Kenji Iwamitsu-Holdaway is an award-winning musician. A member of Auckland band Yoko-Zuna, he has also performed with numerous big names including Six60. Iwamitsu-Holdaway is currently a sound designer and composer for Auckland Theatre Company's Scenes from a Yellow Peril at ASB Waterfront Theatre, June 21-July 3.
I didn't talk 'tilI was 5. My teacher thought I was autistic, but it turns out I just didn't have anything to say. I remember having speech therapy. I was told, if you're going to school you should probably start talking, so I went to classes, to work on my speaking.
For a long time I still didn't talk much to other kids, and on the first day of school I didn't say a word. According to mum, the other kids made fun of me, but I can't remember any of it. I think maybe my brain cuts negative memories out.
I always knew I wanted to do music and my first vivid memory is of my first piano lesson. Although I wasn't actually that enthused about the piano. I didn't practise that much and it wasn't 'til I picked up the guitar, when I was at intermediate school, that I became obsessed with music, and that's when I started playing every hour of the day.
I partly started guitar because I wanted to copy my brother - which he found annoying - but then I loved it for myself. I also have perfect pitch, so you can play any note and I'll know what it is, which is partly what made guitar come naturally to me, then for about five years I learnt from YouTube.
From the start, I was very clear that I wanted to play fast. I wanted to be the fastest and best guitarist in the world and every time there was a talent quest I would get up and shred. Shredding was definitely my long-term life plan.
My mum thought I should be a doctor. So for a while I'd tell people I wanted to be a doctor. Once I started high school, I worked at a music shop, and if I told people I wanted to be a doctor they were like no you're a musician. I also knew inside me, it was no to being a doctor, because for me there has never been anything but music, and it was just a matter of choosing the way in.
For a while, I was really into jazz, so I went to The University of Auckland Jazz School. My teacher was Dixon Nacey. He's probably the best guitarist in New Zealand and he's the best teacher I ever had. Not only is he a great guitarist, but he's also an incredible teacher. He is so passionate and he brought so much mana and energy to every lesson. He talked about the spirituality of music. He'd ask, what is the music trying to do? He also put me on to a lot of my good gigs. He has been super generous, like a shredding Buzz Lightyear.
I also do quite a bit of teaching. I have 45 students, which is enough for a few hours every day. I see each student as a nut to crack. I have to figure out what they want beyond music, what gets them going, and when I figure that out, that's the bait I use to get them to learn. At the moment a lot of kids want to learn memes, and if that's what they want to learn, that's cool with me. We still have to figure out what time signature it's in, and what key. It's still music and knowledge is still required to play memes. But the hardest part, it takes a lot of will power to learn music. It can also be quite literally painful when you start guitar, so you have to want to play, to force yourself through that pain.
I also learnt surfing from YouTube. I searched up these two Aussies and they're like: "hey mate, this is how you pop up on the board". I started by going out to the west coast with dad. He'd sit on the beach and make sure I didn't drown because it can be very intense out there. You have to have your wits about you and check the surf forecast. Sometimes the waves are beautiful glassy and clean, which is so peaceful, although most of the time it's like a washing machine.
I always knew I wanted to do music, but for a long time, I struggled with why. It's not a necessity, not like needing functional things, like food and shelter, and to be healed. So why should I do music? Shouldn't I help people with things they actually need? But the answer came when I asked myself, why do we live in the first place? Because if there was no joy, or no beauty, and we didn't strive to be happy, why would we keep on living? Because I'm not just making music, I'm also searching for joy and happiness, which are essential, because they give us a reason to live. Music is vital to people, and that's why I do it.
I loved touring with Six60. I frothed over those big shows. The energy you get from playing to tens of thousands of people is amazing, the buzz you get from a massive crowd. Although there's something really special about small shows, too. Whether you get energy from a small group of people in a room, or from that huge concert feeling, there's nothing like live performance.
In the world of jazz school, some people were very focused on being technical, or as complicated as they could be, and some people from that formal environment could be a bit condescending towards pop music. But I want to break away from the mentality, because, to me, whatever music makes people happy, that's cool. No one should ever be condescending to a musician when they're expressing themselves and sharing their gift with the world.
It might not be the music you personally like, but you still need to respect it. Having done so many shows with Six60, I've seen Matiu [Walters] onstage a lot, and he performs every show with so much mana. He puts so much focus into making sure every crowd has the best time ever, so I don't like to hear people criticise pop artists. All musicians deserve respect.
My mum is Japanese and my dad is Pākeha. People say I don't look that Japanese, so I've not faced that much racism, but again, maybe my brain has done that thing where it cuts out the bad stuff. But the thing that affects me more than any racism I've faced, it's the things some of my friends have experienced.
While working on Scenes from a Yellow Peril, I've thought a lot about what people I know have been through, because the play explores themes of racism towards Asians and it unpacks a lot of trauma which has been eye-opening for me. This play removes the cover people often put over racism. That's one of its aims. It's like we've sewn up a wound so we can get on with life, but it's still a bit infected inside, so this play is a bit like ripping it open and having a look to see if we can make it better.