There are a lot of places in the world I have yet to see. Japan is not one of them. Long before last June, the first time I set foot in most countries of the European Union, I had already been to Japan five times - with three different bands. It's a little funny (to me, anyway) to tell you I know my way around the Shin-Juku District, which happens to have that crazy seven pointed intersection you've see in movies and commercials a million times. If you saw The Story of Anvil, it's the intersection they walk across as they are enveloped in people at the end of the movie after having played a successful show at Tokyo's SAITAMA SUPER ARENA. The festival Anvil played was called Loud Park '08 - which, coincidentally, as a part of the Loaded band I was lucky enough to be invited to in 2009. On a previous trip, we stayed at the same hotel with the enclosed rooftop pool overlooking an amazing skyline that Bill Murray utilized in the movie Lost In Translation. 

The thing about Japan is - for the most part - as an American (or any international band) there are only a handful of cities you'll end up being booked to play. You won't find yourself doing a three-week tour of Japan for the simple reason that there are a finite number of markets.  You are usually in Japan for less than a week, and with the two biggest cities being Tokyo and Osaka, there is ALWAYS someone else playing in town. Or, at least, the night before. Or the night after.

Just like this one time...

Loaded flew into Osaka for a gig the next night. We had heard Ozzy was playing that night, but that we arrive too late to see the show. Mike Squires and I were super excited at the likelihood of maybe running into Zakk the guitar player, who was a friend of Duff's. Duff, however, had mixed feelings about possibly running into Zakk, as he had taken to not showering for extended periods of time and drinking enormous amounts of shitty beer, generally contributing to a less than pleasant social outlook. Mike and I were having none of it. For different reasons, we were both stoked.  Mike had always been a fan of Zakk's. They both have the same virtuoso-y, unpredictable style of playing. And I think not buried very far below the surface in Mike there was a bearded, non-showering, socially-dangerous guitarist in a world-class rock band hoping to emerge. Hanging with an actual one, maybe he could osmosis-ize some mojo. Or something.

As for me, I'm all about the repeat performance. There is nothing I like more than meeting someone who I may some day consider a peer, and then meeting them again. It's kind of like being a magician. The trick isn't to make something disappear; the trick is bringing it back. The more often you show up on the radar of those you wish to run with, the closer you come to realizing your dream... somehow. As it so happened, a couple years earlier, when Duff and I were doing some recording at his place in Laurel Canyon, Zakk had called the house while Duff was out running up trees, or visiting the vitamin store, or snorting energy supplements or whatever, and I answered the phone. I told him who I was and what I was doing there, and we went on to shoot the shit for a good thirty minutes. Mostly about how frustrating it was that his wife let the dogs shit all over everything while he was on tour. He made me laugh a few times and I think I got him with a zinger or two as well. When we hung up, it was with a (said in a Cookie Monster voice), "Nice talkin' with ya, brother." It was fucking killer.

So, although we had vastly different reasons for wanting the run in, Mike and I were both pretty excited at the proposition - and it's safe to say we were willing it to happen. 

We get to the hotel, and this being my second trip to Osaka, I know the only bar we need to worry about going to is the Rock Rock - and I won't shut up about it. And I haven't since I first found out we had a night off in Osaka on my first trip to Japan with New American Shame. I was itching to get back. As two of the guys in the band had never been to Japan, and the one other couldn't remember anything from being there, I had them all convinced that it would be well worth our time. 

Like all things in Japan, the Rock Rock bar is TINY. If you're looking from above, the door opens into the bottom left hand corner of a square-ish room with tall ceilings that is no more than eight paces across. It has one table directly across the room in the upper left corner that should seat four people, but the room is so small the table seems like one from your middle school cafeteria and you inevitably end up squeezing nine people around it if you are lucky enough to commandeer the thing in the first place. To the right, the bar is on the same wall as the entrance, and between the two there are several glass trophy case type displays. Every conceivable inch of these cases is filled with Polaroid pictures of bands that have patronized the joint. Along the entire right wall, and connecting with the bar in the bottom right hand corner of the room (again if viewing from above), is a DJ booth. To the left of the entrance shoots a tiny hall with more trophy cases and the bathrooms. That's it. Oh, that - and they play rock music at almost unbearable volumes all night. If you're in a band, they're playing your music - which is pretty great.

We leave the hotel and jump in a taxi (taxi' doors in Japan open automatically - don't bother reaching for the handle) and we head to our destination. The night is full of possibilities.

Just then, who do we see waiting at the stop light, across from the bar, with a few of cohorts, in his unmistakable leather trench over jean vest over leather jacket and a wallet chain made of a chain link big enough to lock up a motorcycle?

The one. The only.... Zakk Wylde.

(To be continued...) 

Drummer Geoff Reading — who writes a bi-weekly online column (Fridays) for the Weekly Volcano called “Holding Down the 253” in addition to his weekly Wednesday music column — has played music in tons of Northwest bands — Green Apple Quick Step, New American Shame, Top Heavy Crush and most recently Duff McKagan's LOADED — to name but a few. He's toured the world several times over, sharing stages with the likes of Slipknot, The Cult, Buckcherry, Korn, Journey, The Sex Pistols, Nine Inch Nails and on and on. He has called Tacoma home since 2005, and lives in the North End with his wife and son.