Tear out of school and take the solid orange Chuo line to Kichijōji. Shin, Emi, Chris, Shungo, Andrew, Brett, they nickname you “New Kid” and say you look like the bassist from Green Day. Skate down to the studio, just a few minutes from the station exit. Before heading up to hang out and take a turn behind the kit for 20 minutes, stop by a record store to browse the newest Fat Wreck Chords and Caustic Resin CDs in between Japanese grindcore 7”s. Was this the record store called Warszawa? Or was Warszawa in Shimokitazawa? Wherever it was, of one thing your memory is sure: you all pronounce the name “Wor-ti-zow-wa.” Then on to the teenage pop-punk jam with Dan and Adam moshing in the corner. The studio practice rooms all have huge racked drums with tons of cymbals and toms, you are just learning to play and don’t even know how to keep the kick in time. When you tell Shungo maybe you’ll just not use the kick at all, he says calmly, “you should try to learn, cause it’d sound better.” Amps crunch and squeal, covers of Propagandhi, NOFX, and Lagwagon for a couple hours. The drumming continues round your head well after you sit down to a quick pork tonkatsu and then go skating in Shinjuku.
One recording of recent drums + resonators + delay = extension of drum memory to recent Ohio past.
One drum rack constructed out of snippets from recording above + random MIDI pattern generator = memory of learning to play the basic teenage punk beat.
One additional drum kit + random MIDI pattern generator = half-memories of all those years learning to play drums.
Another additional drum kit + random MIDI pattern generator + resonator = half-memories of Tokyo.