The history of jazz in Japan is a long and interesting one. Its presence firmly entrenched. As one close friend and frequent visitor to Japan declared, “I hate jazz. But, Tokyo is jazz.” Certainly I hear more jazz, in bars, cafés, shops, restaurants, izakaya and lifts, here than I ever did in my native England. Seemingly ubiquitous, the jazz in Japan does, like so much here, have its proper place. The place to enjoy jazz was, before upmarket clubs such as Blue Note or The Cotton Club came on the scene, the jazu-kissa, or jazz-Café. Luckily, such establishments can still be found tucked away here and there throughout Tokyo. Admittedly many have seen better days, yet there remain a few gems.
The story of Tokyo's jazu-kissa is a proud one, beginning in 1929 with the Blackbird opposite Tokyo University, having weathered political and ideological storms, when jazz was warred upon by conservatives and the nationalist military regime, as well as being a cradle and inspiration for counter-culture and student radicalism in the 1960s. Of the hundreds of jazu-kissa that sprung up throughout Tokyo, and the Japanese archipelago in general, many, sadly, succumbed to the tides of time and changing tastes. Economic pressures as Tokyo rents rocketed through the heady ‘bubble’ years, and then again after its collapse and the dire straits that afflicted most Japanese businesses during the ‘lost decade’ of the 1990s, also too their toll. So too did the rise of chains such as Starbucks. When, in 2007, the final curtain fell upon the seventy-three year reign of Yokohama’s venerated Chigusa it was left to other long enduring jazu-kissa, such as Shimo-Kitazawa’s Masako, to carry the torch.
Tucked away on the corner of a side street off the main shōtengai (shopping street) leading away from the south exit of the station, just past the yakitori-ya Bunbuku, Masako’s unassuming, eccentrically decorated entrance belies the near religious experience that awaits within. As far as jazz cafes go, Masako is near perfect. The sign above the porch declares that Masako has been serving up jazz and coffee since 1953. Certainly the place is showing its age. No post-modern avant-garde Tokyoite pretentions here, just the frayed grandeur, reminiscent of the many second-hand and antique stores in the neighbourhood, and quiet surety of an establishment that has long survived by its own merits and the loyalty of customers who value its unique character, cozy atmosphere and quality music. Like all true jazu-kissa Masako’s interior is dark. Walls and ceiling stained black, by both varnish and a half-century of nicotine, adorned with oil paintings and yellowing photographs of great jazz artists and the departed mistress of the house, Masako-san, herself. Indeed, upon stepping through the front door one is immediately greeted by a painting of the smiling Masako-san with Mal Waldron.
Rope-bound wooden pillars support the low ceiling with its stained, yellowing concert posters and a ragtag assortment of low benches, chairs, sagging leather couch and tables draped in red plastic tablecloths are arranged before the two enormous Model 43438 Studio Monitor speakers that dominate the rear of the café. Various photos, ornaments and dried flowers sit atop the speakers. To the right of the room bookshelves heave with jazz magazines such as Swing Journal and Jazz Review (in Japanese, naturally) and manga for the enjoyment of customers and a large, old space heater stands erect, waiting to provide warmth to the old building in the winter months. All around the room the dark varnished wooden walls have glowing patches of rich orange-brown worn from years of customers’ backs rubbing against them. Curtains of wooden beads, hanging from the central beams dividing the room, click with the movement of the air. Aged crimson carpet tiles curl up at their corners, while ancient, blackened fans and electric heaters hang from walls and ceiling.
Small, felt-tip written menus plastered around the room offer a selection of soft drinks, the signature lemon flavoured water, hot chocolate, tea, coffee – foul, as jazu-kissa coffee traditionally is – and alcohol. Here the selection is limited, with only a few brands of over-priced whisky, bottles of chilled Asahi beer and a few gin-based drinks. At ¥650 for a large bottle of Asahi beer Masako is one of the better value jazz establishments I have tried. Light snacks such as the delicious Jam toast – slices as thick as an encyclopedia – and the ubiquitous Japanese mix tōsuto sando (toasted salad sandwich) are served at any time of day or night. Service, provided by a team of young ladies, is always prompt and polite. Signs on the wall politely request that customers visiting for more than two hours order a second time…
Since Masako-san’s passing, in the mid-1980s, the kindly 
countenance of Fukushima-san, the current master of the house, has greeted patrons old and new. The loyal following that frequent the place do so to enjoy the relaxed, private atmosphere and superlative collection of over two-thousand vinyl records and CDs while either being lost in quiet contemplation of the music swelling in their ears or otherwise being engrossed in a good book or hushed conversation with friends. Not only are the usual chain smoking, solitary, male jazz aficionados with their bowed heads in attendance, but also contemporary music lovers, couples, pensioners and Fukushima-san’s pet monkey, Mon-chan, make a regular appearance. The record collection covers decades, ranging from swing and albums from the 1950s and 60s to Motown, Blues and Fusion.
The sleeve of whichever CD or record is currently playing is displayed in the window of the booth housing the stereo system, enabling the uninitiated to know what it is they are listening to. Indeed, my own faltering steps, moleskin notebook in hand, are being led in this way. Requests are accepted if they can find it in the collection. The experience to be had at Masako is, in terms of a jazu-kissa pilgrimage, near perfect. Like stepping back in time, the Tokyo of bygone decades lives on while the music, now lively now quite, spans styles and artists seemingly infinite in their variety. Open for business every day of the week between 12 noon and 11pm, Masako tends to be busy in the late afternoon. Weekends can be packed, and very, very smoky. Much of the seating is narrow, often resulting in rather intimate encounters when busy, and as such large groups may struggle to be accommodated.
In all, Masako is a truly wonderful jazz café. Quirky, refined (musically), charming. The atmosphere of the place makes up for the coffee’s lack of quality. One can unwittingly while away an entire afternoon, wrapped in the soft hiss and crackle of old vinyl, eventually stepping out of the smoky warm to find the streets benighted. The pleasures on offer at Masako will, sadly, be available for only a little while longer. On September 23 of this year (2009) her fifty-six year reign will end. The café will close for the last time, and then the bulldozers will flatten the old building to make way for a new train station.
Visit while you still can.
Tel: 03-3410-7994
Web: http://bit.respace.jp/jazz-masako/index.html
Saturday, August 22, 2009 at 11:41AM | 
