The Last of the Japanese Rock Heroes

The year 2010 in the Pixi-Webster Encyclopedia has a number of entries:

• The Dark Ages.
• The world record for a comically compulsive degree of bad luck.
• The year of the Tiger whot pissed on my dying fire
• The year of the shKit
• The year of the Baby
• And The last of the J-rock heroes (a.k.a Miyavi)

Some context in the way of a justification for nonsensical banter:

Pixi's evil wisdom teeth, who did not know the meaning of 'no room', continued to shove their harrowing way into Pixi's mouth like those persistent buggers that weasel their way into a packed Victoria Line train at rush hour, with a painful exhalation of air from the depths of all the other passengers' lungs. Suffice it to say, they (the wisdom teeth, not the metaphorical passengers) did not allow for the materialisation of much sleep at 5am on Monday morning, so the futon-lying Pixi armed herself with her iPod touch, and commenced in writing an elaboration for the final two enteries in the Pixi-Webster encyclopedia, which she decided, were connected in a sense.

This is how (said nonsensical banter):

Not long after going down in Pixi-history as the year of the Baby, 2010 added one more casualty to the list of people, nay friends, who were not only married (As if that weren't un-cool enough) but also procreating the human species. Pixi was still in the midst of wonderring what the odds were that so many of her friends could simultaneously become WITH CHILD in the same year, when suddenly, it transpired. It was this: To add insult to indignity, One of Pixi's greatest heroes also went and had ofspring. Said hero was Miyavi, With whom Pixi had enjoyed a para-social relationship for well over four years.

Rude Interaption from the likes of Nerdy, Die-hard fan: "Miyavi had a child last year. That's old news!"
Retaliation from Pixi: "I only found out this year, which makes my finding out new news to the world whot cares. So go make a collage out of your news-paper clippings."

Where were we? Ah yes! Miyavi stood out from all other J-rockers of his generation for a number of reasons (which follow):

1. He was a genius on the guitar...of the naturally born to rock-pants variety.
2. Had a raspy shKit voice, which he was confident enough to use to his advantage and use well (ie. he could sing. and do it with originality)
3. He differred from other pretty boys in that he wasn't a pouting poser. In fact, he did everything to look positively un-attractive which increased his appeal.
4. He had striking features (not the usual wahsed out prety-boy stock variety) which he probably owed to his Zainichi Korean descent
5. He had character...the kind evident even across language barriers (refer to Video below)
6. And lastly, the man had style. Nay, he was a walking work of art with the tattoos and piercings that he carried well (an not like some silly emo, teenage dirt-bag)

All this, however, was in the golden age of Miyavizm (originally coined by Miyavi himself.) And though the man would most definately leave behind a legacy, unfortunately, nothing lasts. The gradual decline of Pixi's love for Miyavi began when he first displayed various signs of un-coolness. These eventually culminated into the revelation of his be-hitching to a certain chick named Melody. (Need I make any unecessary understatements about stupid names?)

Pixi concluded that married life had not only driven Miyavi to lay off the drugs (or whatever else made him so adorabbly high), it had forced him to grow up! Why else would the absurdly random freak of much musical tallent, replace his signiature 'Miyavi dessssu' with, 'Yo what's up, this is Miyavi', in an all too sober, badly accented English. (WTF!? -Pixi had tought, when she was first exposed to this sell-out. Glancing about her to make sure no-one else had witnessed it, she'd closed the Youtube tab with goose-bumpy embarrasment.)

Thereafter Miyavi did not release any great new albums, and Pixi slowly stopped googling him. ...until this past Sunday, which was one of those vexing intollerablities that left her fantasising about whether slit wrists could emit enough blood to seep out from under the bathroom door, subsiquently serving as a: 'hello. Somebody? Sorry to interrupt, but can we have some attention here please before the rats come?' This continued into the late hours of the night. But before insomnia got the better of Pixi, a bit of pre-bed-tmie googling had revealed this:

Needless to say, we felt a combination of: Ghasp! - Awwww - errrr - weeeeird- ....
This was followed by the thought that the world really was leaving Pixi behind, to cherish the memory of it's awe-fullness in its youth. ...which consequently brought on the insomnia perhaps.

And that is how the last of Pixi's Japanese-rock heroes was lost to obscurity. In celebration of the great things he gave us however, here's to you, Miyavi. (But don't think I've forgiven you for growing up on me!)