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| A member of the bosozoku (I do not own the rights to this image) |
Riders For Life
Independent film maker Jamie Morris on filming the much-feared biker gangs of Japan
Bou 暴- Violent
Sou 走- Speed
Zoku 族- Tribes
Since the early 50s, biker gangs known as bosozoku have terrorised the streets of Japan. Dressing in matching outfits styled after the kamikaze pilots of World War 2, these outlawed speed tribes of Tokyo cruise the midnight streets seeking out a thrill. Armed with baseball bats and metal pipes, the gang members form packs to race down the highways and taunt police officers who are powerless to stop them.
When the number of gang members took a dramatic rise in the 60s, the Japanese media launched a campaign which demonised these young and frustrated men. The gang members, who are always under Japan’s legal driving limit of 20, were looking for an escape from Japanese society’s traditions - rules and regulations they saw as stiff. Japan’s post WWII reconstruction had some teething problems, with violent student protests and a massive increase in juvenile delinquency – the biker gangs were just another by-product of a struggling nation.
The newspapers called them bosozoku, which translates as violent speed tribes. Hoping the intense media coverage would deter the bikers, who would gather in the hundreds to slowly cruise along the freeways, the attention instead fuelled their egos, and solidified their view of themselves as urban warriors or Samurai.
On paper it sounds terrifying - almost enough to put off any keen tourist looking to experience Japan’s cultural offerings. But in reality today’s picture shows a somewhat different scene. At one time being a member of the bosozoku meant dedicating yourself to a life of anarchy, but in stark contrast to that, today being a member of the bosozoku is more about fashion, joy riding and showing off with a group of your mates.
A simple Google search shows that the members of the gangs are in decline. Revised laws in 2004 gave more power to the police, which led to a rise in the number of arrests and fines. As expected the prosecutions put people off from joining in, and numbers took a huge dive. In 2011 the Japanese National Police announced that the number of members had fallen to 9,064 – this was a far cry from the figures in 1982, when the numbers of bosozoku peaked at 42,510.
To those who see the tribes as a nuisance this decline is long overdue, but a small minority mourn the loss of another important part of Japanese sub-culture.
Sayonara Speed Tribes
Jamie Morris is a filmmaker who moved to Japan from LA. He was looking to find a subject that would make for a fascinating documentary. Just like the bosozoku, Jamie too rebelled in his youth. Attending illegal raves near his home town, Jamie would bring along his camera to capture an unseen part of American youth culture. It’s no surprise then, that Jamie quickly became fascinated by the bosozoku. He discovered that this seemingly strange ‘Asian’ sub culture isn’t too far removed from any small group in Western society.
‘In japan where quite often people want to look the same or be the same, you have these guys who have these bikes that are all unique. And that visual element of this Japanese guy rolling down the street, kind of tough, it was interesting to me,’ said Jamie. ‘It was in a way that was totally unique and I’d never seen it before.’
‘I first moved to Japan in about 2002, it was right after
September 11 happened. I started out as an English teacher in the Nagoya area
for about two years, it’s not a small city, but it’s smaller than some, and
that’s where I met the bosozoku,’ he said.
‘I was chasing them around, with my little Sony cam in Nagoya. I would drive around at night and I could hear them, using the sound I figured out which routes they would take.’
One night, when the sound of revving engines stopped and Tokyo became peaceful and still, Jamie saw a stack of motorbikes parked up outside a popular Japanese fast food chain. Each bike was uniquely customised, as is the bosozoku tradition, with bright colours, slogans and chopped off mufflers.
‘I thought “fuck it, I’ve been chasing these guys around, and this is my best chance”.’ He waited until they came out of the restaurant to approach them. ‘I said, in bad Japanese: “I’m making a documentary about bosozoku can I film you?”’ After looking at Jamie’s kitted out camera, the riders agreed and Jamie was in. ‘I was on the damn bike, he drove me around on the bike!’ an excited Jamie reminisced. ‘Anything could’ve happened, but I always wanted to film them, and this guy gave me the opportunity. Two minutes later the four of them were running red lights, and I was filming us riding through the streets. I could barely speak Japanese at the time, so I couldn’t do much more than film them.’
Although Jamie expected to have trouble filming the bikers, he found them to be surprisingly cooperative. Later research led him to discover the term ‘medatsu’. ‘The bikers live by it, it means showing off, standing out and making yourself feel good. I guess my filming made them feel that way.’
Still on a high after getting this first bit of footage, Jamie returned to LA to seek out funding for the rest of his film. ‘I had a trailer, but I wasn’t good at attracting attention. People didn’t get it, I didn’t have a proper main character yet,’ he explained.
During his time in LA, he hooked up with Masayuki Yoshinaga, a well-respected photographer within the bosozoku community – a man the bosozoku call Sensei, a term reserved for doctors and teachers. ‘bosozoku don’t respect anyone out of the bosozoku, but they really respected this guy,’ said Jamie. So I knew this was the guy who could introduce me to the really interesting people.’
Yoshinaga told Jamie that if he wanted to be involved he had to move to Tokyo, so Jamie did the only thing he knows how to do, and took the plunge – moving to Tokyo to finish the film.
Within one month Jamie was getting more footage than he previously thought possible. And it was in between speeding through red lights, hanging off the back of motorcycles and ‘jumping in with both feet’ that Jamie stumbled upon his ‘main character’.
Hazuki was in the school yard when he caught his first glimpse of the bosozoku, but just like everyone else, he heard them first. Revving their engines to near-breaking point, the speed tribes make a din that would cause even the most chronic tinnitus sufferer to wince. Standing to attention in the school yard, being lectured by the ‘uptight and full of themselves’ teachers, Hazuki watched and smiled in awe as his peers and his teachers quaked with fear at the sound. He was besotted by the bosozoku – he knew at that moment what he wanted to do with his life.
‘Hazuki finished junior high and then he never went to high school, he just wasn’t in to school - he liked bikes, and he was a tough kid,’ said Jamie. ‘He ended up being a bosozoku leader and going through all that instead. But you usually quit when you’re 20. You have to because the cops will get you, and it’s more dangerous. It’s a kid’s thing really; it’s not supposed to be like the Hells Angels or the Mafia where you stay in for life.’
Hazuki was the leader of the infamous Narushino Specter gang in the 1990s. His tribe ruled over most of southern Tokyo. The bikers terrorised the streets, swerving through traffic, creating chaos at the midnight hour. ‘Once you go bosozoku, you’ve turned your back on Japanese society and you’ve given up on any kind of a ‘normal’ life,’ said Hazuki, in the early 90s documentary called Teens Road - the same documentary that awarded him a small amount of fame, and a phenomenal amount of self-pride.
At 20 years old it’s customary for the bosozoku to grow up and move on from their life of delinquency.
But for some it’s not that easy and instead they move in to the ranks of the infamous Yakuza. Hazuki was one such example, getting involved with a life of violence by performing loan shark duties for the feared mobsters. For a while Hazuki used his fighting skills to make some money and would take part in kick-boxing matches, but the fights were hardly lucrative for the ex-bosozuko member. Hazuki had nothing else, no qualifications, no skills he could apply to the workplace, and no other choice.
‘I was chasing them around, with my little Sony cam in Nagoya. I would drive around at night and I could hear them, using the sound I figured out which routes they would take.’
One night, when the sound of revving engines stopped and Tokyo became peaceful and still, Jamie saw a stack of motorbikes parked up outside a popular Japanese fast food chain. Each bike was uniquely customised, as is the bosozoku tradition, with bright colours, slogans and chopped off mufflers.
‘I thought “fuck it, I’ve been chasing these guys around, and this is my best chance”.’ He waited until they came out of the restaurant to approach them. ‘I said, in bad Japanese: “I’m making a documentary about bosozoku can I film you?”’ After looking at Jamie’s kitted out camera, the riders agreed and Jamie was in. ‘I was on the damn bike, he drove me around on the bike!’ an excited Jamie reminisced. ‘Anything could’ve happened, but I always wanted to film them, and this guy gave me the opportunity. Two minutes later the four of them were running red lights, and I was filming us riding through the streets. I could barely speak Japanese at the time, so I couldn’t do much more than film them.’
Although Jamie expected to have trouble filming the bikers, he found them to be surprisingly cooperative. Later research led him to discover the term ‘medatsu’. ‘The bikers live by it, it means showing off, standing out and making yourself feel good. I guess my filming made them feel that way.’
Still on a high after getting this first bit of footage, Jamie returned to LA to seek out funding for the rest of his film. ‘I had a trailer, but I wasn’t good at attracting attention. People didn’t get it, I didn’t have a proper main character yet,’ he explained.
During his time in LA, he hooked up with Masayuki Yoshinaga, a well-respected photographer within the bosozoku community – a man the bosozoku call Sensei, a term reserved for doctors and teachers. ‘bosozoku don’t respect anyone out of the bosozoku, but they really respected this guy,’ said Jamie. So I knew this was the guy who could introduce me to the really interesting people.’
Yoshinaga told Jamie that if he wanted to be involved he had to move to Tokyo, so Jamie did the only thing he knows how to do, and took the plunge – moving to Tokyo to finish the film.
Within one month Jamie was getting more footage than he previously thought possible. And it was in between speeding through red lights, hanging off the back of motorcycles and ‘jumping in with both feet’ that Jamie stumbled upon his ‘main character’.
Hazuki was in the school yard when he caught his first glimpse of the bosozoku, but just like everyone else, he heard them first. Revving their engines to near-breaking point, the speed tribes make a din that would cause even the most chronic tinnitus sufferer to wince. Standing to attention in the school yard, being lectured by the ‘uptight and full of themselves’ teachers, Hazuki watched and smiled in awe as his peers and his teachers quaked with fear at the sound. He was besotted by the bosozoku – he knew at that moment what he wanted to do with his life.
‘Hazuki finished junior high and then he never went to high school, he just wasn’t in to school - he liked bikes, and he was a tough kid,’ said Jamie. ‘He ended up being a bosozoku leader and going through all that instead. But you usually quit when you’re 20. You have to because the cops will get you, and it’s more dangerous. It’s a kid’s thing really; it’s not supposed to be like the Hells Angels or the Mafia where you stay in for life.’
Hazuki was the leader of the infamous Narushino Specter gang in the 1990s. His tribe ruled over most of southern Tokyo. The bikers terrorised the streets, swerving through traffic, creating chaos at the midnight hour. ‘Once you go bosozoku, you’ve turned your back on Japanese society and you’ve given up on any kind of a ‘normal’ life,’ said Hazuki, in the early 90s documentary called Teens Road - the same documentary that awarded him a small amount of fame, and a phenomenal amount of self-pride.
At 20 years old it’s customary for the bosozoku to grow up and move on from their life of delinquency.
But for some it’s not that easy and instead they move in to the ranks of the infamous Yakuza. Hazuki was one such example, getting involved with a life of violence by performing loan shark duties for the feared mobsters. For a while Hazuki used his fighting skills to make some money and would take part in kick-boxing matches, but the fights were hardly lucrative for the ex-bosozuko member. Hazuki had nothing else, no qualifications, no skills he could apply to the workplace, and no other choice.
The bosozoku would write poetic slogans on their outfits and
repeat back militaristic chants. With their turf taking up most of southern
Tokyo in the 90s, Hazuki and his crew would shout their slogan: ‘Riders for
life’. But today the Specters’ stomping ground only spreads a few miles around
his old home town. Just like the gang he fell in love with as a child, Hazuki’s
glory days are long behind him.
Sayonara Speed Tribes
is the name of Jamie’s documentary, and you can watch it at
figure8productions.com
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