On a quiet street in Brighton, Massachusetts, there's a big brown-shingled house, sometimes known as Leicester Flat, that has long been home to some of the Northeast's adventurous acoustic musicians: Matt Glaser, Paul Silvius, Howie Tarnower, Cyd Smith, landlord Eric Levenson, even me. Perhaps the most adventurous and versatile of these semi-illustrious tenants is Yoshihiro Arita, whose first album you have in hand.

Hiro was born in Osaka, Japan in 1957, and had the good fortune to grow up at a time when there was a great burst of bluegrass energy in Japan. A hunger for authenticity led Hiro on a long trip to the United States in 1979, where he had a his first chance to get together with younger players on the cutting edge of bluegrass and venerated older musicians like Don Reno, Tommy Jarrell, and Snuffy Jenkins. A deepening passion for jazz drew Hiro back to the States in 1984 to study at the Berklee College of Music and Boston remained Hiro's base for nearly seven years before he returned to Japan in 1991.

A list of credits doesn't really convey the feeling and elegant depth of Hiro's music, but it might suggest the company he keeps and the incredible diversity music, but it might suggest the company he keeps and the incredible diversity of his accomplishment. Hiro won the National Banjo Championship at Winfield, Kansas in 1985, and two years later took first prize at Galax, Virginia. He has toured with his own acoustic group, Off Center, the Fiction Brothers, Bill Grant & Delia Bell, Hiro played "Porgy and Bess" with the Tokyo Philharmonic Orchestra and even performed on the sound track of "Dick Tracy" with Jerry Lee Lewis.

As for the music here, Whale Dance begins with a witty, swinging version of "Fisher's Hornpipe", and just goes on Wonderfully from there. Hiro offers up hard core bluegrass, original banjo pieces, dark mountain tunes, smoky ballads and driving jazz on the guitar with equal fluency. The surrounding players, every bit his equal, are always urging the music on. But you can hear all this for yourself, so maybe we should just stop and listen.

Alan Senauke
Berkeley, California February 1992