, I got free tickets to the Aratani Theatre in Little Tokyo. On the front half of the bill was the band Hiroshima, which features the one and only June Kuramoto.

I had heard Hiroshima many times over on 94.7 The Wave in Los Angeles growing up. But those recordings do not accurately reflect what June does as a musician, nor speak to who she is as a person… the definition of class.

June does not ignore tradition. She embraces it. But as she describes her career, she had great interest in other types of music…. Jazz, rock and roll…. You name it.

So after a couple of culturally appropriate numbers at the show, June suddenly railed on her koto like an electric guitar. And I was hooked.

I HAD to meet this tradition-bending musician, so I fan-stalked June through Facebook.

It took months for a response, because, you know, why would you just write back to some random person if you’re a public figure.

But after several email exchanges and due diligence on her end, she agreed to meet me for lunch.

What I found fascinating is that often musicians just want to talk music. They have already agreed in their mind to do whatever they can to help your organization, especially those more seasoned musicians, and they are so open to sharing and passing their wealth of information onto the next generation.

There were no plans for world music prior to meeting June. In fact, in our initial curriculum sketches, we’d walk through the symphony orchestra in year one, hit jazz in year two, and world music was a possibility for year three, if the kids made it that far.

June and I talked about her life journey, her passion for alternative types of music, how she was colleagues with my UCLA koto professor (why does this happen?), and then about the history of the koto, and how we could bring this to the young composers.

What was supposed to be a ninety minute lunch, turned into four hours. June spoke about how the voices of various East Asian string instruments took on the sounds of the local languages. She discussed working with Miles Davis and her thoughts around creativity.

We needed to bring June in to talk to the kids sooner rather than later, and not three years down the road. She was equally ecstatic about mentoring and helping Inception. At this meeting, we were in the “haven’t done anything yet phase”. And while it’s extremely easy to say yes to something when it’s well-established, it is something special when someone tells you to just call her up to schedule.

On November 18, 2018, June kept her word (as she’s done many times over since). She invited Jayleen Montoya to her house for a private session.

June Kuramoto, wearing a black sweater with white circles players her koto with Jayleen Montoya, wearing a brown leather jacket and black pants, plays her guitar.

This was day after our first filmed pilot day. I was exhausted. I didn’t bother unloading my keyboard from the car. I didn’t shave. I put on some ratty T-shirt.

At her studio in Alhambra, June welcomes in a humble, unassuming, rock-a-billy playing, high school junior with very little formal training. Jayleen had participated in a session the day before with Molina. But this was something so spectacularly different.

For the next hour, June jammed with Jay, gave her every bit of creative encouragement and improvisational wisdom, and got Jay out of the safety of a three-note chord progression.“You do not need education to be creative. It’s naturally in you,” says June.

We were filming in 360 (degrees) that day. There is nowhere to hide. But in order to give Jay a little more breathing room to improv, I bit the bullet, grabbed my keyboard from the car, and joined the session, stubble growing and dressed like a schlub. (From here on out, I tried [and was largely unsuccessful] to be more camera ready.)

This day with June Kuramoto was what I knew I wanted Inception to be for every young composer.