Back in April we wrote a post highlighting a few juicy stories of foreign musicians touring Japan and the amazing sexual antics they got up to with Japanese groupies.
We stumbled over another episode of nefarious goings on in the land of the rising sun, this time courtesy of Rick Springfield.
We talk about marrriage for the first time in a long while, but we still don’t settle on a date. I leave for a three-week tour of Japan amid a rash of promises to commit and pledges to change. Japan has always had is own set of rules as far as we touring bands are concerned. It’s really difficult to know if you’ve offended a girl over there by asking her to suck your dick or if, although this is a lot of cultural shyness in Japan, she would really love to. The authorities are very, very anti-drug, and yet there are graphic porno magazines full of young girls covering themselves in their own shit — I’m not making this up — for sale as the local grocery market where moms shop with their kids.
We’ve sold out three nights at Tokyo’s Budokan Hall, and although the audience is screaming and yelling and is as wild as any in the world, the promoter tells me that Japanese law forbids me from jumping off the front of the stage and joining the crowd during the show because it’s considered sacrilegious for the soles of my shoes to touch the same floor that thousands of kids are jumping up and down on at that very moment. Then they take us to a bath house so we can screw our brains out. Amid this strange dichotomy, I’m not sure if my promises to Barbara are actually legal in this part of the world. C’mon, I’m joking. Well, sort of. It’s a hard drug to quit cold turkey, this sex thing. The shows are a blast. And there are girls. I satisfy my old obsession for a while by hearing about and oaccasionally watching crew and band members have their fun in the hotel rooms around this country… but temptation is pulling at me, as is a more sinister yet familiar voice. “Go on, Rickyboy. Barbara’s ten thousand miles away. And these girls won’t always be around, ya know. It’s all gonna come to an end someday. You don’t have more than a year left at best, I’d say.
I weaken and, to my ultimate sorrow, I join in.
Do we feel sorry for Rickyboy? Not a bit. (By the way, he and Barbara stayed together and got married.)
If that’s not enough to turn on your envy button, think of this tale of River Cuomo of Weezer.
There was this one time in Japan that was really emotional for me because this is when I was first starting to figure all this stuff out about being really aggressive. I’d been in Japan for a week and every night there were ten or fifteen girls in my room and nothing happened because I wasn’t confident enough to say, “Let’s have sex or get out of the room.” So finally, at the end of my stay there, I said, “Whoever wants to stay in the room has to take their clothes off and get on the bed.” And most of them left but four of them stayed. It was a very difficult step for me to take but I had to take it. It was the truth about what I wanted.
Cuomo eventually married a Japanese woman called Kyoto Ito, a fan whom he first met in 1997. He took a two-year vow of sexual abstinence before marrying her in 2006.
