ABSTRACT
This is how the man of Kyōto puts into words the shrill beat of the cymbal-gongs that rings through the Gion Festival, the highlight of Kyōto's full festival year. The gongs are shaped in a circle, and a lip runs round their circumference. They are held triangle-like and struck with a metal-tipped drumstick. ‘Kon’ is a full bang, on centre; ‘chiki’ is the stick moving rapidly up and down and striking the upper and lower lip; ‘chin’ is another centre beat, followed by a rest. The whole tenor of the festival is set by the gay and cheeky lilt of the gong's rhythm; its piercing ring dins in your ears, sets your feet moving and your body swaying and emerges high and clear through the notes of the rest of the musicians—whether they bang away on their drums or puff red-cheeked into their flutes—and the jumble of noises from the crowd down below. Japan has a wealth of sound, and her people are quick to appreciate it; it makes them write phrases like ‘bee-loud summer afternoon’. But Kyōto's Gion Festival must be one of the richest collections of them all.
