I am headed to Tokyo on Friday to record an album in collaboration with my friend and acclaimed guitarist, Yoshiyuki Sahashi. Many longtime Japanese friends will participate along with top musicians Sahashi is assembling. We are grateful to Vivid Sound Corporation for their participation and support, founders of whom I met during my first tour in 1978. What follows is a chapter from my memoir, Hardtail Strat.

Japan

We were driving down

from Maine

playing Kenny’s Castaways

in the Village,

every other month or so.

One night Don Rubin came in.

He was the “R” in KR Records,

our first record company

when I was eighteen.

It was good to see him.

We had a history,

and felt a connection,

and started talking.

He offered me a publishing deal.

I began making demos in Boston

at Triton.

My friend Michael Golub,

who I would do a lot of work with,

was the engineer there.

Late one afternoon 

the band walked into

No Tomatoes, in Auburn.

We were there to set up

for the gig that night.

The bartender said,

Hey, I have something for you,

and handed me

an airmail envelope.

It was from Japan.

I opened it.

There was photo

of a young Japanese man,

holding the Peter Gallway album,

with the brown cover.

He had heard I was living

and performing in Maine,

and told me how much

my music meant to him.

The letter was signed,

Yuzuru.

It turns out,

the Fifth Avenue Band album,

released in ‘69,

had created a following

in Japan.

This was 1976.

I answered Yuzuru’s letter.

I wanted to thank him,

and to be gracious

included a cassette

of some of the new demos.

He wrote back saying

he had given the demos

to the head of one of

the largest indie labels

in Japan.

With Don Rubin representing,

we wound up making a deal.

And then I was offered

a full-on tour.

Six cities. We took it.

A couple of years before,

I walked into a funky bar

in Portland during happy hour.

A guy was singing,

and playing a blond

Gibson ES-175.

I felt like I was listening

to myself.

We were coming

from the same

lyric-driven, R&B roots.

I said hello on the break

and he said he was

Larry John McNally.

I had heard about him,

and he said,

he’d heard about me.

And we began

one of my closest

friendships.

When the offer

of the Japanese tour came in

I asked Larry to join me,

as my accompanist on guitar.

By then he had moved to LA,

been signed by Cavallo,

and his first record had been

produced by Jon Lind.

As I always say,

there are no degrees

of separation.

When the time came,

I flew to LA,

met with Donny,

rehearsed with Larry,

and off we went, JAL.

One night after

the concert, over dinner

with Larry, Donny, me,

and assorted

new-found friends,

and a generous amount

of sake,

the promoter quietly

asked,

Are you gentlemen?

We looked at each other.

He said,

Do you like ladies?

We looked at each other.

And said,

Sure.

We piled into a car.

Larry and Donny

gave me their money

to hold.

I guess they thought

I’d been around.

I stuffed it down

the front of my pants.

What happened next

was like

a Keystone Cops movie.

We went from brothel

to brothel, but either

they were full,

or closed,

or didn’t want foreigners,

or who knows what.

Finally,

we thanked our host,

as graciously as we could,

and made it back

to the hotel in one piece.

The movie,

Lost In Translation,

provides a picture

of the culture-shock,

and the jet lag.

You sleep the first night,

and then you’re awake for a week.

And I’ve fallen in love,

or thought I did,

a few times,

halfway around the world,

but I am always

instantly transported

to a movie

I would just as soon

be in.