Until I did some research I had always supposed that Western classical music arrived in Japan with MacArthur and the American occupation of 1945-51. Quite wrong: After the Emperor’s restoration in 1860 the country turned decisively to the West, seeking industrial and cultural influence from Germany and Britain in particular. Western instruments were imported and teachers engaged. Military bands were already formed before 1900, and the Tokyo Philharmonic was founded as early as 1911, with instruments from Britain and teachers from Germany. Commercial recordings followed in the 1920s and 30s, and, unsurprisingly to me, show as little sign of vibrato as European ones of similar date. The current Japanese mania for Western Classical music, with no less than eight symphony orchestras in Tokyo and 1600 of different kinds in the whole country, has a long pedigree.

My first visit was not until 2001, with the Stuttgart Radio Orchestra. You can read about it in their own chapter, but I cover it again here: The influence of Karajan’s legacy in Japan made me a little anxious about our possible reception there before this first visit. My work with SWR had changed them a lot since their previous ones. Would our clean pure tone, heard by some as “cold”, make these famously knowledgeable music buffs think we were a school orchestra?

But how little I needed to fear. Audiences and critics were amazingly positive. At a dinner at the end of the tour (seated at ground level with a cook at the table) I asked the promoter what he specially liked about the sound. His answer was “warmth”! I totally agreed with him, but noone had ever said that before. The Japanese have an annual critics survey rating all the concerts each year. That year the Vienna Phil was top; second was the RSO,- a remarkable achievement, with hangers-on further down like the Berlin and New York Philharmonics, the LSO etc. It seems we struck a surprising chord.

Three other very successful tours followed, one result of which led to my being asked to guest with the top Japanese orchestra, the NHK. It was in 2011, and only a few weeks after the fatal Tsunami. Many soloists and groups cancelled, but after consulting our Embassy I decided to go.

For weeks after the Tsunami very few people flew. The impressive First Class cabin on my JAL flight out had only one other passenger. The eight other great thrones were empty; a peaceful journey. When I arrived the orchestral managers were terribly grateful that I had come. But they did have one request: At the first concert they would like me to bring a spoken message from Britain, and a suitable piece of English music to dedicate to the victims of the tragedy. They were quite pleased when a 77 year old English gent powered up his computer and found internet score and parts of Elgar’s Elegy ready to print on Petrucci. I hadn’t ever seen the piece before, so asked that a score be delivered at breakfast next morning.

The minute the managers left my 25th floor apartment  a heavy after-shock struck Tokyo. I was apparently in a super-safe hotel, but even so the experience was quite disturbing. I quickly sat on the bed  as the floor was moving  about so much. More eerie was the cracking noise as the corners of the room rubbed together.

The next big after-shock came a couple of days later, when we were rehearsing Eroica on the stage of a large theatre, with rows of lights on gantries overhead. The sudden fierce rattling of these lights coincided with the trilling of 90 smart phones as the whole orchestra received the automatic government earthquake alert. In a flash the stage was deserted, leaving a pensive maestro still at his post. After  a few minutes the players crept back, apologising for their temporary absence. We carried on, undaunted; I half expected them to play everything quietly from now on.

For several years in a row I enjoyed these visits, for three weeks at a time. Four days rehearsal and two concerts each week. NHK is probably the best orchestra I ever conducted. Technically perfect, incredibly hard working, and surprisingly open and musical. Not a trace of vibrato: they had evidently been given strict instructions. But I found it hard that they never smiled; I like a happy orchestra. When I asked the Manager if they were enjoying themselves he replied “Oh yes; they are smiling inside”.

With first class travel, the grandest of grand hotels, chauffeured limousines, amazing halls, and sold-out audiences, these were times to savour, especially since I was in addition being paid a king’s ransom in fees. Three weeks in Tokyo could account for half my annual income!  One year Kay and Tom came out with me to take part in the Beethoven 9 frenzy that grips the nation at Christmas. A total of 100 performances are given in Tokyo by all the different orchestras. I contributed a mere 6 in a row. Must do better next time.

I was not however prepared to do better with one offer that came through on the phone at Nalderhill. It was a request to perform all 9 of Beethoven’s symphonies in Tokyo in one day.  3 different orchestras, one rehearsal for each symphony, no doubt a strong pair of running shoes, and a truly mesmerising fee offer. I refused on the spot, despite Kay whispering “What about the roof?” On consideration she did quickly agree that we didn’t really need to reduce Beethoven to the status of an Olympic sport.