September 12, 2002.

By Akiko Yoshikawa, Japan (y-acco@zk9.so-net.ne.jp):

My name is Akiko Yoshikawa and I am from Japan. I have been studying Music Therapy and Soundscape at Tokyo University of Fine Arts and Music as a postgraduate student since last April. I am writing in response to Diego Schapira's column "New Sounds in Culture," (http://www.voices.no/columnist/colschapira110202.html) which we discussed in my music therapy seminar.

I was not aware of "cacerolazo" and "the march of keys during the Velvet Revolution." They are not familiar to us in Japan. I believe that each period, country, and culture has sounds of its own, and agree with Mr Schapira that we should pay attention to the cultural context of the person who is asking for help.

In my seminar, we thought about "sounds in our culture." I asked the members of the seminar what kind of sounds in Japanese culture we have in common, and they answered sounds of "wadaiko" (Japanese drum), music of "bon-odori " (Japanese folk dance), and songs of scenes of our home towns (red dragonfly, hometown, song of seashore...).

We also thought about sounds in present-day Tokyo, and then noticed that we hear unexpectedly few sounds. It doesn't mean that we actually have few sounds, but that we have a lot of choices as today's varied Tokyo culture is overflowing with sounds. While information quickly spreads out over every part of Japan, I am afraid that the sound culture in a single community is getting poorer, especially in Tokyo, the great city. The sounds that almost everyone living in Tokyo knows are the melodies of stations. They sound when trains are on the point of starting.

Some memories can surge up when we hear certain sounds, and also through other senses. For example, according to one woman in the seminar, the smell of incense sticks and the sound of the Buddhist scriptures remind her of the temple where she lived in her youth. Her senses of smell and hearing may be not independent but correlate with each other. Moreover, another woman remembers the shrine where she stayed during every summer vacation when she hears "Norito" (a prayer of Shintoism, the religion of Japan, in which nature and ancestors are worshiped). The shrine where Norito echoes through the season summer (hot weather, droning of a cicada) can be revived through the senses of her whole body.

We each have such experiences. The senses cultivated by such experiences are different individually. In music therapy sessions, it is important to pay attention to life histories of each person and to practice according to them.

Applying such ideas, we can extend the field of therapy. In Japan, for instance, "therapy with sounds of nature and sounds in life" was reported. It was practiced for clients of cerebral accident. The purpose of the therapy was arousing their interest in rehabilitation. According to the report, sounds in their memories stimulated their brains and moved their hearts beyond time and space. At last, functioning of the hands and feet of the clients improved and their lives also improved.

I wonder if therapy is practiced with sounds of nature or sounds in life in Diego Schapira's country of Argentina and/or in other countries. If readers know of people practicing such a therapy, I would appreciate knowing about them.