The ambulances are screaming. We look up and see a big tear in a steel fame right by our apartment building. We wonder but figure it’s not a murder because we don’t read about it, and there aren’t that many murders in Tokyo. Every time we see the broken frame, we wonder who it could have been. And what might have driven this individual, whom we don’t know and never will know, male or female, young or old, happy or unhappy, probably unhappy, literally over the ledge to a dark deep definitive leap of death. It does not make us feel very good. Every time we see that broken frame. A few weeks later, the frame gets fixed. And we stop wondering.
Featuring Tea on vocals and the YURICANE band with Hideyuki Asada (guitar, arrangement, audio mastering), Hiroshi Tokieda (bass) and Takuma Anzai (drums).
Photo by On Lim Wong.
I started working on this song in February 2019. It’s finally finished in 2023, as a recording, with singing and music. The piece is about how people like to talk about “what’s happening” or what’s going to happen. But most of the time, nothing happens. And nothing needs to happen. If anything, it can be a good thing when nothing happens. With the pandemic unfolding, the song became for me more pertinent than ever. I reworked the song to reflect that. In June 2020, I added the rap section in Japanese that refers to the death of George Floyd. We must not forget how precious those moments are when horrible things that can happen don’t happen, and we can just sit back and enjoy the passage of time, when utterly nothing happens.
Nothing happens なにもおこらない
_ a poem/song by Yuri Kageyama
(1)
Nothing happens
Bombs no longer falling
Nations aren’t
killing
Nothing happens
^___<
(2)
Nothing happens
Women aren’t
screaming
Children
aren’t starving
Nothing happens
^___<
(BRIDGE)
なにもおこらない
このきもち
なにもおこらない
しずけさ
^___<
(4)
Nothing happens
The stars will
shine
Behind clouds
that hide
Nothing
happens
^___<
(5)
Nothing happens
Birds, blossoms remind
The passing of
time
Nothing
happens
^___<
(rap section)
Nothing
happens
We took it for
granted
Nothing is
boring
Nobody up to
no good
Looking for something
Something to
happen
Before the
coronavirus
Now we wake
up to numbers
Pray the curve gets flattened
Pray it’s no
one we know
Waiting for
a vaccine
Scared by
the sirens
Italy, New
York, Spain, Wuhan, Tokyo
Now nothing
else happens
Nothing else
can happen
Now you know
it:
Now you wish
you didn’t wish it
Now you know
for sure you like it
When Nothing
happens
Yeah, Nothing happens
なにもおこらない
死ぬまえ
のこる生命で
えらんだ言葉
息ができない
彼のおもい
アメリカの差別
歴史のおもい
すべてすごくて
言葉がない
息ができない
息ができない
You know
that’s the view:
No news is
good news,
It’s so
quiet you can hear it
Silence is
the music
When NOTHING HAPPENS
^___<
なにもおこらない
このきもち
なにもおこらない
しずけさ
^__<
Nothing
happens
The Virus descends
Like a stranger
of death
Nothing
happens
^___<
Nothing happens
We can forget
the rest
How we miss
those days
When Nothing happens
^—–<
And this is how the song all started; the clip below is from while it’s in the works (Artwork by Munenori Tamagawa):
I still like this Story I did for The Associated Press some time ago when I interviewed a former kamikaze pilot. It was still online at The Detroit News.
My father died in his 70s, a big man with big ambitions, prone to cruelty and violence but just as quick with his brilliance, generosity and humor. He calmed down a bit with age. And it was natural he was far more loved by his grandchildren, who found him just hilarious, than by his daughters, who had found him oppressive. His desk upstairs had to be cleaned out after he died. My mother found bags of treats like nuts and kakinotane he was secretly eating, because his doctors had put him on a strict diet for his heat condition. She also found toy magic tricks he had also bought secretly and had been practicing to impress his grandchildren. They adored him, played games, ran around outside with him, going fishing or going on goofy rides at a tiny park. They would laugh and laugh with this old roly-poly man, who was really just one of them, never mind he was a former NASA engineer and university professor. My mother used to say my father always acted as though he couldn’t care less if his grandchildren visited or not. She wondered why he would say such an obviously untruthful thing. That was my father, too proud and too big and strong to admit to any weakness, like missing his grandchildren. There is nothing as heartbreaking as love because even love must come to an end with death. But love that can’t be expressed openly, and must be stashed away like magic tricks in the drawer of a desk. I don’t know what to call such love. But it is love.
Funny how the most unpoetic of activities can become all of a sudden emotional. That, to me, is a haiku moment. And I tried to capture that, as well as honor and express my gratitude for the long years of working with this colleague. I know I will think about him, now and then, like today. Feb. 9,2023.
My poetry is in great company here in LIFE AND LEGENDS Twelfth Edition July 15, 2022, Irvine, CA, USA. Thanks to the Editor-in-Chief: Kalpna Singh-Chitnis.
