From: Passagen Nr. 39

The Art of the Unobtrusive Difference

A conversation with Zurich composer-pianist Nik Bärtsch

By Tom Gsteiger
Translated from the German by John O’Brien

For nearly ten years, the Zurich composer, pianist and producer Nik Bärtsch (b.1971) has been involved almost exclusively in the development of his Ritual Groove Music (together with the groups Mobile and Ronin). In the process he has succeeded in creatively utilizing, and in a certain way transcending, several fields of tension simultaneously: asceticism vs. ecstasy; art music vs. popular music; funk power vs. Zen coolness, etc. Together with Kaspar Rast he inaugurated the Montags concert series at the Bazillus Club in Zurich. He has composed commissioned works for various ensembles. Nik Bärtsch not only appears in clubs and at festivals, but also creates elaborate transdisciplinary rituals with a definite affinity for Far Eastern aesthetics. The latest example of this is his Perpetual Rhythm project, which he embarked on – with his chamber music ensemble Quartet Mobile and the Butoh dance group Bodygarage – after a six-month stay in Japan. Perpetual Rhythm will be touring Japan for several weeks in the autumn of 2005 ❙

Tom Gsteiger: The great success of Sofia Coppola’s film Lost in Translation made a strong impression on the image the West has of Japan. Does this image agree with the impressions you gathered in Japan?
Nik Bärtsch: In that film Japan appears as an odd setting for bewildered Westerners in search of themselves. It conveys a picture of Japan stamped by Western notions and projections, and portrays the Japanese as bizarre figures in this “romantic” self-search. However, the main reason I don’t like the film is because of its languid rhythm. The great longing of many Western bohemians for the simplicity and slowness they believe can be found in Japan comes out both in the way the film is made and how it was received. When I was in Japan, it was the other way around; it was actually Switzerland that, from a distance, often seemed to me like an odd, mixed-up place. We Swiss live in one of the safest countries in the world, yet we’re constantly preoccupied about our well being in all possible respects. Our tendency to bemoan everything is acute, and we often display too little risk-readiness and awareness because our very prosperity has made us lose our sense of what is essential. In Japan, people are very much at the mercy of nature. For example, everybody knows they can expect a devastating earthquake at any time. It’s no accident that Mount Fuji, a volcano, is the country’s trademark. But there is no prevailing mood of catastrophe; instead, you feel a sense of closeness to nature and a behaviour characterized by serenity. It was stimulating to feel this.

Gsteiger: People weary of civilization see Zen Buddhism as an attractive alternative to a Western materialism that’s empty of meaning. You too have been occupied with Zen for some time. Isn’t there perhaps a bit of flight from the world lurking in the background?
Bärtsch: No, I pursue my affinities, even the one to funky music, for example, unconditionally but selfironically. I’m not driven by any longing for the other. I feel close to Dürrenmatt in this respect. Max Frisch, of course, was very preoccupied by a longing to belong to a great nation. Dürrenmatt, on the other hand, appreciated, cultivated and at the same time unmasked the peculiarities of Switzerland. Zen has much more to do with philosophy than with religion, in my opinion: it’s involved with practical, everyday philosophy. There's a Zen saying that goes: “Understanding is easier than practising.”

Gsteiger: In European jazz there’s still a tendency, even today, to regard American models as “the ultimate”. You seem to go in the opposite direction, facing, not “Wild Westwards" but “Far Eastwards”. But isn’t there just as much a submissive, imitative attitude behind your love for things Japanese as the one that’s behind the fetishism about New York?
Bärtsch: My Ritual Groove Music (RGM) isn't, of course, inspired primarily by ritualistic practices of Japanese origin. However, I’ve noticed that during my appearances in Japan, the people there respond to RGM right away. They love ceremonial gestures and little rituals, even if they may not understand what’s behind them. And through their tradition they have a definite sensitivity to musical space. In RGM the pull of space plays an important role. By means of repetitions and small variations, a musical space is created where an “unobtrusive difference" lets the listener enjoy contemplative concentration and aimless rambling of thought. Here there are certainly points of contact with Japanese culture.

Gsteiger: The idea of “unobtrusive difference" comes from an essay by Hans Ulrich Gumbrecht, which we both read, independently of one another, before this conversation. It’s interesting that apparently the same sentence caught our eye. It goes: “...always to produce identical forms anew, perhaps with an unobtrusive difference that reveals the skill invested in the reproduction, is – in maximum contrast to the Western drive for originality – the aim of all design in Japanese culture.”
Bärtsch: People often say the Japanese only copy everything. This is definitely not only false, but also has something to do with their respect for Western culture. This respect is also bound up with the ambition to do better, one that sometimes manifests itself in the form of an excessive nationalism. This makes a virtue into a vice. The Japanese don’t only copy, they’re also ennoblers. And above all, they’re the only “backwards-ennoblers”. With all their virtuosity in craftsmanship, they consider the step backwards to what is simple and raw to be the highest art. You can see this, for example, in a comparison between Chinese and Japanese teacups. With the latter, you can always find a tiny “defect”, but this is what makes every cup a unique piece of work. Here, too, we again encounter the “unobtrusive difference”.

Gsteiger: What’s irritating about Japan is its enormous contrasts. For many Westerners, the country remains a puzzle.
Bärtsch: But this puzzling element and the countless misunderstandings that it can originate, some of them creative, is just what I find very interesting. That’s just it; you’re not “lost in translation”! Japan is a paradise for anyone who is a student of meaning. I’m convinced that we can learn very much from other cultures, and they from us. On this earth there is no more an Evil Empire than there is a Kingdom of the Good. There are just different types of cultures, networks and communities that man has formed. I don’t really know a lot about Japan. I can only describe phenomena as I see them. What’s special and unique about Japanese civilization certainly has to do with the history and insularity of the country: for centuries its cultural and national space were identical. Today you feel there’s an enormous tension between archaic tradition and a futuristic tomorrow – there seems to be no present. There are constantly vehement debates on this subject in Japan itself. On the other hand, the Japanese have far fewer problems with ambiguities and paradoxes than we have. These are even a permanent component of their culture. For example, kanji, the Japanese characters, cannot always be unambiguously interpreted. This very ambiguity is considered a positive quality. Japan is often a puzzle to us because we think too much. The search for emphasis and intellectual depth is a typically European phenomenon. In Japan it’s not absolutely necessary to have a profound conversation in order to express sympathy. It’s enough to go for a walk together and look at beautiful flowers.

Gsteiger: When it comes to learning from other cultures, then for you as an artist, there’s also the question of authenticity. Where does real understanding of another culture begin, and where are we just dealing with folkloric stereotypes?
Bärtsch: Let me tell you about an experience I recently had in Berlin. During the Berlinale I attended a Japan Evening at the Sony Centre. The presentations were a noisy hodgepodge of archaisms and glamour. After this motley commercial event I visited the Iaidoka (Japanese sword art practitioner) Martin Krahl, who has never been to Japan, but has been interested in Japan for many years. He has the rank of Grand Master in sword combat. In his flat I saw an ikebana arrangement designed by him that had much more “spirit" than the spectacle I had witnessed in the Sony Centre. Sometimes in jazz circles the idea circulates that only a black from the ghetto can really play jazz. It's remarkable how racism can slip in through the back door...

Gsteiger: You only have to think of Joe Zawinul, who grew up in Vienna but created a sensation in the USA playing next to musicians like Cannonball Adderley and Miles Davis before starting the group Weather Report with Wayne Shorter.
Bärtsch: The only thing that surprises me with Zawinul is that in interviews he often thinks he has to justify his origin. That's unnecessary. He can phrase like the devil, no matter whether he comes from Timbuktu or Hasle-Rüegsau! It’s musically irrelevant.

Gsteiger: Community is a crucial factor for you. You're developing RGM with a firm set of musicians you’ve been closely associated with for many years. Does the idea of “community" also have an overriding meaning to you?
Bärtsch: Historically speaking, the notion of “communitas” appeared very early in Switzerland. So there’s a long tradition that we can relate to. An artist should be clearly aware that free art is only possible thanks to democracy. There was a statement at the Hirschhorn exhibition that read: “Art is the antithesis of democracy." I definitely see this otherwise. In this country, the art of hammering out creative compromises has unfortunately fallen into disrepute. But that’s precisely what it’s all about if you’re going to overcome critical situations in a differentiated way.¬

Translated from the German by John O’Brien


Links:
www.nikbaertsch.com
www.montags.com
www.bodytaster.com
www.stansermusiktage.ch
www.dynamic-switzerland.jp


Recommendations by Nik Bärtsch about Japan:

Film: Twilight Samurai (2002) by Yoji Yamada  
Manga: Lone Wolf & Cub, German, vols.I - X, Kazuo Koike & Gôseki Kojima, Planet Manga/Pannini Verlags-GmbH 2003  
CDs: In An Autumn Garden (1973) for Gagaku Ensemble, by Toru Takemitsu, Sony Records International 2002  
Books:
- Silvain Guignard, ed. Musik in Japan – Aufsätze zu Aspekten der Musik im heutigen Japan, Munich 1996  
- Ivan Morris. Samurai oder Von der Würde des Scheiterns – Tragische Helden in der Geschichte Japans, Frankfurt a.M.1989  
- Wolfgang Herbert. Japan nach Sonnenuntergang – Unter Gangstern, Illegalen und Tagelöhnern, Berlin 2002  


Along with his journalistic activity for the NZZ am Sonntag newspaper and various Swiss dailies, Tom Gsteiger (b.1970), a “homesick Bernese” living in Zurich, teaches jazz history at the schools of music in Basel and Lucerne. His most important working instrument is a General Abonnement (unlimited travel pass) on the Swiss Federal Railways.