The pain emanating from these tracks through the strained and urgent whine of Patricks stacked sax solos, as well as heavy overcast and heat of the production, helped me explore my thoughts and feelings on these matters in both real and constructive ways. But the anguish which Patrick was clarifying with the wail of his instrument was augmented by something else... joy, vitality, insight, and hope. While a cloud certainly hangs over the procession, the music is most accurately a reflection of life, in all its busy and disorganized hues.
The grooves Patrick slips into often resemble the bustle of traffic, the banter at a grocery store or between friends over tea, or children racing to school before the opening bell- the skipping cadence of their footfall mimicked by the wavy currents of Patrick's playful keen, resonating like a protective aura around the ordinary, the mundane, and happy patterns of the every day that bring us as close as possible to realizing the road to the paradisal.
Still, the cloud lingers and I can't sweep it away. What was this tragedy he was getting at? What was it that swept these happy lives into the abyss? A fire? A flood? Some other act of a careless god? Or was it an act of man? An air raid or other act of war? It turns out the latter is the closest to the truth.
After looking at the promotional materials for the album, I realized what Partick was trying to tell me. The title Hidemi is a reference to his grandfather, Hidemi Pat Shiroishi- one of the thousands of Americans held prisoner in the Western half of the country during WWII. Patrick's grandfather was one of the more than 120,000 Japanese Americans who were forcibly relocated or imprisoned between 1941 and 1945 following the United State's declaration of war with Japan. During this period, many people lost everything- evicted and forced into labor camps for no other reason than their heritage. Dispossed of nearly all their person property, their labor was exploited by the very government that had deprived them of their rights to aid in its war effort against the Japanese- forcing them to work as farmhands and in other essential, war-time industries or little to no pay compensation, and under the threat of violence and further repercussion.
Patrick's own grandfather spent four years in prison at the Tule Lake concentration camp in California for the crime of having Japanese heritage. Hidemi's experience at the camp profoundly effected him and his sense of identity as an American, and the topic remained one that both Patrick's grandparent's avoided talking with him well into his teens- nearly 60 years after his grandfather's release.
The forced relocation and deprivation experinced by Japanese Americans is something that is poorly remembered and understood by most Americans, despite its long legacy and the dogged consequences for those who were victims of it. It is a part of the country's history that is incompatible with many's understanding of the goals and ideals of US society as a whole- especially during one of its more progressive political periods. Even when acknowledging the bare facts of these historical events and the impact they had on real people, these gaps in understanding remain wide and the approach for bridging these gulfs remains uncertain. But any great task begins with an investigation and interrogation of the facts. Hidemi is certainly this, only Patrick is using sound as its tool of discovery, as well as a means to stating its conclusions.
Any knowing we can obtain has to have its origins somewhere. Understanding never springs from nothing. And if Hidemi can become the spark that illuminates your own comprehension of these events, then you will be better off for it. The album has certainly engaged me to come to better terms with this aspect of our nation's history, and I'm thankful for the wisdom that it has imparted, as well as the opportunity to reminisce, learn, and grow.
